#(1) I'm supposed to be working on a grant right now

[markscherz]

your blog is amazing, which is why you're getting attacked with paws

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Nsfw/smut

Part 1 here!!

You don't know how to work with Miguel. You can't meet his gaze, can't talk to him. How are you supposed to just keep going on with your life when you heard everything? When you took a peek and saw what he was doing while calling your name?

He was jerking off to you! How are you supposed to just keep going as if nothing were wrong?!

You can't stop thinking about it, the way he'd groaned, the thick breathing, the look on his gorgeous, gorgeous face...

You shake yourself out of it. You've got work to do. The spiderverse won't protect itself...

...Maybe just for a minute?

As the memories of Miguel rush through your mind, you can feel your body grow hot. You can't stop thinking about how he'd bitten his lower lip, or how big he is. Granted, Miguel is huge in every aspect, you were just curious about that last one. And now you know.

An uncomfortable little bubble of arousal grows between your thighs, your pussy pulsating with desire.

You glance around your small corner office. No security cameras, no one else around, door closed...

Miguel did it. Why can't you?

You slide your hands down your body, between your legs, tracing your middle finger against your clothed cunt. You add pressure on your clit, shuddering at the slight relief and pleasure that flows at the touch.

You spread your legs some, adding more strength, more need to each movement. Soon, you're sweating, panting, images of Miguel invading your brain.

You can hear his breathing, see his eyes shut tight, his fist around his enormous cock...

You touch yourself until you're close. So close. Your orgasm is right there, just a few seconds away—

A knock sounds on the door before it unexpectedly swings open.

You manage to pull your hand away at the last second. And there stands the man himself.

“Miguel!” you just about squeak, trying to keep your breathing regular.

He eyes you suspiciously. “You okay?” he asks. When you don't answer immediately, he glances around your office, searching for something.

You look flustered, nervous. You're sweating and he could hear you panting across the goddamn hall.

And then he smells it. The scent of your sweet, thick arousal.

He turns back to you, not a doubt in his mind about what you were doing. His eyes sharpen, grow dark. The tips of his fangs peek between his lips.

You find yourself pressing your thighs together involuntarily.

“What's going on?” he demands, voice thick and rough.

You swallow thickly. “N-nothing. Nothing's going on.”

His eyes grow impossibly darker. “No me mientas.” Don't lie to me.

“I'm not!” you insist.

He doesn't buy it. After a long, tense pause, he pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “Don't make this harder on yourself. I know what you were doing.” The firmness and unwavering belief in his voice lets you know he really does know.

“Well I-I know what you were doing,” you blurt. Your eyes widen and your cheeks blush when you realize what you've said.

He frowns, putting his hands on his hips. “What are you talking about?”

There's no taking it back now. “I saw you,” you say. “Yesterday afternoon. In your office. I saw you and I heard you.”

By the expression on his face, you know he's aware of what, exactly, you're talking about.

“Mierda,” he curses. You just kind of sit there, eyes on his. “Mierda.”

For some reason, you can't shut yourself up. “I...I heard you say my name,” you admit, blushing as if you had any reason to be embarrassed. Well, maybe you shouldn't have stayed and watched but...still, it's not your fault he's jerking off to you.

“La puta madre,” he hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose again. “Fuck. I...I'm sorry—”

“It's okay—”

“I didn't mean—I didn't know you were listening, obviously—”

“Miguel, don't worry about it—”

“I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable—”

You keep fucking talking. “If it makes you feel any better, I was thinking about you while I did it too.”

That shuts him up. He stares at you, blinking. “What?”

You feel the need to explain. You keep fucking it up. “I-I was thinking about you while I touched myself,” you tell him. “I...don't know if that makes you feel any better, but I thought you should know.”

He takes a few steps until he's standing in front of you. “Tienes idea de lo que te va a pasar?” Do you have any idea what's going to happen to you right now?

You shake your head, terror spreading through your veins. Are you...fired? Is he going to send you back to your universe? Is he going to ban you from the spider society?

“Bend over the desk,” he instructs, his voice low and quiet, sending a shudder up your spine.

That takes you by surprise. “W-what?” you stutter.

He picks you up and roughly bends you over the desk, pushing your chest against the wood and kicking your feet apart. “I only say things once. I don't like repeating myself. You won't get warnings with me.” His hand grips your hip roughly, squeezing it hard. “Have I made myself clear?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you whine.

He grins; you can hear his smirk. “Atta girl.”

-----

@yagirlheree @sukioyakio @obi-mom-kenobi @celestia80s @manlikemilesmyguy @zaunsin @naniiiii12 @everlastlady @avatar-lover @siidmm @dhollandhs @spikedhe4rt @missing2socks @itzraven101 @miguelspookiebear @mochikomochisoft @sunset-euphoria @kishibeswh0re @m4dyy @icreatedthisat317am @keiva1000 @jakescumdump @ravisinghs-wife @tengens4th--wife @oceancerulean @pookiesmookie69 @juwandiko @aisyakirmann @ninebluehearts @vampireluvvr @saturnstringz @4imhry @iheartlinds

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Blog masterlist

[shanastoryteller]

happy valentine’s day! could i get something pjo or hades?

a continuation of 1

Sally doesn't understand. "But where's my son?"

His face crumples before smoothing back out.

"Not that you're not my son!" she says hurriedly. Gods, he's going to grow up to look so much like his father. He's going to grow up powerful, which is something Poseidon had warned her about and she thought she'd taken it seriously, but now her almost adult son is in front of her and there's a presence to him that she'd clocked as his father's just as much as his hair and the breadth of his shoulders. "But. My son. When you go back to the future, he'll come back, right?"

"Mom," he starts, then presses his lips together. "I don't know."

She slowly lowers herself onto Percy's bed. Onto her Percy's bed. "Where is he now?"

"If he's still here, he's probably in the underworld," he says.

If. If. Her eyes burn. She'd just been wishing that Percy wasn't seven anymore, but she hadn't meant this.

"I have to go," he says, clearly trying to speak gently to her. "I'll try and find out, okay? I'll send you an Iris message."

"But," she starts, looking up at him. What's she supposed to do? Her son's gone. Her son's right in front of her, but he's leaving too.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to her forehead like he's the parent. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm really sorry."

~

Percy thinks he might have killed himself.

He tries not to think about it as he dive into the Atlantic, the water surging over and around him as it propel him exactly where he wants to go.

This is a mission that he's not going to survive. He'd known that from the beginning. Persephone had warned him that his life would be forfeit before he'd done it.

He should have listened. He should have taken a single second to think it through before he'd accepted, even if he would have done it anyway, even if it felt like the only option left.

When he'd sat across from Persephone, her clothes black with mourning and a crown she didn't want on her head, he'd already been dead. So it couldn't be his life that was the cost. It had already been paid.

Now his mom is going to have to mourn him twice over. Maybe even three times over, when he dies here too. He's such a terrible kid. She deserves better. Estelle wouldn't do this to her.

Why the hell had she had a kid with a god? They all die young.

He sneaks through the patrol of Atlantis with ease. He knows the schedules and the patterns and nothing is really meant to keep him out anyway.

The armory, the most guarded part of the kingdom, opens at his first touch.

He's a loyal son of Poseidon. Nothing here is forbidden to him.

Granted, that's because they don't know to ward against him specifically, because he's supposed to be ignorant and seven and demigod children don't typically just go strolling into their parents domain.

Riptide is currently with Charon and ironically he'd have a much harder time stealing from him than his father. He walks the length of the armory, eyeing the tridents but moving on. If he wants to keep his parentage a secret, then that's definitely not the way to go.

He goes through about a dozen swords before finding one that feels loose and easy in his hands. It's a bit flashier than Riptide, emeralds along the hilt and interlocking silver patter worked in alongside the bronze.

Paper doesn't do so well underwater, so he scrapes in an IOU into the place the sword had been. Someone's going to notice it missing pretty quickly either way. His dad if he's lucky, Triton if he isn't, but he doesn't have the time to worry about it.

There are three kids out there who are going to need some help getting to Camp Half-Blood in one piece.

[morinuu]

LISTWN TO ME I JUST READ YOUR TAMAKI ANGST AND YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE SO FICKING GOOD??

A she falls but he falls harder

Reader finally gets over it and stops coming, moving on and focusing on herself, and he notices and starts realizing how he took her for granted

And then its him that's loosing his mind and shit like that. Dude. Dude. I'm loosing my MIND you write so well

first of all ty for the compliment >< so glad u liked it im blushing and giggling!! secondly im not sure abt the reader completely abandoning tamaki's side (i love being delulu), but i do have smth else in mind that's kinda similiar n i hope its satisfactory :3 i changed only a minor part from the og :P i wanna make this a small series..... maybe like 3-4 parts.. anw this is pt 1

☀︎｜tamaki x female reader. almost 4k words. continuation of this. ure sick, yamada hinata & aoko r just some ppl i made up for the plot, tamaki's pretty stupid n emotionally unintelligent, lots of feelings and background information, y'all r childhood friends, there's like one 4th wall break but i thought it was kinda funny so i kept it

you weren't a fan of february.

allergy season was your absolute worst, the wheezing and coughing sucking the life out of you as you struggled to change out of your clothes to get the day started. you didn't sleep much, interrupted constantly by your sore throat aching and squeezing.

sure, it's just hay fever to everyone else, but for a young woman who carried around an inhaler, it's hell. well, almost hell.

what was truly hellish wasn't the fatigue or the sneezing, but your mum dragging you back in the house and forbidding you from going to school until you're well enough to study again. how were you supposed to keep up with chemistry class if you skip?

not that your parents cared for your grades; they knew you could just enter whatever field you wanted with the connections your family held, but it felt nice to be awarded for working hard.

after your personal maid let out a small "pardon me, miss" and carried you back to bed, you realised that the feeling your soft quilt hugging your cold limbs would never be beaten by the jacket you desperately clung on to warm yourself in p.e - which just so happened to be your first period that day and you were dreading it.

"i'll be making you some tea, miss. would you like to breakfast now?" your maid's quiet voice addressed you, hoping you'd just sleep the illness off as you usually did so she could rest too.

to be fair, you weren't a very easy master to please, so could you blame her?

"i'll breakfast la-" a cough and some wheezing "-i'll breakfast later, bring some english breakfast with a slice of lemon." you said nothing else, instead focusing on calming your throat that seemed to intensify in soreness. "a pastille too."

"understood my lady, i'll be right back." she bowed and excused herself from your room, ignoring your groans of annoyance as you buried your face into the pillow.

"damn it." you muttered and extended your hand to grab your phone from your bedside table. unlocking it with the passcode (because you weren't in the mood to lift your head and let your phone scan your face) you squinted as the light mode of a social media app hit your eyes harshly, forcing you to use muscle memory to lower the brightness to its minimum.

you scrolled through, liking your friends' private posts and decided to message one of them.

yn.spam: gm dude, i cant come to school today cus im sick. can u do me a favour n tell aoko to give me her notes? she never looks at her messages.

with your phone back on the table to wait for a response, you lied back comfortably and closed your eyes, because as much as you wanted to watch something on netflix or play a video game, you didn't want to make things worse for yourself.

you grew impatient for the cup of tea your maid was brewing, rotating between wheezing, checking your phone and staring at the ceiling. it seemed like the seconds weren't passing by at all.

soon enough, your maid comes back with some fancy tray carrying a kettle, your favourite mug (the one your daddy drank from when you were a little girl before your parents divorced), a tiny plate with some lemon slices and a small box of pastilles as throat medicine.

you didn't thank the woman when she helped you sit up, nor when she stayed by your side to make sure you didn't choke between coughs and burnt yourself with the hot liquid. just as you took your first sip, your phone lit up to show your friend's response.

thatguyhinata: Ayooo gppd morning. Sry to hear tht. Sure if I see her I'll telm her.

the irises in your eyes rolled upwards at the boy's typos that irked you every time, completely ignoring how he didn't wish for your recovery.

yn.spam: thanks yamada

you never used any of your circle's first names, which your mum always found weird.

'you sure these are your friends, darling?' she would ask often, and your response would always be the same:

'yeah mum. leave me be.'

only tamaki had ever felt close enough to be called by his first name.

after swallowing your medicine, you dismissed the older woman standing over you and pulled your quilt over your quivering form again.

"gods, please let this be over soon."

...

well.

...turns out, you gotta be much more specific with what you ask of gods, because they might not have the same understanding of the word 'soon'.

here you are, three days later, with your allergy having been combined with a virus that'd been going around, intensifying your asthma symptoms and raising a high fever, making your mother and doctor ban you from walking into ouran.

halfway throughout the day, you realise what had been completely slipping your mind while your lungs were occupied inhaling abnormally.

"i have an appointment today!" you exclaimed with wide eyes, raising from the bed like lazarus from his grave.

"...?" the new maid next to you didn't say anything, she was clearly concerned. after some seconds of you overthinking something, she spoke up. "you have no other doctor's appointment today, my lady. he just left 10 minutes ago."

you shook your head quickly, ignoring the dizziness brought by your fever "bring me my phone," the girl was puzzled "now!"

bowing a quick apology, she rushed to your desk and handed you your phone with both hands, not daring to look up. you disliked new maids; they were inexperienced and annoying, but scolding her would have to wait.

"damn it, damn it, damn it!" you murmured under your breath and tapped furiously on your phone, trying to find where the hell you'd written kyouya's business e-mail address.

you had it saved as every other client of the host club had, but you had never actually used it, not once.

you never missed an appointment, and always booked the next one tete-a-tete with the black-haired manager. if you became a no-show without prior notice, wouldn't that look bad? would it annoy kyouya and he wouldn't accept you in the club again?

well no, but you had the habit of overthinki-

'would it annoy tamaki?'

you groaned and murmured to yourself - had you deleted it? maybe it was in your notes app and you erased it? was it on your old phone from a month ago?

"find an e-mail for me." you ordered the maid who looked up at you perplexed, but carried out the order nonetheless.

the girl was embarrassed when she found out her master was asking for a host's email, wanting the earth to swallow her when she dialed the ouran academy's number. 'the stuff i do for money..' she thought and prayed her family never found out.

it wasn't a long process to retrieve the address, but what was, was the rant hitting the maid's ears when your overthinking about what to write left your mouth at incredible speeds.

"should i say i'm sick? but he already knows that- he's in my class! maybe tell him to give my time to another girl? no wait, he would do that anyway... or after i apologise, i'll say that, like, something came up- but that's not believable enough... ugh!" you buried your face in your pillow and, unbeknownst to you, your new maid's eye was twitching in annoyance.

she understood now why your personal maid took the week off just when you got sick - not that she understood how and why your mum allowed it though.

(it's because you can be insufferable and she gets it.)

"my lady, may i help?" the girl let out, clearing her throat when you lifted your head from the pillow. "i can write the e-mail myself, please focus on resting."

after some convincing, you gave in.

and so 10 minutes later, back at ouran, kyouya's phone let out a ting! with your full name on the notification. he'd already guessed you wouldn't show up to your appointment considering you hadn't come to school in three days, and already had someone to fill your place but left it for the last moment in case you did show up.

why? well you were ln yn, and it was painfully obvious you were smitten with his best friend, though he could say it was a bit different from the rest of the clientele.

probably due to the fact that you'd known tamaki for much longer than kyouya had. and yet tamaki didn't seem to have the same fascination with you.

he remembers when he first met you, when he'd heard that you were spoiled rotten and weren't even planning to enroll in ouran until tamaki did. you simply transferred to be with the boy.

literally everyone knew of ln yn's almost freakish obsession with suoh tamaki, except for the victim himself.

so imagine his surprise at the strictly professional e-mail he'd received from you, where not a single mention of your host was included. weird.

after glancing at the french boy in the seat next to him eating his bowl of some-sort-of-commoner-convenience-store lunch, kyouya quickly typed a response and informed the next girl in line that a spot was open 'for tamaki's hosting services at 15:35'.

"one of your appointments cancelled due to a personal issue. we'll have someone else fill it." kyouya told tamaki, just as stated in the e-mail, even though it was pretty clear you were sick, and he couldn't figure out why you'd lie.

"hm? oh, okay!" the brunet smiled and went back to devouring his meal, not thinking much of kyouya's words.

kyouya pondered if he should tell him the client was his loyal friend yn, who would never skip out on seeing tamaki, but he stopped himself, curious as to how it would all play out.

eh, if the twins could have fun, so could he.

"oh! haruhii! daddy's here!"

the hours passed so slow you were almost convinced time was frozen when you weren't glancing at the clock on your laptop.

the drama you'd been watching started to lose its interest after presenting the third plot twist in a row, annoying you with all the plot holes it left gaping.

sipping on your green tea (you'd been drinking tamaki's recommendation, pomegranate, only to throw all of it in the trash when you heard he gave the same advice to haruhi), you paused the show and sighed in absolute, tyrannical boredom.

by now you'd normally have finished your classes and walked to music room #3, your favourite among them all.

you'd be welcomed by a host and walked to a sofa to wait for your appointment, ignoring any other girl in the waiting area trying to pick a conversation with the middle child of the ln family.

and soon enough you'd be approached by your one and only taking your hand in his and kissing it to greet you, with his blue eyes staring up at you innocently like a man in love; a look he gave to any woman nowadays, it was second nature to him.

you got lost in them so often, he sometimes dared to ask you if you didn't enjoy his company and that's why you spaced out so much.

preposterous.

you? disliking tamaki? how could he think that after all these years you spent playing together, with you transferring to his school for his sake, swallowing your pride and becoming the client of a host for him?

truly an absurd notion.

currently, however, you weren't in the host club. you were just a girl with a bunch of germs crawling everywhere around her room, unable to go out and see the man of her dreams kiss her cheek and tell her to 'get well soon'.

speaking of, your mum grew increasingly concerned when she noticed the lack of communication between you and tamaki. you were always attached to his hip like some sort of koala, and the fact that you hadn't reached out to him to inform him of your illness personally so he could visit you made her worry.

but it was only natural that you'd suspect you were being an annoyance to tamaki once you began to notice his eyes shift from you to the newest host a couple of months prior. he'd been a petit brunet boy. a first year who was friendly and of lowly origin. you didn't think much of it.

at least not until the day hikaru asked if you could fetch something he forgot in the back room, completely ignorant to the fact that haruhi had come to the club early that day to ask for another uniform because she'd been accidentally thrown water at by two classmates of hers being stupid.

so when you opened the curtain and saw a small-sized girl with only her panties on desperately trying to hide herself from you, it didn't take more than a couple of seconds to put two and two together.

tamaki wasn't fascinated by the commoner errand 'boy' turnt host.

he wanted her.

you closed the curtain, giving the girl her privacy back and muttering an curt apology, "sorry." before deciding that hikaru would have to get his things himself.

neither haruhi nor you spoke about it again, and she never snitched to the host club about your discovery of her sex.

you liked to pretend it never happened, and that it never changed anything. but just like with tamaki, pretending doesn't go anywhere. the hints were there. his furiously blushed face when he stared at her, his protection of her when the twins teased her, his demands for kyouya to do things for haruhi because she'd like it, not even because she'd asked - well, the stage of denial didn't last long.

shortly after came anger. pure, unexplainable rage and envy. the fourth of the deadly sins was soon rushing through your veins like a drug you couldn't get clean from. 'why her?' you would ask in your rampages.

you couldn't figure it out, and you couldn't ask anyone either, because as infuriated as you were, hurting haruhi by revealing her identity wasn't on your to-do list.

not because you were a good person, god no.

rather, if tamaki knew you hurt his precious daughter - you barfed - like that, who knows if you'd see him again?

and so came the bargaining stage, with your rage never leaving your blood stream, of course. being petty was always one of your main personality traits, one that tamaki would often point out.

what did fujioka haruhi have that ln yn didn't?

'nothing.' you muttered to yourself.

nothing.

nothing?

could you be absolutely sure?

you didn't see her much outside of the club, and there were a couple of times you'd heard the hosts hung out together.

maybe they had a moment? or two, three?

perhaps it was high time you stopped bothering him. perhaps then he'd realise you were the one.

that's why your texts to him had much lessened, coming to a complete stop after roughly two months of your self-doubt and insecurities getting the best of you. so did your occasional visits to his house for studying. you'd even stopped wearing the perfume he got you as a birthday present last year, even though you couldn't find another scent that fit your tastes the same way.

despite your attempts at catching his attention, the bubbling fury in your chest rose once again when you realised that maybe tamaki didn't care about you at all.

he texted you as much as you texted him, he hung out with you only when you asked, and when he came closer to you and noticed the change in your scent, he went: "different perfume, princess?"

and while normally you'd be ecstatic at him noticing, your happiness was immediately destroyed when "the other one was a little old fashioned, good thing you moved to something more fresh."

why couldn't he say what he would have said had he been in an otome game, something among the lines of: 'did you wish to match mine?' or something cheesy like that? ...was your scent not to his tastes?

'did he forget his skills from hosting or what?' you whined.

consequently, now that you were sitting around doing nothing to reach out to tamaki or any of your 'friends', your mum couldn't help but take her phone in her hands to call her friend hitachiin yuzuha.

back in the pink room that is the host club, today's rendezvouses seemed to be going by awfully quickly for tamaki.

in the couple of minutes of break he had between the end of this rendezvous and next the one to come, he quickly found his phone from his back pocket and went over his schedule sent by kyouya.

your name had been crossed out and replaced with another one he recognised, another regular guest of his. he raised his eyebrow at that.

he lifted his head and looked for the shadow king.

"hey, kyouya?"

"hm?" kyouya didn't bother to look up from his laptop, furiously typing god-knows-what.

"why's yn's time gone?" he asked innocently in a curious voice that had you heard, you'd be swooning over.

"i told you, she cancelled due to personal business," his answer was straight-forward "although it's probably because she's ill."

ah, that makes sense, you were the one that cancelled.

wait, huh?

"what do you mean she's ill?" his eyebrows furrow a bit and he cocks his head to the side like a cute dog who doesn't understand anything its owner says.

"what do you mean, 'what do i mean'? she's been absent since monday because she's not feeling well, and she won't come today either. pretty simple." kyouya finally looked up at tamaki with a strange expression on his face. "has she not told you?"

tamaki shook his head a bit, "uhm.. no, not really." and tapped his phone again to check his messages on multiple social media apps to make sure he wasn't missing anything. his emails were empty too, only some spam from a newsletter page that he never bothered to cancel his subscription from.

"how do you know?" he questioned kyouya, but before he could answer, "no wait, don't answer that, you creep. of course you know." he sighed.

after some seconds of quiet thinking, "why didn't you tell me?" tamaki continued his questioning.

"everyone already knows, my lord." an awfully familiar voice butt in making the french boy turn his head around, resting his hand on his waist.

the voice belonged to kaoru, who had his arm wrapped around his twin's shoulders. seems like they also just finished with an appointment.

"what does that mean? who's 'everyone' and why am i not included?" tamaki crossed his arms, feeling kind of left out.

"that guy hayato or whatever who hangs out with yn and her friends was telling someone and we overheard." hikaru shrugged in unison with his doppelganger.

honey's soft voice entered the chat. "you mean hinata-kun? yn-chan's friend? yeah, he told me when i asked where yn-chan is because i thought she forgot to bring the candy she promised." he quickly grabbed a piece of cake from the fridge near where kyouya had been sitting and left the room swiftly.

huh, how convenient for him to enter for the plot.

"and why's it that you two evil bastards didn't bother to tell me?" tamaki exclaimed in disbelief, pointing a finger at the both of them. how could they? his precious childhood friend was sick at home and he didn't know?!

"sorry milord-" kaoru announced with his shoulders still raised, "-but you're always talking to yn-" hikaru joined, "-how were we supposed to know you're not asking her about her well-being?" they delivered the finishing blow together.

what were these lame jerks insinuating? 'not asking about her well-being'? what did they know? just as he went to respond with his usual barking, he stopped himself to instead text you on his own for the first time in a while. not that he noticed.

the twins looked at their king with a confused and weirded-out expression on both their faces, before glancing at each other and shrugging again, already disinterested. kyouya had long gone back to his work and so the twins walked to an empty sofa in an almost isolated area of the club, lying on top of one another to give a nice view to whichever client was into it.

about six minutes of pure silence passed between the two before kaoru's phone buzzed; a text from his mum.

the twins read the text simultaneously, with hikaru raising an eyebrow at its contents. they looked back at the slender boy texting you on his phone at the other end of the club, confused about his behaviour.

"seriously...?" hikaru quietly asked kaoru, referring to the text, only to be met with the other's puzzled expression.

as for the half-and-half boy, his fingers were anxiously tapping kyouya's table and awaiting your response to his message.

tamakiii ♥♥♥♥: Hey darling! Is everything alright? I heard you didn't come to school because you're sick. I thought you just didn't feel like coming. Why didn't you tell me?

he didn't know you let out a deep sigh at his text, even if it was three days late. it gave you hope - false hope. that he'd started to pay attention to you again. maybe being distant worked-

tamakiii ♥♥♥♥: want me to come over?

the question felt natural to him, you always visited his home but seldom did he ever visit yours. since you were sick, it made sense that you wouldn't come over this time.

yn>.&lt; : arent u busy rn tho lol

your name on his phone had obviously been put there by you, his choice of emoji had been party hat for some reason.

"be serious, what does that even mean, tamaki?" you'd asked him one day during a break from your studying in his room.

"you don't like it..?" he pouted like usual and you rolled your eyes.

"here. that's better." you handed him his phone back with a new 'yn >.<' as your contact name.

tamakiii ♥♥♥♥: I can just come after club activities.

wait, he was actually coming? after two months of your only contact being through your rendezvous? it worked?! it actually worked?!

you thought of how to answer him.

at your lack of fast response, tamaki thought of ways to help you feel better through your illness.

'aha! eureka!' tamaki's head echoed.

tamakiii ♥♥♥♥: I'll bring some commoner snacks we can enjoy too! Commoners have incredible food to help alleviate illness!

tamakiii ♥♥♥♥: What are you even sick with, anyway?

of course.

commoner food, of course.

haruhi's food.

yn>.&lt; : lol no its fine i dont want u to get sick. ill just c u at sxhool yn>.&lt; : school* yn>.< : doc said its just a cold but yk w my asthma n shit

tamaki was thoroughly disappointed with your response, what did you mean 'you didn't want him to get sick'? you'd never cared if you caught his cold.

his heart raced with worry, and he decided he would stop by anyway. knowing his next appointment was approaching, he speed walked over to the newest host.

"haaaaruuhiiiiii!" he waved his hand to her and her two clients, smiling widely with all of them smiling back at him.

"yeah? what is it, senpai?" haruhi looked up at him from her armchair.

"sorry to intrude-" he runs his hair through his locks - an action that you told him the ladies would swoon over, "-but i was wondering, do you have any recommendations for commoner food that sick people can eat?"

"...are you serious?"

[sweetandscarlet]

sub rosa - pt 1

warnings: handmaiden!reader, queen!wanda, slight jealously, wanda being an overprotective mommy, mention of beheadings. smut coming soon !

words: 1.8k

an: hi all! i haven't written or posted any work in so long so i'm breaking this one shot up into 2 parts just to play the field a little and see how well it receives. - saph xo

as you walked through the castle halls your hands fidgeted slightly behind you as they rested against the small of your back, your eyes stayed trained on red locks that swayed gently in front of you and every so often they'd flicker to the tall man who walked alongside the woman you worked for.

you tried not to pay attention to their conversation, instead, you focused on the details that lay before you. the walls that were decorated in gold, the maximoff family crest that had been sewn onto red banners that hung gloriously, and the gentle breeze blowing through the golden tassels that were attached at the bottom. 

you distracted yourself with anything you could see, letting your mind focus on the elements of your adopted home instead of letting jealous thoughts eat away at you as a rabid dog would to a rabbit.

"i suppose that's all for now, ser jarvis. will you be attending the celebration tonight? it wouldn't be a true carnival without the commanding officer there to toast with me"

your head turned towards the redhead, your feet coming to an instant halt as you awaited the goodbye you had been patiently anticipating for the last hour.

"of course, your majesty" the tall man nodded with a smile, his left hand never faltering from the handle of his sword. "i can imagine my men will drink the castle dry after the battle we endured"

the redhead smiled back in response before turning away, the heels of her shoes clicking with every confident step she took as she continued her walk through the halls. you scrambled behind her, your feet hurrying to catch up with her pace.

as you eventually returned to the redhead's side, you cleared your throat before speaking. "wanda, i'm not a knight by any means but.. are you sure this battle is won? starks men grow fewer every day but he still has thousands left remaining, he could-"

wanda's head whipped to where you stood, an eyebrow quirking slightly as green eyes bore into you. "what have i told you about calling me that outside of my chambers? if anyone hears you addressing me as anything other than 'your majesty' then they'll be bright enough to assume the queen is spineless by letting her handmaiden speak to her that way"

your eyes widened slightly, your hands once again fidgeting behind you as you realise your mistake. "i- i'm sorry, your majesty. it won't happen again, i promise"

a smile itched at wanda's lips as she scanned the delicate features of your face, warmth swirling deeply in her chest as she gazed upon you. "good girl, now follow me.. i have some more business to attend to and your presence is the only thing right now that's keeping me sane"

an airy chuckle escapes your lips and you nod your head in response. your fingers twitch as the urge to run your hand down the length of wanda's arm inches its way into your mind but as always, you know better than that. so instead you busy yourself with the material of your dress, allowing the fabric to course through delicate fingers and ease the desire to touch the woman before you.

ᗢ

"your majesty, if i may.." all heads that are gathered around the table at the small council meeting turn towards yelena, a savvy blonde woman with a thick russian accent who sits to the left of the queen. with her striking nobility and tranquillity, you have never doubted the famously significant role 'knight of house maximoff' being handed to the blonde. apart from you, yelena is the only other person in the walls of her kingdom that wanda trusts wholeheartedly.

as all eyes focus on yelena, you watch as wanda gently nods toward her, granting her permission to speak freely.

"i've conversed with my sister up north and she feels it important to continue your alliance with the house of harkness. with the numeral amount of men pledged by her side and her domain over wheat and rice, we'd solely benefit during this war and the harsh winter that threatens our people and this land"

wanda hums at the thought and you can see the gears turning in her mind. "alright, you make a great point yelena, thank you. could you send a raven and tell her-"

"your majesty.. wait, do you think it to be wise to have your handmaiden involved in our small council meetings? for all we know she could be travelling to stark and disclosing all of the delicate information that we share in this very room"

your eyes widen as they shoot toward a voice on your far right, one that belongs to a tall, well-built man named steve, wanda's master of the coin. his narrow gaze never falters on you, causing you to avert your eyes back to wanda. you swallow a lump of humiliation, mentally willing away the tears that threaten to spill at any given moment.

wanda clears her throat, placing her hands on the large oak table situated in front of her before rising from her seat. the chair scrapes against the floor and all heads quickly turn back to the queen, seemingly copying her action until all members of the council are stood, including steve.

"no no, everyone remain in your seats.." the sound of wood scraping the floor returns once again as they obey the command. "apart from you steve, stay on your feet"

the arrogant expression stutters on the tall man's face, his features altering to a more concerned state.

"everyone, please let steve be an example to all of you as to why you shouldn't voice your apprehensions towards me unless i grant it. y/n.." wanda motions a hand to you, her hard expression faltering for a split second when her eyes fall upon you before it quickly reverts back to a stern gaze. "has been my handmaiden for quite some time now and she is someone whom i trust greatly. anyone who has hardship with her, has hardship with me, your queen. so i suggest you all choose your words carefully in future, or i'm afraid heads will roll"

you turn your attention back to steve who now stands frigid and skittish, his eyes bulging out of his sockets at the mere threat. it's a sight that almost makes you laugh but you swallow the motion down and remain collected.

"do i make myself clear?" wanda spits, the flat of her palms moving from the wood to bunch into fists, her knuckles turning white at the pressure.

a collective of "yes, your majesty" quickly sings out into the room.

wanda smiles at that before returning to the comfort of her seat. "steve, you can sit now. if we've all finished voicing our useless opinions, let's get back to what's important shall we?"

ᗢ

heels clicked furiously in front of you as you struggle to keep up with such an intense pace. it was evident that wanda was still rattled by steve's comment regarding you, and you couldn't help but feel warmth and the familiar sensation of butterflies swirling around in your chest at the rage and protectiveness she was struggling to maintain.

"your majesty.." you gasped out, your feet practically dragging across the floor as you failed to match wanda's speed. "please, slow down. i don't care for what happened, steve he-"

"i care!" wanda bellowed, her voice practically roaring with fury as she whipped her head around to face you. your feet came to a quick halt, your body only stopping a few inches away from the redhead. "and so should you, he has no right to be speaking of you in that manner, you're just as important as him, if not more"

your eyes darted around, worry growing quickly as the realisation hit that you still were yet to reach the queen's chambers and that anybody could overhear this conversation. "my love, please.. someone could hear us" you uttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

wanda sighed, her chest heaving greatly as the weight of your words set in. she quickly scanned the halls and when she was sure it was void of people, she grasped your hand in hers and tugged you down the hallway to your left and toward her chambers.

when you and wanda eventually reach the entrance to her room she pushes open the heavy door with her free hand before promptly ushering you inside, she nudges it closed and then turns the large silver key until she hears a loud click, indicating it is locked and you were both safe to speak freely.

"i apologise for my outburst," wanda starts as she turns her body to face you, her features now softened and movements gentle as she steps toward you. "but i won't apologise for protecting you and your feelings. i care about you too much to let some narrow-minded prick think he can convey his opinions regarding who sits in on my small council meetings"

you emulate wanda's actions and step forward, seemingly closing the gap between you until you can feel the redhead's hot breath hit the cool skin of your nose. wanda's eyes stay trained on yours and it takes everything in you not to nervously avert your gaze. raising your hands slightly you cusp one of wanda's, your thumb stroking delicately on her soft skin.

"thank you, wanda, it means more than you know to hear that" your voice is gentle as you speak, something wanda admires greatly. the way words ostensibly sound as sweet as honey while they roll off of your tongue with complete unrestraint. "and i must admit, watching you defend my honour like that.. it evokes something in me that i can't explain"

wanda quirks an eyebrow at that, the corner of her lips upturning in a slight smirk. "oh? care to elaborate, darling?"

the knots in your stomach tighten slightly as wanda wiggles her hand out of your soft grasp and snakes her arms around the small of your back, pulling your bodies flush together.

the way her voice drops slightly and her tone swiftly switches to a teasing one never fails to elite a fire within you.

"well, i-"

a knock at the chamber door echoes throughout the room and wanda groans in frustration at the sudden interference. green eyes disappear as her eyelids flutter closed, and you watch the queen inhale deeply before you're once again faced with her captivatingly piercing embers.

a small chuckle escapes your lips and you lean forward, placing a chaste kiss on her now flushed-rosy pink cheeks. "go on, your majesty. duty calls.. i'll be here waiting patiently for your return"

wanda entraps her bottom lip between pearly white teeth with a soft hum, her eyelids growing hooded at your use of her title. "god, words can’t express how much i love it when you call me that”

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

@grimharuspex in the comments of that @zoe-oneesama post said it the best; Butterfly should’ve been Emotion and Peacock should’ve been Desire. I know that Zoe has a limit on what canon she changes for her comic which I respect/appreciate given the thought she puts into it (even when canon’s various nonsensical magic rules are especially grating like this) but how do you think things would’ve gone in-show if this was the setup from the get-go? On that note, do you think it’s a good setup for canon in the first place? Why or why not?

This is going to be a rather long lecture on lore and world building and how the peacock fails on every level, so before we get into that, let's start with the positives. I saw a few people pointed out the Desire idea - that being that the peacock's associated Force should have been Desire while the butterfly got Emotions - and I think that they're absolutely right. That one tiny change does fix the surface level issues and make the peacock make sense for its larger role in the narrative.

It would complicate the whole magical slave thing and also mean that you probably have to rework a few of the minor sentimonsters, but generally speaking, it makes way more sense for Desire to birth a fully realized human being. The sentipeople being people while also coming from a single emotion will always be total BS in my eyes.

At the same time, I blame no one for just sticking to canon's lore. Reworking the lore is a serious thing and even I only do it when I'm telling a lore-heavy story. There are plenty of stories where I just stick to canon's nonsense because the lore isn't important.

Now that we've done our positives, let's getting into the negatives! The issue of the day is this: changing the Force from Emotions to Desire doesn't solve the larger problems with the peacock. Problems that we'll now get into. Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one.

Issue 1: Power Diversity

While I would not call myself a superhero expert, I have seen a good deal of superhero and magical girl team shows in my time. Most of you probably have. If you think about the power sets that we see in those shows, then you'll notice that one thing is pretty much always true: every power is unique OR the powers are all closely related in some way. You never do both because the two concepts don't mix. It makes no sense for half of the characters to have totally unique powers while the other half have copies unless there's some sort of special thematic reason for this like siblings sharing a power.

Without that sort of explanation, it just feels weird and it also makes the characters feel redundant. You don't need two speedsters or two supermen! One is enough. Heck, Avatar the Last Airbender takes place in a world where whole civilizations have the same power and they STILL didn't duplicate powers for the core team because they understood that it's important to keep the characters unique.

Miraculous is pretty obviously supposed to be the type of show where the powers don't overlap. Every character gets a unique power that's uniquely suited to them. We even have this confirmed in universe during that confusing scene in the episode Destruction where Orikko - the rooster - tries to explain how his powers work:

Orikko: No, you're mistaken! Time travel is Fluff's power and I can't grant the power that already belongs to another Kwami!

This brings us to the problem with the peacock: it is not a unique power. It's derivative on multiple levels.

Derivation Level One: Akumas

The first and most obvious level is how similar sentimonsters are to akumas. In terms of how they're normally used in the narrative, they're pretty much the exact same power to the point that you literally can't tell which one you're dealing with until someone tells you. The narrative uses them interchangeably with some episodes using an akuma, some using a sentimonster, and some using both.

In fact, I thought that it was really weird that Gabriel didn't switch to maining sentimonsters back in season four. You had akumas breaking their bonds left and right, which is a thing that sentimonsters literally cannot do, making them the obvious fix to this new problem.

To really highlight the whole "indistinguishable power" issue, allow me to highlight some dialogue from Kuro Neko to show that this is very much an in-universe problem:

Cat Walker: You think that's Cat Noir? Ladybug: Of course it's Cat Noir! He must've been akumatized because he regrets having given up his Miraculous!

Ladybug: You'll see once we deakumatize him. (She runs towards Kuro Neko.) Cataclysm his bell, I'm sure that's where the akuma is! Cat Walker: Hang on! (follows her) Ladybug, what if that's a sentimonster? If I use my power on him, he'll lose control and become more dangerous!

Cat Walker: (cringes) What I mean is you're right to doubt, and I agree with you. Until we know for sure whether we're dealing with a sentimonster or someone who's been akumatized, we shouldn't make any brash decisions. (Kuro Neko leaps away.) Let's find out more.

This sort of confusion should be impossible unless it's the result of clever planning by the villain, but that's not what we're dealing with here. Kuro Neko was not about Gabriel tricking the heroes. He sent out a normal sentimonster having no idea that Chat Noir had just quit. And yet Ladybug had no idea that this was a sentimonster. She looked at it and saw an akuma.

Cat Walker also didn't know that it was a sentimonster. He just knew that it wasn't Chat Noir, which was probably the only reason that he thought to question Ladybug and warn her to be cautious. They only realize that it's a sentimonster once they learn that there's a child inside it.

This is canon accidentally telling us that akumas and sentimonster are just straight up indistinguishable unless you see then made or do some experiments to figure out what you're dealing with. That's not a good look if your claiming that each miraculous grants a unique power. It is, however, a great lead in to the second power that the peacock copies: the power of illusions.

Derivation Level Two: Illusions

I said above that it should take careful planning for a sentimonster to be confused with an akuma. While we never see that type of carefully planned setup, we do see sentimonsters used to successfully impersonate humans on several occasions. One example is the episode Optigami which gave us SentiNino and SentiAlec. Seemingly perfect clones of Nino and Alec who did whatever Shadow Moth told them to. We even see a scene where Shadow Moth is telling SentiAlec exactly what to say.

You know who else gives us this type of scene? Rena Furtive in Rocketear:

Ladybug: You said that if Nino could have heard what you were saying, there'd be no misunderstanding? Rena Furtive: Absolutely! Ladybug: How well do you remember what you guys said on the balcony? Rena Furtive: Every. Word. Ladybug: Do you think you could make... a sound illusion? Rena Furtive: Totally.

Is there any doubt in your mind that the peacock can do anything that the fox can do? What's even worse is that the peacock does illusions better than the fox! Fox illusion vanish in a puff of smoke if you touch them. SentiNino was real enough to wield a miraculous because he was a fully corporeal illusion that would have kept on going if he hadn't been snapped away. This brings us to derivation level three: the power of creation.

Derivation Level Three: Creation

The peacock doesn't just outshine the fox, it outshines the ladybug! Lucky charms vanish as soon as Ladybug detransforms. Sentimonsters last forever. The ladybug is only useful in battle as it requires a super villain to cast its cure (which is asinine, but let's not get into that here). The peacock can be used at any time. The ladybug doesn't give you what you want, it just gives you a puzzle to solve. The peacock can fulfill your deepest desires and even create life.

Outside of the extremely specific circumstances that the show gives us - aka an ongoing battle with a super villain - the ladybug is kind of useless. If you want the power of Creation, you're going to use the peacock. This brings us to our second main issue: power balancing.

Issue Two: Power Balancing

The ladybug and the black cat are supposed to be the two most powerful miraculous in existence, but it really doesn't feel like that's true. Sure, if you put them together they rewrite the universe, but that's not part of their individual base power sets. At an individual level, they don't actually feel all that powerful when compared to the butterfly and the peacock. It's more like Marinette and Adrien are smart enough to make their very limited powers work while Gabriel and Nathalie are dancing along easy street and making fools of themselves with every step.

I've mentioned before that I can forgive the butterfly's overpowered nature because this is an episodic show. They want each episode's fight to be unique and interesting and so we have to give them room to have one power set that should be an insta-win card, but isn't because plot.

I can give them that grace once. I cannot give it to them twice.

There is no reason why both the butterfly and the peacock need to feel more powerful than the supposed most powerful miraculous in existence. I've even talked to one person who is rewriting canon with the assumption that the peacock and the butterfly ARE the most powerful ones because they are! Nothing proves this better than the fact that they've both made creations that can copy the powers of the ladybug and the black cat (see: Copycat, Strikeback, Ladybug, Sandboy, Miraculer, and probably a few others that I'm forgetting).

They're also the only miraculous that don't require an active user. You can create a sentimonster or an akuma, then detransform and have a snack while your creation does whatever you need it to do. That's so incredibly broken and such a terrible move in terms of power balancing. Either have all of the powers require active users or, at the very least, have more of a mix of active and passive powers. Why do Mirage, Shelter, and Lucky Charm vanish when their caster's detransform while akumas and amoks stick around? There is no in-universe logic to explain this. It works this way because that's what the writers needed these miraculous to do. A fact that makes it impossible to get invested in the lore of this show.

When designing a complex magic system, you generally don't want "because plot" to be the only answer to why things work they way they do. You want your magic system to feel real and organic to the world. That's how fictional worlds come to life! If Miraculous' magic system was well designed, then you could take it and use it to tell a wildly different story set in the same universe, but you can't. Everything about it is designed around making canon's story work and not around making an immersive world that you can almost believe exists.

There are stories that I wouldn't hold to that standard, but they're mostly short form stories. Anything as big and complex as Miraculous needs to have a solid lore system backing it or else you lose all sense of stakes. A great example of this is the Bunnyx problem where you know that she can show up at any time and reset the timeline even if things are happening in her own past, so why do we need to worry about bad things happening? And how are the ladybug and the black cat the most powerful ones when you have nonsense like time travel and the power to create human-like creatures? Early canon lore was decently solid, but the longer the show goes, the more nonsense the lore gets and that makes me sad because I love good lore.

Some Final Thoughts

You may have noticed that I didn't really talk about the sentikid issue in this post. That's because my dislike of the peacock came long before that fun little twist. While sentiAdrien is yet another great reason to dislike the peacock, it didn't need to be a thing for the peacock to be a terrible idea. Take away the sentikids and you still have an incredibly derivative and lore-breaking power set that never should have made it into the show.

I actually completely redesigned the peacock for my own rewrite which I start plotting back when I was first watching season three, long before sentiAdrein was even on my radar. That's not something that I usually do in my fix it stuff. I usually try to stick close to canon and make more minor tweaks, but the peacock is so fundamentally world breaking that I had no choice but to do a total overhaul. This is already an incredibly long post, so I won't go into that here. I'll save it for another ask that's sitting in my inbox. I'll schedule them to post back to back.

For this post, I'll just end by pointing out that switching the peacock to Desire makes it derivative of and arguably better than the pig, too, since the pig can only tease you with what you want. The peacock actually gives it to you. In fact, I'd say that the peacock may be a better pig even without the switch!

You can also argue that the peacock is better than or at least equal to the rooster and the goat because they're also just variations of the butterfly and the ladybug's power. Like there is legitimatly potential in taking those miraculous and doing an AU where each Kwami's power is an aspect of creation because the powers are so awkwardly intertwined. Probably make the peacock the master and all others spawn from that one or something like that.

Anyway, this is why you can't design powers around characters if you want good lore and a large team! You have to start with the powers and go from there! It's why I edit Nino's character to be more of a protector since that's his supposed True Force! Also because I want him to be more narratively important but that is a rant for another day.

[echobx]

the one with the letter - JJ Maybank × ex!fem!reader

summary: you have to figure out if your love for JJ is stronger than what the world throws at you

warnings: Luke..., hurt/comfort, angsty, happy ending

word count: 2k

author's note: part 3 bc I had to. it didn't feel right to let you guys hanging. and no matter how much I try to write a JJ fic that doesn't have a happy ending, it just doesn't work. he always finds a way. he's one persistent bbg.

part 1 | part 2

The two days that you are supposed to stay in bed and focus on getting better feel like a month to you.

Going back to school feels even worse. Everyone seems to have their eyes pinned on you, to the point where you find yourself hiding in the photo lab to avoid everyone and everything for just the half hour that is your lunchtime.

“Jesus, y/n!” Pope jumps and nearly drops his camera in the process. “What are you doing here?”

But yet again you aren't granted the simplicity of loneliness when you need it most.

“Hiding,” you reply, looking up at him and his sad smile.

“Why?”

“Because everyone hates me. I get it. I'd hate myself too,” you whisper, and he crouches down by your side.

“I don't hate you,” he shakes his head, and you close your eyes to focus. He should hate you. You keep on hurting his best friend. He should definitely hate you.

He places the camera on the floor next to him before sighing. “Love's messy.”

“No, that's just me,” you say, picking at your nails. “I'm the problem.”

“You're allowed to feel sad or hurt or anything,” he whispers and takes your hand in his. “I'm glad you're better. JJ was losing his mind when your mom kicked him out. And he's not much better now either. Refused to come to school because you didn't reply to his letter.”

Your head perks up, and you furrow your brows, blinking a few times. “Letter?”

“Yeah, the letter he left you at the hospital,” Pope explains, but your confused expression lets it dawn on him that you had never known about a letter.

“There's no letter. I don't have a letter,” you insist, and he runs his hand over his face.

“Shit,” he hisses silently, and you stand up, heart pounding when you reach for your bag and pull it over your shoulder.

You curse your mom on the whole way down to the Cut, and it's a long way, but you don't stop. You can't.

“I have to go,” you mumble, and even though he tries to stop you, you won't let him.

When you arrive at the Shack, you can hear them screaming, it's not unlike what you had witnessed before. But this time you don't stop and wait for it to die down a little before walking in.

“You're an ungrateful bastard!” Luke yells, but as soon as he sees you, he stops and a mean smile plays on his face. “Haven't seen that one in a while. Why are you here? He knock you up?” Luke taunts and you swallow hard.

“Don't talk about her like that,” JJ snaps at him, taking a step closer to his dad. His fists are balled and the knuckles bruised.

“Let go!” you scream from the top of your lungs, and for some reason they stop to look at you. One step forward as you glare at Luke, and he drops JJ to the floor, a shallow thump tells you that his head hit the wood not so softly. But you can't drag your eyes off Luke, if you do, he wins.

“She's a bitch just like her mama,” Luke spits and JJ lunges forward, but he's pushed back instantly. You try to focus on your breathing to not lose yourself in the pain that is flooding your body as you watch him get hurt.

“You don't get to tell me what to do in my own house, Missy,” he glares, but you take another step closer, your eye twitching.

“I'm not afraid of you,” you hiss, and he scoffs, but you don't give him enough time to come up with a comment. “You're nothing but a drunk, child beating asshole. You don't deserve him. And it's baffling to me how someone like you was capable of fucking up so massively, but he still turned out better than anyone I've ever met. And I know I don't deserve him either, but at least I don't make him feel like shit just for being born.”

It feels like a million tons are lifted off your chest when you hear the screen door hit against the wood and the engine of his truck start and drive off.

Luke swallows, looking down at JJ. “If she's not gone by the time I get back, you can look for a new home, boy.”

“You shouldn't have done that,” JJ shakes his head as you turn to him. He has a cut on his lip and his right eye is starting to slowly swell up.

“You're hurt,” you whisper and reach up to touch his cheek, but he turns away.

“Why are you here? Wanna rip my heart out a third time?” There's resentment in his voice, but you get stuck on his counting. What was the second time?

“I came to ask something. Something important,” you whisper, but it has escaped your mind. The condition he is in feels worse to you than before. It's like a repetitive gut punch paired with slaps to your face, but your pain wasn't physical, it was all in your head.

“Can I please take care of you?” you beg, and he swallows but nods.

You clean his cuts and softly press the cold, wet washcloth to his eye. Although you haven't patched him up in months, it feels like no time has passed since the last time.

The bathroom is a mess, just like the whole house, but you don't care, you never did. It makes sense to you. It was one of the reasons why JJ had always felt more at home at your home than his own. It was the reason, why you rather stayed at the Château together than at his or at yours, where you'd always run the risk of your mom kicking him out.

“Thank you,” JJ whispers and takes the washcloth from your hand to hold onto it by himself.

“Why did you say I was going to break your heart a third time?” you ask tentatively, sitting down on the closed toilet opposite of him, while his hand clasps around the edge of the tub he's sitting on.

“I didn't wanna make you feel worse about it. It wasn't my choice to make. And it was too late already, so it didn't matter. But it hurt, it still hurts,” he mumbles without looking at you. “I keep having this nightmare- it's not really a nightmare, I guess. But when I wake up, I feel worse, and I wish the dream was real instead of my actual life.”

“What happens in your dream?” you whisper.

“You never leave me, we- we have the kid, and it's not easy, but it's happy. It feels warm and it doesn't hurt. And then I wake up, and it's just painful. It hurts so much, y/n.”

“I'm sorry,” you apologize, but you know it's not enough. You know it won't undo all the pain you caused him.

“And now you're here to tell me what? That I need to move on? Find someone better?” JJ's eyes find yours, and it feels like getting stabbed while someone keeps twisting the knife.

“So you talk to him but not me?”

“Pope said you wrote me a letter,” you start, and he rolls his eyes.

“JJ, listen to me,” you grab his face with both of your hands, forcing him to look at you. “I never got it. I was alone, and she said she told you to leave, and then you didn't text me. I thought you wanted nothing to do with me after that night, that's why I didn't text you either. But I don't know about any letter. I mean, I didn't even know it existed before Pope found me in the photo lab and told me, and then I ran here immediately. I'm sorry.” You take a deep breath, and he searches your face, and for once you're not even lying to yourself anymore.

“I was scared is all, that's why I wrote it,” he shrugs his shoulders, and you drop your hands down to your thighs.

“What did it say?”

“That I wish I could turn back time and make you feel more loved than I did. That I hate seeing you smile at that jerk. That I- That I don't want to ever lose you again. You scared me so much, and I don't know why you ran after him, and then you fell, and I wasn't fast enough, I couldn't stop your fall. And I felt like I lost you for good, forever, and John B drove like a maniac, and it wasn't fast enough. And then they didn't let me stay with you at first, and I had to sit there while they did all those tests, and they didn't tell me shit. I wanted to stay, wait until you woke up but- Your mom said it was my fault, and I believed her. Because it's always my fault. So I wrote it down, how much I do love you but that it's not gonna work because it can't be, she's right. And I asked her to give it to you. I promised to stay away if she would just give you the letter. Because I couldn't- I thought you were dead, and I was ready to end it too, if it meant I could be with you. I know that's stupid, but that's how I felt. And now you know, and you can leave, because you should leave. I'm not good for you, I never was, and you knew that, that's why you left me,” he finishes his venting, but you have no words left in you. There was nothing you could say that would make it better because words were not enough to encompass how you feel.

“What are you doing?” JJ whispers against your lips, but you kiss him again. And he kisses you back, cautiously slow.

You lean forward, brushing the palm of your hand over his cheek before holding onto it and placing a soft kiss on his lips. He tastes like beer and blood, a weird mix, but a familiar one at that.

“I'm not gonna leave ever again, I promise,” you whisper, and he looks into your eyes, pain and anxiety still prevalent in his own.

“Are you sure?” he asks, brushing through your hair with his free hand.

“Positive. We can get our own place, just you and me. Maybe that'll make it easier,” you smile and he nods. “I'm very sorry for what I did,” you apologize again.

“I made Kie write those notes. She didn't want to. Said you don't deserve it after all,” he mumbles. “They don't know about- You know…”

“I didn't tell anyone either,” you admit and he nods.

“Yeah, but he deserves it,” you press your face into his chest. His bed, his arms, all of it makes you feel more alive than anything you had done the past months.

“You stood up to my dad,” JJ chuckles. “That was incredibly stupid, you know that, right?”

“You really don't think you deserve me? You know I'm nothing but a weed smoking delinquent, right?”

“Who said that?” you pull away to look at him.

“Guess,” he snorts, and you furrow your brows in anger.

“I hate her. That's the only thing he was right about. She is a bitch,” you exhale the anger over your own mother.

“What'ya think happened between them two?” JJ wonders and you sigh.

“My mom being my mom, and Luke being Luke…, I'm guessing nothing pretty.”

“I love you, y/n. And I don't think I'll ever stop, no matter how hard it gets,” JJ whispers and kisses the top of your head.

“It's gonna be pretty hard, knowing you,” you giggle, and he fakes a gasp.

“I see how it is. First, you steal my heart, then my jokes.”

“I learned from the best,” you grin at him and he kisses you. It feels like the very first time. Exciting and with millions of butterflies in your stomach, and at the same time it's a forever kiss. It's a promise that you won't break, because you finally understand that you can't be without him.

“I love you, too, J,” you hush against his lips, and he smiles into another kiss.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart

[r4inyclouds]

You can take Steve Rogers out of the fight, but you can't take the fight out of Steve Rogers.

I heavily recommend putting ya glasses on for this ride of a rant. A... practically an essay on how Steve was out of character in Endgame:

Look, I still wholeheartedly believe that Sam deserves the title of Captain America, but even before that Steve dropped that shield, that title in the Civil War movie, for Bucky, in respect for Tony. Captain America wasn't even his label for years after that. Surprising how many didn't realise Steve in the endgame movie was Nomad, not Captain America.

But, he still fought, didn't he?

So people who say "Steve will always be THE Captain America!!" can go cry about it for all I care. Sam is the hero that he deserves to be. Yet, I suppose we're all entitled to our own opinions.

I don't even think the producers at the time even read the comics they were basing their large franchise on. That Steve in Infinity War wasn't Steve.

He was born a stubborn fighter, he was meant to end as that stubborn fighter we knew from 'The First Avenger'. It's in his nature how he was meant to be articulated as a person. It's in the comics, that hell- I haven't even exactly read most nor possess many of them! It's a joke, a jest; it's funny but not funny 'haha hilarious', but funny, odd, peculiar and perplexing. But from what I've seen from the fans on this side of the debate who have read the comics thoroughly, they all explicitly state that Steve would never do this or abandon anyone. I could, respectively, not care that the MCU was never, and never will be, canon to the comics, but they couldn't even keep one thing, an aspect that's similar or alike in any particular way to the comics, and that's the whole nature and personality of one of their most main focused characters, diverging from the whole point, centre, heart of Steve.

Steve never needed a label that told him he was a hero even when he was some twink before the serum, his whole arch, his whole goal was to become someone who helped, it wasn't from the start to settle down with a woman he was at a high school situation ship with, maybe, just maybe it could've worked if they attempted to even build and develop their relationship for it to make that little sense. Steven Grant Rogers admitted to being that stubborn little thing, and in a sense, he was like that, someone who determined to not be a coward and went against his non-spoken word.

And no, this has nothing to do with the fact I'm a HUGE Stucky shipper, I exclusively tried to avoid talking about Bucky in this half of the rant for a reason. I love Peggy, she's in my top 5, and I love domestic Steggy. It's just it was never right for Steve.

Steve will never, ever be able to run away from what he is. He is THE fight, with or without a useless hero label.

Now since I'm a bucky glazer, and he's my favourite character (I'm putting him in a jar once I get my first-ever Funko pop) I will go on to talk about Steve and Bucky, now, I'd understand if someone would not want to read this part because I'm 'just a wild Stucky shipper!' Who's own priority is trying to keep the ship afloat (I'm also occasionally a Sam x Steve x Bucky shipper but that's besides the point) But in this segment, I will be talking about them in an otherwise platonic sense; it doesn't even need to be romantic for me to say this. And, honestly, if the character of Bucky never existed in this universe, I would've still had this rant on my Tumblr about why Steve leaving is just... odd.

Okay, Steve spent THREE, THREE, I REPEAT THREE, HIS WHOLE DAMN TRILOGY, having at least one huge plot point just purely based on Bucky in each of his movies.

1. He went against whole military orders to get Bucky back, had a whole depression episode thinking he was dead, and then had another depression episode when he died, and then kind of just offed himself after that (Now, am I saying he offed himself for no reason for other than his friend?... yeah, so, there's a deleted scene where Rhodey asks Steve about how he practically died, and why he didn't just jump out into the water before he crashed, I'm tellin' you if you search it up it's there, now, people suspected that the reason it's a deleted scene is that it, well, opens a plot hole, and it just kind of seems like... he killed himself because bucky's dead? Like, ya know, there's no other reason to why he did this. But I might just be reaching there) God. So that point just says a lot about how the producers didn't even think for one second about him going back in time.

2. Nearly got killed by him, but when he figured out it was Bucky he went a berserk kind of insanity and risked his life as he put his trust in a man who was about to knock the shit out of him. Then, like- went for months on end to get Bucky back just because he left him on the side of the beach to not let him drown. Yeah, okay, sir. Also, does everyone just... Like, all silently agree not to talk about how they casually just drop platonic wedding vows to each other in every movie? Like, what do you exactly mean by "I'm with you 'till the end of the line", every time I hear that quote I go "WRITE THIS DOWN, WRITE THIS DOWN!" (not like I'll be getting married though)

3. How am I meant to summarise this with detail without just saying the few words in my mind that would just tell you the whole plot? [Squints eyes, checks notes]... Guess I gotta. 'Bro split Avenger for bro, Avenger no longer, Captain America? No longer for bro, bro picks bro up, bro says wedding vow, bro sad Wakanda.'

Then, now, I apologise sincerely for using this analogy, but he kinda, just, ya know, abruptly left to get the milk. He dropped everything once he got the chance to go back and left poor Bucky wide-eyed like some traumatised puppy with attachment issues they newly developed after shown that much devotion and affection from an owner who'd treat them right, and then was suddenly dropped into a random field of an environment, unfamiliar, they don't recognise it, as they then watch the rustic car they were once rescued from becoming a blur, speeding off into a distance he couldn't possibly ever trace back to. What in the holy fuck was that waste of three movies then.

(DEEP FUCKING BREATHS, RAIN, HOLY SHIT DEEP FUCKING BREATHS)

I hope people can't tell I'm a fanfic writer; this is the shittiest thing I've ever written, I swear my fanfics are more descriptive and crap, but I'm foaming from the mouth right now; I think I permanently disrupted my breathing pattern, well done me.

Sigh, okay, well.

He's a defender for his friends; his bonds double-tied with the strength that could be held within the core of the earth, yet that somehow immediately loosened, cracking the surface, crevice by crevice of that earth with one scene, one moment. His mantle of the goal, his word that he once held dear to his child heart, became not even an earth-shattering break.

Now, here we are.

So, I shall, if you don't mind, end this with my small conclusion of how it's was out of character for Steve to leave.

You can take Steve Rogers out of the fight, but you can't take the fight out of Steve Rogers.

[tinfoil-jones]

For Your Own Good: Intermission

Askbox? Open

If you don't know what this post is about, "For Your Own Good" or tagged as "Early Amnesia AU" on tumblr is a dialogue-only Gravity Falls fanfiction I've been working on that kinda-sorta follows a Mystery Trio -esque timeline, where Ford doesn't build the portal. To sum it up, the whole fanfiction boils down to:

Researcher Ford: I told you I never wanted to see you again.

Mullet Stan: Dude, I don't know who you are or WTF you're talking about right now, but I'm leaving this town and never coming back. You are never seeing me again after this. I'm probably going to forget you in like five minutes.

Researcher Ford:

Researcher Ford: *immediately kidnaps him*

You can consider chapters 1-10 to be Act 1 of the fanfic, and I’m taking a break for at least a week, most likely longer. The chapters so far were already written out in advance, and so was a huge reveal, but I still need to tie things together.

Here’s some authors notes/extra stuff about it, some of it might have already been put in the AO3 before or after notes. These are in no particular order:

This takes place 10 years after Ford and Stan were separated, currently they are both 27 about to be 28. Fiddleford is slightly older than them, being in his early 30s.

Ford is unironically the only person who finds Stan’s really dumb jokes funny.

Ford is the one who displays the most behaviours that would be seen from Mabel and Dipper decades later. Like Dipper, he views washing clothes as a waste of time, and like Mabel he ate an entire tube of toothpaste (granted, it was on accident)

While Ford is the more likely of the two to display traits that later present in Mabel and Dipper, it still happens with Stan as well. Stan has a similar nervous-chewing habit that Dipper displays in the OG series, but his only comes out when he’s particularly anxious. In this case, it was because he had nicotine cravings.

The 'That motherfucker is ugly' line that Stan used on Ford can be considered extra ironic because of how much the Stan Twins look like their dad.

Bill Cipher was originally supposed to speak in Times New Bastard (which is Times New Roman except every 7th letter is jarringly sans serif, a meme from tumblr), but AO3 and tumblr don’t let you change the font.

Stan goes out of his way to avoid using Ford and Fiddlefords given names- but this isn’t because he doesn’t know what they are. In the few times he has used their names, it was a sign that he was being sincere.

If you want to wonder whether or not Fiddleford likes Stan back, consider the fact that he could have walked away at any point, and either washed his hands of the whole thing, or just outright reported Stanford to the authorities. 

Bill is more like Discord from MLP - he’s just chaotic, often to the detriment of others, but he isn’t outright malicious (anymore), and he’s too busy SIMPING to cause any real harm. Basically, Bill is Fords patron for studying weirdness - he helps Ford in his research, but the cost that Ford pays is that Bill is able to possess him when he sleeps, and has unlimited access to his brain.

If Ford knew Rick Sanchez, why didn’t Rick see how similar Stan looked and put 2-and-2 together? Easy; Rick didn’t give a single shit about Ford, so he never committed his face or name to memory. Ford himself only remembered Rick because Rick was such a massive, egotistical asshole. If anything, Rick would think Ford is the lesser version of Stan.

Chapter 10 was the first concrete proof that the Stan we’ve been following likely is Stanley Pines and not some similar conman named Stan Malone. The last time Ford saw Stan would have either been when they were teens, so other than Stans commercials for his failed products there’s no way Ford would know what an adult Stan would even look like, and he’d have to use himself as a reference.

Stan has given some insight on his Thalassophobia (fear of the ocean / large bodies of water). In Chapter 10, he told Ford a number of things he escaped, including the trunk of a sinking car, and cement shoes. Cement shoes are either when you tie someone to a cinder block and throw them into a body of water, or when you literally incase their feet in cement, wait for it to dry, and then toss them into a body of water, so they’ll drown. Presumably, these are still things that would have happened to him even if he didn't lose his memories, so why would it give him a fear of the ocean now? Stan Pines in the OG still had a lot of positive memories associated with the ocean - he grew up on the coast, and had a lot of his hopes and dreams tied to the ocean. But without his childhood memories, he has no positive associations with it, only memories of times he almost drowned. 

Ford himself is not a touchy guy. The reason he hugs Stan even though it isn’t reciprocated is because from his perspective, this is his twin brother who is in pain and has been suffering all by himself for a long time. And Stan - at least how Ford remembers him - had a very touch-based love language. Fords doing it because he thinks it’d comfort him.

Stan seems pretty calm and chill for someone who’s been kidnapped by a ‘stranger’. This isn’t because he’s an overall chill guy because of amnesia, no he’s super pissed and the second he knows he’s free he will let them know that with his words, and incredible violence. He’s remaining calm because he’s been imprisoned and kidnapped enough times to know that pitching a fit or lashing out at his captors won’t do him any favours.

Fiddleford is still married to Emma-May and they do have Tate. But it's one of those lavender marriages (they're both gay and mutually bearding each other)

[felice-jaganshi]

Made With Love

Radioapple Fic

Chapter 1: Lambchops

(This chapter based off fanart from notherpuppet, I love them so much)

The candles were lit and the sigil was drawn in lamb's blood. All that was left was to invoke his name, and see if he actually showed up. If not, at least Alastor could have a nice lamb chop dinner.

“Lucifer, King of Hell, Lord of Pride. I implore thee to grace me with thy presence this evening.” He spoke as sweetly as he could, using every trick he possessed to sound as alluring as possible. He was in his mother's living room, though she no longer lived here… he'd always call it hers. 

 

There was a full minute of silence, standing in the dark room with the candles as the only light. He sighed and began to turn away, when the room suddenly got brighter!

He turned, and saw the fireplace, blaze to life, where it had previously been dark and empty of any kindling at all! Shit! But he was supposed to manifest within the circle so he was contained! He must have done something wrong, now he'd have no control over the devil!

The fire blazed white and out onto the stone hearth stepped a flaming figure with horns and a tail, red glowing eyes locking on Alastor. 

Alastor's face split into an excited grin, “Greetings, your majesty. I'm honored that you actually took the time to visit my humble abode.” He bowed at the waist, but kept eye contact. 

 

“You're alone, human? No… others?” His voice reverberated with the flickering of the flames. He sounded curious, which Alastor hoped was a good thing.

“No, I am not part of any cult or anything. My summoning you was for entirely personal reasons. I beseech You, please hear out my request. I require power. Physical power.”

 

“Oh? And where is my lamb?” He sounded… bored.

“Oh yes, right here your Majesty!” He motioned to the dining table, and at lovely cooked lambchops.

The demon looked over and all the fire left his form, revealing a man. Much shorter than Alastor expected… he wore all white and stepped forward towards the table.

“You cooked it? Damn, that's a first actually.” He looked impressed.

“Well, please enjoy your lamb sire, then may we get down to business?” He smiled at the short devil, examining him. We'll, he's certainly not what Alastor expected the devil to look like, certainly less red… but he is known as The Deceiver for a reason. This is probably just a trick to make Alastor lower his guard or test him into being discourteous, so he can steal his soul without granting his request!

 

Lucifer sat down at the small table, “Well, you might as well join me. You prepared enough lamb to feed two!” He chuckled and kept his beautiful red eyes on Alastor, with a sharp toothy grin. Alastor felt it was more of a demand than a request. 

“If that is what you desire.” He went to get another plate and wine glass before sitting down and pouring them each a glass.

“So, what part of earth have I been summoned to? And what year is it?”

“You're in Louisiana, Sire. And the year is 1927. This is my mother's home, or… was rather…” He kept his smile on, but looked away with a deep sadness in his eyes. 

“I can't bring people back to life, if that's what you were gonna ask for.” Lucifer said softly, feeling pity for the young man. He took a bite of the lamb and his eyes went wide, “Whoa! Did your mom teach you to cook like this?! I'm gonna have to make you my personal chef!” He then dug in enthusiastically. 

“Is that what you'd desire of me for the power I require?” Alastor hadn't touched his food yet, just watching in awe as the devil ate all the way down to cleaning the bones.

 

“Huh? So focused on business. And here I was hoping for some good dinner conversation. Well, before I offer anything to you, I need an idea of what I'm working with here. ‘Power’ is a rather vague concept without context. And since you made me such a delicious offering, I'm feeling gracious enough not to immediately fuck you over.” He rest his chin on his folded hands and smiled softly, eyes half closed as he felt satisfied with a full stomach. 

 

Alastor sighed, “Very well, if I must.” He had hoped to avoid sharing his personal details with the demon, but he was damning his soul anyway. 

“My mother… she was murdered, and I wish to get revenge for her. But I'm not strong enough to take on the whole group by myself. So I would like to petition you for assistance. To borrow power from you so I may avenge her and make sure they never do this to anyone again.”

Lucifer stared intently as Alastor spoke. “I see… well, I could use some entertainment. So how about I make this extra interesting. For the duration of your hunt, I'll make you not just powerful, but I'll make it so no one will be able to tie the murders to you either.” He wanted to see how Alastor would handle this gift.

His eyes lit up, “Truly? And what do you ask in exchange for such a generous offer?”

“Well, standard arrangement for such a deal would be your soul. But let's make this more interesting. Once a month for the rest of your life and afterlife, you have to summon me for dinner. Not necessarily lamb everytime, I have quite the diverse palette.” 

“Dinner with the Devil once a month? And I get to keep my soul? Well, I Believe we have a deal then, your Majesty.” He held out his hand, and Lucifer shook it.

 

 

His first murder! It was exhilarating! The Power coursing through his body was a high he could hardly keep sane through, it was immediately addictive. He needed more!

That thought made him flinch and look in the mirror of his bathroom where he was cleaning up. His eyes… They were red now, like the Devil's. But it was already fading back to brown as the power left. No- no! Come back! I need the power!  

He felt a cold sweat over his body. “I… I may not have given my soul, but hell is already my destination.” He knew that should scare him, that he should be begging God for forgiveness and protect, but he didn't want either of those things. With this power, he could protect himself from anything! He was powerful now and no one could stop him!

The thrill of the realization sent shivers down his spine. That's what this was, excitement, not fear.

It was time for the next Victim. Tomorrow, he'd get Their leader.

 

Next month, he summoned Lucifer again, this time making him jambalaya and hoping for the best.

When Lucifer stepped in through the fireplace, he smiled softly, holding a box.

“Hey kiddo, it smells great in here! How've you been enjoying my powers, it looked like you were having fun.”

 

“Sire, can you please not call me ‘Kiddo’. I am an adult man.” Alastor's grin tightened, “And yes, I've been enjoying your gift immensely. However… I am coming close to the end of our arrangement, soon I will eliminate the last of the men who directly killed Mother… And I must admit, I am loathe to let go of the powers you've granted me… there are more Sinners who deserve to be punished. More lives I could save! I-” He caught himself, realizing he was getting carried away in front of Lucifer himself!

 

“Well, if that's how you feel, how about another deal?” He smiled and sat down to enjoy his meal, setting down the box on the table. “Ooooh, what'd you make this time?” He licked his lips.

“It's jambalaya, have you never had it before, Sire?” 

“Nope! Never heard of it.” He dug right in, and purred as he ate. 

“Your praise is appreciated, you majesty.” God, why did that purring make him seem almost... cute?

“And you're so polite too. Is it out of respect, or fear?”  He looked Alastor up and down before motioning to the chair across from him.

“Please, join me. You are pleasant company.”

 

Alastor sat, “Thank you, Sire.”

“Please, call me Lucifer. We're about to become much more intimately connected if you accept my offer.”

He waited for Alastor to eat his portion of dinner before getting to business.

“Now, you want to keep my powers after you've avenged your mother.

I will let you keep the strength I loaned you in exchange for ownership of your soul. Is that agreeable?” He held out his hand with a smile. Something about it looked… hungry.

Alastor took a deep breath, then slowly shook the Devil's hand. “Yes. My soul is yours upon my death.” 

Lucifer frowned at that last part, “Aw, only after your death? I can't just call you mine now?” He then chuckled and softened his expression, “Very well, enjoy your few years of freedom wisely, my pet. I look forward to continuing our monthly meals as well.”

“Yes, Sire, I will enjoy my time to the fullest!"

 

“Good, I'll be keeping an eye on you… make me impressed, my dear.” He chuckled and took his leave.

Alastor noticed the small black box he'd left behind, and curiosity got the better of him. He opened it up, and found a note card that said “To Alastor” on it. Underneath was a silk bowtie.

[xpao-bearx]

"Like A Virgin"

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Read Part 1 HERE

Read Part 2 HERE

Read Part 4 HERE

NOTES: The fact that the idea for this part was already causing me such INTENSE brainrot way before I even finished writing Part 2 (which is pretty funny cuz I actually had a TOTALLY different idea compared to how this part is now, but hey my stoopid brain does what it does) 👁👄👁 Anyhoe, I am SO stoked for this (it also turned out quite long)!! It's finally got ✨️smut✨️ which I know my fellow sluts have been waiting for, BUT it's not the actual sexy sex yet cuz I'm saving that for the last part. Don't worry, it'll definitely be worth it~ ;)

BTW there's a part in this where Steven recites French poetry by Marceline Desbordes-Valmore and I used Google Translate for the English, so if the translation is off then I'm very sorry!

And I just wanna thank y'all sooo much again from the bottom of mah lil black heart, like SERIOUSLY! You lovelies are truly spoiling me with all your sweet comments, likes, and reblogs 😭❤️❤️❤️ And I swear that after the unexpectedly huge success of this fic, it made me fall RIDICULOUSLY HARDER for Oscar ISNACC and I have y'all to blame for dragging me even deeper into DILF Hell Heaven. Like, it's actually a problem when I suddenly feel like giggling and kicking my feet while I'm suffering at work just at the thought of him 😂

I also haven't been this confident and motivated in a while, and this is one of the VERY rare times I'm actually updating pretty quickly without the temptation of slacking off and abandoning it. I love writing and this fic is my baby, and it's just so fucking incredible that you guys are loving what I'm putting out, too, so once more: THANK YOU 🥰

Who knows, maaaybe more Moon Knight fics will come out in the future from me and fingers crossed that Moon Knight Season 2 will be confirmed 🤭

And the tag list has been updated! I also included some readers who I thought wanted to follow this whole series, so if you find yourself tagged despite not asking to be then that's why LMAO xD As always, the tag list is open so don't be shy to ask if you'd like to be added on it! ^_^

TAGS: @autismsupermusicalassassin @ungracefularchimedes @pimosworld @ababynova @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @anapnovo-blog @am-3-thyst @harrys-tittie @zukoisbabee @wiltedwonderland @the-ginger-draws @bitchyglitterfox @readingfan @spidey-3 @minigirl87 @wandasupremacy @simba-will-live-on @wavychelle @thepowerthismanhasoverme @blackholegladiator @kittytiddywinks @literalfkinsimp

Part 3: Like a virgin, touched for the very first time

After the flurry of honesty and an insane whirlwind of emotions, you and Steven finally winded down. It was a bit awkward following that, but he asked (well, sputtered) if you'd like to stay. He immediately apologized, knowing that he was overstepping boundaries and he completely understands if you rejected such a mental idea.

But it was late, and there was absolutely no way he was going to let you go home alone especially with the state you're in. And also...

Well, call him a selfish knob, but he just wanted--needed--to be with you.

But you agreed to stay--enthusiastically so. You both were flustered, though sharing a laugh together had all the tension fade away.

Because, truly, you were right where you were supposed to be.

♡•••🌙•••♡

Steven prepared dinner for the two of you, consisting of five-minute vegan mac and cheese courtesy of his microwave then indulging yourselves with the box of chocolates he brought at the failed date for dessert. It wasn't "grand" by any means, but it was the best you ate in a long time.

All thanks to the cute host... Actually, your gorgeous boyfriend.

Just the thought had you grinning like a doofus, the butterflies in your belly now transforming into fucking birds.

Did that make sense? Hell no, but being with Steven absolutely did.

"Love..." Steven's strong arms encircled around your waist from behind, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Make yourself comfortable, yeah? Don't worry, I'll sleep on the couch."

You gasped, affronted, quickly whipping around to face him. "Excuse you, sir, but I have every reason to be worried!" You huffed dramatically. "You are definitely not sleeping on the couch, Steven. And if you still insist that you are, then I'll just join you!"

Steven chuckled, his cheeks glowing pink. He rested his chin atop your head, pulling you closer to him. "The couch is too small for the two of us... So for a good night's sleep, I suppose I have no choice but to share the bed with you, yeah?"

"You say that as if you'd rather not." You pouted playfully, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head against his chest. You can faintly hear the erratic thrum of his heartbeat, matching your own.

"I'm just pulling your leg, sweetheart." He teased, kissing your head.

How the fuck did he ever get so lucky? He thought he was going crazy, that this was all just a dream--but it wasn't. Dreams were never this good. You were right here, right now, in his arms. Wholly accepting him for who he is. Loving him.

And he fucking loved you, too.

"Where's the bathroom, baby?"

Baby. The name made his heart stop for a full second. Heat once again crept up to his cheeks and all the way to the tips of his ears, his voice not coming out as all he could do was just point towards the bathroom as he stared down at you in a completely lovestruck sort of wonder.

You giggled, blushing as well before leaning up on your tiptoes and pecking his nose. "You go relax, Steven. I'll join you soon."

He watched you saunter off, still glued in place and a hand atop his frenzied heart.

He had no idea how in the world he was supposed to relax, especially now that the situation fully hit him like a freight train. But thankfully, he found his legs moving for him and his body taking the liberty of changing into his cozy pyjamas before climbing onto bed.

He put on his ankle restraint and settled down, covering the blanket over him like some posh Victorian duchess as he laid completely stiff. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, lifting his head and squinting every so often at the closed bathroom and your obscure shadow dancing amidst the light peeking through the tiny crack of the door underneath.

And it was so...quiet. Neither Marc nor Jake has uttered a single peep, which was highly unusual. Either one or both of them always had something to say, regardless of whatever Steven was doing and he was the same whenever they were fronting.

But as of the moment, he couldn't even handle speaking with Marc. Not after what he did. Marc and Jake were his family and there was no doubt that he and Marc will eventually make up, but no one was ever allowed to hurt you--especially now that you two were officially together.

Jake, on the other hand... Well, he was known to butt into Steven's business. But Jake always gave him a good push, and he would never actually force Steven to do something if Jake didn't believe he could do it. Truly, Steven owed Jake for technically setting you and him up.

But besides Marc, Steven was more surprised that Jake wasn't yapping away especially when you were involved. It didn't go unnoticed for Steven the way Jake has...changed. Only when you were around, at least. And despite Jake being the stealthiest of them all, Steven could always feel him silently observing you at work deep within the recesses of his mind.

But Steven never said anything. He just understood--accepted--Jake, and he was sure that Jake knew. But Steven didn't mind it; in fact, it made him feel less alone.

After all, how could anyone ever resist you?

He then sighed deeply, shaking his head. Clearly it was no use just laying in his bed like a corpse, so he sat up and threw the blanket off before grabbing a random book from his bedside table and donned his glasses. But his brain was too muddled, heart still not ceasing its turbulent thump as he couldn't even register the words popping out of the worn pages he has read a thousand times.

"So you wear glasses, too, huh?"

He flinched slightly at your voice, seeing you standing at the foot of his bed. You chuckled softly before your eyes landed on his ankle restraint, raising a brow.

"S-Sorry, it's..." He scrambled for something--anything. "I...I know it's a huge red flag, but I have a...sleeping disorder. I promise it ain't for something, um...sexual."

"No need to make excuses, Steven. I don't think it's a red flag."

'And I wouldn't mind if you used it on ME.' You bit back the risqué words that nearly tumbled out your foolish, needy mouth.

Steven only smiled shyly, putting the book away before he gasped when he suddenly felt something plop down on his lap.

Something soft, warm, and lovely.

"Is...is this okay..?" Now it was your turn to be shy, meeting his gaze tentatively.

"More than okay." He breathed, staring up at you with an awed grin. "Gods, Y/N, you're beautiful."

"Thanks, this is my 'I wonder how I didn't pass out from running the most I never thought I could' look." You laughed. But Steven didn't, guilt clouding his features.

He placed his hands on your hips, brows knitting together and jaw squaring. "I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn't have to do that, didn't have to meet me. I would've hated it, but I would've totally understood if you never wanted to see me again. And yet...I was happy when you did come."

"I'm happy, too, Steven." You assured him, one hand on his shoulder while the other combed through his fluffy curls. "And honestly, I would do it again. If you were in, hell, Egypt--I'd still find a way to you, no matter what."

His expression softened, a smile replacing his frown as he leaned forward and laid his head on your chest. "Please do one favour for me, though?" You kept quiet, patiently awaiting his words. "If you ever meet Marc, punch the prick."

"Baby, I can only slap him! No way I'd ever damage your godsent face." You laughed again, little snorts wracking your body that Steven found so damn endearing. Then he looked up, his chin resting in between the pillowy softness of your breasts.

"Love... Call me that again."

"Baby." You obeyed with zero hesitation, and Steven groaned. A deep, rumbly sound that sent tingles all throughout your body. You lightly tugged on his hair, making his head tip back and gaze locking with his pretty brown eyes that have gotten darker, pupils dilated.

"Baby..." Your voice came out as a pathetic whine, your hand on his shoulder holding on for dear life. "Wanna kiss you."

Like a predator pouncing on its prey, Steven swooped up to catch your lips--only for the both of your glasses to bump into each other.

An awkward beat passed between the two of you before you both exploded into riotous laughter. The two of you fell side by side on the bed, giggling so much that tears sprang to your eyes and your stomachs hurt.

Once you two finally calmed down, you exchanged bright smiles and Steven rolled on top of you. His elbows dug into the bed on either side of you, making sure not to bear down his weight on you. He then took off both of your glasses, setting them aside on the bedside table.

"Shall we try again, love?" But Steven didn't wait for your response, crashing his lips with yours.

It was chaste. Feather light. So much better than what you ever imagined it to be like. Steven's lips were unexpectedly soft, but there was a certain firmness in the way he kissed you. Your eyes fluttered shut, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer to deepen the kiss.

Steven cradled the side of your face gently, lovingly, as if he was handling glass. Then, experimentally, you nipped on his bottom lip. He gasped sharply, and you slid your tongue inside his mouth.

It was obvious how inexperienced you were, but Steven certainly didn't mind. In fact, it only turned him on even more that you wanted to spend your precious first time with him.

And he was definitely never letting you go.

You moved your tongue uncertainly, small panic brewing inside of you if you were doing it right. All those shows and movies made kissing look so easy; but you were soon snapped out of your thoughts as Steven's tongue tangled with yours, taking the lead as he coaxed you into a lazy, sensual dance.

And that drew a long, beautiful moan out of you. Steven craved more, more, more--wanting to push you to the very limit, a lustful, greedy beast suddenly possessing his body.

But oh, he knew, deep down, that beast has always been there; waiting for the right moment to be released.

Waiting for you.

He then slowly pulled away, a thin string of saliva connecting your tongues. Your entire body was flushed, lips puffy and eyes hazy with anguished yearning as you stared up at him. Your hands reached out, clinging on tightly to his black sweatshirt. Despite being on the bed, you felt as if you were free falling into a bottomless pit.

And you wanted to fall--with Steven.

"Steven..." You murmured, one leg wrapping around his waist. "Are you gonna make love to me?"

"No." His reply was instant, levelling his gaze with yours. "I will, but not tonight, darling. I don't have any condoms."

"I...I don't mind..."

A low purr reverberated from his throat. Fuck, were you even aware of what you were saying? Of the sweet, tempting danger it entailed?

He might as well just tie you up, keep you in his apartment forever. With him. ONLY him.

He shook his head, quickly stamping down such dark, possessive thoughts.

"Love." He emphasized through clenched teeth, and you saw the way his inner conflict flickered in his eyes. "Not tonight, Y/N. But that doesn't mean I can't still please you, yeah?"

He pulled your leg off of his waist then pressed his lips to your ankle, electricity coursing directly to where you desired it most.

He never broke eye contact, his lips slowly trailing down the smooth expanse of your leg before pausing at your crotch. He chuckled deeply, ignoring it as he moved to your stomach.

You mewled desperately, wiggling slightly. "Baby." You pleaded, nearly breathless. "Please... Don't fuckin' tease me."

"M'sorry, pretty girl. Just let me worship you, yeah? You deserve it." He hummed, completely unbothered. "I deserve it."

He pushed up your tank top, your breasts spilling erotically and...fuck, was that a belly button piercing?

"First year of college. It was a completely lucid decision." You giggled at his stunned expression. "Hurt like a bitch, but I've always wanted one."

"Looks like I'm not the only one with secrets, then." He chuckled, kissing your belly with utmost tenderness and your breath getting caught in your throat. His lips languidly traced upwards, reaching your breasts and burying his face in between them and inhaling deeply.

Now he understood why Jake wouldn't shut the hell up about the way you smelled after asking you out.

His left hand groped one of your breasts, breath stuttering at the wonderful plushness. Then he raised his head, eyes locking intently with yours once more as his tongue flicked your pert nipple. You whimpered for more, more, more--back arching as you eagerly offered yourself to him.

And he just as eagerly accepted your gracious offer, mouth latching on to your nipple. You moaned as he sucked and squeezed, his teeth grazing slightly against the sensitive bud, only magnifying the maddening sensations you had no control over yet had the privilege to be a willing victim to.

He pulled away with a resounding 'pop' before giving your other breast equal devoted attention, his right hand making its descent lower, lower, lower--slipping inside your shorts and his chest blazing at the dampness that greeted him.

"Bloody hell..." He grunted, erection straining painfully against his pyjama pants. He glanced down, his much larger hand cupping your entire pussy. "Wanna fucking taste you, angel. Can I? Please, love, I wanna taste your pretty pussy."

"Y-You don't even have to ask..." You squeaked, completely scarlet from head to toe. "Just take me, baby."

Steven grinned wolfishly, a gleam in his eyes that you've never seen before making your heart skip a beat. Without wasting another moment, he practically ripped your shorts off. He groaned as he saw the wet splotch in the middle of your panties, yanking them down your legs before bringing it up to his nose as a shiver ran down his spine at your intoxicating scent.

Your arousal was flowing down to your thighs, eyes glazed over as if in a trance as you watched Steven sniff your panties like a beast in heat. Then he shimmied out of his pants, your eyes widening as his cock stood proudly; thick and veiny, the tip an angry red and leaking with pre-cum. His fist, still clutching on to your panties, wrapped around his cock as he leaned down to meet your pussy.

Instinctively, you snapped your legs shut, hands flying to your face.

"I-I'm sorry!" You sobbed, briskly shaking your head. "I'm sorry, so sorry! I...I can't, Steven..."

You expected him to be furious, and honestly you'd understand if he was. What you didn't expect, however, was him gently removing your hands and tenderly kissing away your tears.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, love." He assured, his hands massaging soothing circles on yours. "What's the matter? You don't want to continue?"

"I-I do, it's just..." You sniffled, blinking away tears and meeting his concerned gaze. "I'm...I'm embarrassed, Steven. It's just... Y-You know it's my first time, and you're doing amazing, it's just...I'm scared I'm not. I...have no idea what the fuck to do, and I'm not even pretty."

"That's not true." His voice was firm, jaw ticking resolutely. His brows furrowed, expression the most serious you've ever seen it. "You're bloody gorgeous, Y/N. I'm the git who doesn't know what the hell you see in me. And don't fret about being inexperienced, love. I'm so happy that you wanna be with me, and if you'd allow me, I wanna spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

You stayed silent, then your lips curved up into a dazzling smile that had Steven utterly weak in the knees. What the hell were you so anxious about, anyway? This was Steven Grant, the man of your wildest dreams. The man you loved.

"I love you, Steven."

Steven froze, tears prickling his eyes. Something between a sob and a chuckle escaped him, positively beaming down at you.

"I love you, too, Y/N."

He then parted your legs, hands quivering slightly. "I love you..." He crouched down, pressing his lips to your inner thigh. "...so fucking much." His tongue darted out, licking the beautiful stretch marks that lined the supple skin of your thighs.

His tongue slowly wandered up, up, up, and you were scarcely breathing once his face was in front of your cunt. His hot breath fanned against your clit; dark, nearly black eyes fixed on yours.

"Quand je vivais tendre et craintive amante..." He recited in French, smiling up at you. "...avec ses feux je peignais ses douleurs."

When I was a tender and fearful lover, with her fires I painted her pains.

You had noticed earlier the French poetry books stacked on Steven's desk, but goddammit you didn't expect he would quote one while he was right in front of your pussy.

You were sure this absolutely sexy menace of a man was trying to murder you.

His thumb then brushed against your clit, making you gasp. He grinned widely, pushing down on your nub as you whimpered and squirmed helplessly.

"Baby..." You begged, tears pouring down your pretty pink cheeks, and there must be something severely wrong with Steven to find it so enticing. "Pretty please... Fuck me with your mouth."

And how could he ever say no to that? He was merely a loyal, desperate slave for his goddess' wishes. For her love.

And so, like a parched man in the desert, he buried his face in your sopping pussy. You yelped, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the sudden--but very much not unwelcomed--intrusion into your deepest, most intimate part.

Steven's groan of appreciation vibrated within your gummy walls, inching ever so deeper, feeling his nose hit a bundle of nerves. Then his tongue licked a long, slow stripe along your mound and up to your clit. You cried out, a broken, pornographic song that echoed throughout Steven's entire flat.

"Gods..." His voice was low, trembling; one hand yet again wrapping around his aching cock, the flimsy fabric of your panties hugging the tip. "You've no idea how much I dreamt of this, Y/N. Waited for this." His other hand settled on your pussy, deft fingers running along your drenched folds. "Such a good girl, tastes so fucking good."

He puckered his lips, kissing your pussy. And the sounds that accompanied were downright filthy, Steven moaning shamelessly, loud squelches and the heady smell of your sex filling the air.

Slowly, carefully, he thrusted a finger inside of you. You keened, your thighs squishing Steven's head and your hands gripping onto his hair. He then added another finger, scissoring his digits and you knew right then and there that you were losing what's barely left of your fucking mind.

You grinded against him, and he bobbed his head zealously in perfect tandem with you. His tongue lapped up and down, up and down, before suddenly driving it inside your hole.

He was rubbing his cock vigorously, watching you, burning this marvelous moment for all eternity into his memories. And as soon as a third finger slipped in, you were fucking gone.

You screamed, finally reaching that peak and falling over it, seeing stars. You gushed around his mouth, and Steven noisily slurped it all up, not daring to leave behind a single drop.

He soon followed, grunting animalistically as his cum sprayed all over your panties. He collapsed against your pussy, in between the heavenly plushness of your thighs, panting raggedly.

Neither of you knew how long you both stayed like that, coming down from your high, until you sliced through the serene silence.

"Wow... Just...wow."

Steven chuckled breathlessly, looking up at you with your wetness glistening on his lips and chin. "Wow, indeed." He then leaned forward, and you gasped as his lips suckled on the skin right next to your clit, claiming you with a dark purple mark.

"You'll be the fucking death of me, Steven Grant." You groaned playfully, pulling on his hair.

He grinned, crawling over your body before moulding your lips together in a passionate liplock. His tongue entwined with yours and you could taste yourself, your brain short circuiting.

He slowly drew away, gently knocking his forehead against yours as his grin grew impossibly bigger.

"I'll make love to you at the Field of Reeds, then."

[cryptidwrestling]

I need to sleep. I am putting way too much thought and upset energy into a scripted sports soap opera 😂😭 Anyway

Some Of Cryptid's Current Thoughts And Feelings™ On The State Of Her RAW Faves

1) Liv Morgan's booking.

Ya'll. I'm a Rhea simp/stan and a person second, anyone who's been on my blog for more than thirty seconds knows this 😂 And I've also made it no secret I, for the most part, am actually still enjoying the Liv v Rhea feud. So all that being said, what the fuck is going on with Liv's booking.

I know she's a heel and part of a heel faction and in-ring bullshit is the name of the game, but the fact that neither of her title defenses have been won clean (granted, she didn't technically win the Bad Blood one anyway but whatever we all know that ending was botched and she was supposed to technically win) and 9/10 times she runs from Rhea when confronted. They're making the Women's Champ look weak.

Liv can be cunning and vicious, we've all seen it; for fuck's one of my favorite theories that I'm willing to die on the hill of is Liv still just using Dominik as a pawn and is gonna drop him the moment she realizes he doesn't fit in with her plans anymore. Book the feral Liv if they're gonna keep this storyline going.

2) Finn v Damian

I mentioned this in a another post but I feel like the reason they weren't pushed as hard is because they didn't want to risk something forshadowing the PunkIntyre feud...And if that's the case, they shouldn't have had Finn turn yet. With this theory in mind, and tbh even if NOT true this would have still worked, the tldr in my head is

-Dom's turn should have been the same

-Have Finn, and the rest of the JD stick around and the rivalries be Dom v Damian and still Rhea v Liv

-Bad Blood rolls around, Dom and Damian have a match, and Finn's turn comes in the form of him and the JD assisting Dom.

-The Finn v Damian feud kicks off the same night Punk v Drew ends

There was NO REASON to have Finn turn and to wait this long to really start doing something with it. I still standby my opinion if done right, this rivalry could still be AMAZING...But it doesn't change the fact it has lost a LOT of momentum going the way it has.

3) Rhea Currently Standing Alone

To a degree, I get it. Her and Damian agreed to do their own thing because he's done with the JD (as far as he thinks.) and they're in different divisons but he would/will always come if Rhea called. I'm not a fan of how fast they split them up as a team-again, wave two of the Terror Twins shirts had barely shipped when this happened-but this segement was okay. It was sweet and mutual.

THAT SAID.

Rhea is currently in a 2v1 (not counting Dom cause I have little hopes of us ever getting a sanctioned match with them cause ✨intergender✨🙄) rivalry. Liv has Raquel...Who the fuck does Rhea have? Tiffy? Maybe, but we can't even say that for certain because as it sits right now, they're on different shows. Show borders are just currently being blurred in, assumingly, prep for Survivor Series.

Why the fuck does Rhea currently have to stand alone.

4) Jhea

THIS KINDA PIGGYBACKS OFF MY LAST PARAGRAPH AND IS THE ONE I REALLY DON'T GET??? Okay, yes, it was probably supposed to be something cute and just for fun to fill time while the other main storylines Rhea and Jey are/were in moved along. But if that was the case, why did ya'll move it to the main stage and not just keep it in backstage segments? Rhea during a preshow interview, I think it was Bad Blood?, said Jey showed her what a real man was like. Not to mention Jey coming to Rhea and Damian's defense or Jey agreeing to tag with Damian cause he "can't say no to Rhea." Why the fuck would you plant seeds like that on screen, on the main stage, and then just??? Drop it??? I don't get it???

5) JEY MOTHERFUCKING USO'S 28 DAY REIGN

I'm gonna make this one short and sweet cause you can literally see all my posts directly below this word vomit and see how mad I am 😅 But, in short; Why. Why not wait until after he's done with the Bloodline to give him a title? Why not have this same set up but give him the title ages ago. Give him a decent title reign with the same ending. Predictable at that point sure, but okay...What is the fucking point of having him, a fan favorite who everyone was cheering the house down the night he won, get his first solo title ever after fourteen years...Only to give it back to Bron less than a month later?

Bron is a GREAT preformer, do not get me wrong but making this...I don't want to say newcomer, but newer star a two time champ in his lesser time with the WWE just doesn't sit right with me.

I know Jey was gonna get involved with the Bloodline story at some point. I know it would have been hard to impossible to book him in a Smackdown story as a RAW champ...They could have done in without stripping his first non-tag title from him in under a month. We could have gotten crashout Jey going after Solo and Co without what we got tonight.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, Chapter 1

Pairing: Platonic Steven Grant x Reader (for now)

Rating: T

Word count: ~3150

Story Summary: Steven meets a beautiful woman in the Egyptian exhibit at the British Museum...

...Too bad she's his new boss.

Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent since Steven still works for the British Museum post-canon, No Jake Lockley, developing friendship

A/N: Welcome to the start of my first Steven Grant story! This will be multiple chapters (not exactly sure how many, although I don't expect it to get too long.)

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this (or any of my other writing), please let me know!

Title from the song of the same name by The Police.

Steven Grant whistled cheerfully to himself as he ascended the steps of the British Museum. He had managed to successfully translate the hieroglyphic code he had been working on for the past week, gotten a full night's rest, and had even caught the early bus to work.

He checked his watch. Eh, I've got a bit before I have to clock in. Might as well pop by the Egyptian exhibit to see if they changed the placard for Mekhet yet.

He headed over to the exhibit, sighing with disappointment when he noticed that the placard was still incorrect. It's been three months. The least they could do is place a temporary sign until a new, permanent one came in.

He was just about to go put his bag in his employee locker and clock in early when a woman walked up next to him and began reading the placard on the statue.

“You know, that's actually wrong,” Steven said.

The woman glanced over at him. “Excuse me?”

Steven placed her accent as American, but couldn't pinpoint the region. Must be on holiday. He pointed at the placard. “The placard. It says that this is Menhit when it's really Mekhit.”

The woman looked at the placard, then back at the statue. “Oh, is it really?”

Steven nodded. “Menhit was actually a solar goddess, representing the brow of Ra and depicted by a reclining lioness, while Mekhit was the goddess of war, which is why she's depicted as a roaring lioness.”

The woman smiled at Steven. “Well that makes sense.”

“She was also known as the ‘Eye of Ra’,” Steven continued, encouraged by her friendliness. “It was said that the Eye left Ra and transformed itself into a lioness, after which it was hunted down and returned by Onuris, then it transformed into Menhit, which explains the similar names. And there's also Mehit, with no k or n, who was associated with the moon and was also depicted as a reclining lioness, but with three sticks behind her.”

The woman chuckled. “Imagine someone in Ancient Egypt accidentally praying to the wrong god or goddess because of a spelling error. Like, ‘oops, sorry, I meant for Mut to help me, not Nut ’.”

Steven grinned. “I've been trying to get my bosses to fix it for months now, but honestly I shouldn't be surprised. Took them ages to correct the banner depicting the Ennead. Only seven of them were on there when there were supposed to be nine.”

The woman glanced over at the banner, which now included all nine of the Ennead. “Oh, so you work here?”

Steven nodded. “Oh, er, sorry, yeah. I'm not just some nutter chatting you up in the Egyptian exhibit, I promise.”

The woman laughed. “Well either way, you're very knowledgeable about Egyptian history.”

“Oh, I love history, especially ancient Egyptian history. I find it fascinating.” Steven bit his lip. “Is it alright if I show you my favorite exhibit? It's just right over there.”

The woman nodded. “Sure.”

Steven led her over to the statue of Hathor. “This is Hathor -- Egyptian goddess of music, joy, pleasure and love.”

The woman grinned. “I see why she's your favorite. She gets all the fun stuff.”

Steven chuckled. “She was also goddess of beauty and the protector of women, and she was considered one of the most powerful of all the gods and goddesses. Early cosmetics and mirrors were left at her temples as offerings.”

The woman smiled. “She sounds pretty amazing.”

Steven nodded. “Oh, she was. In fact, it's said she--”

“Oy! Stevie!”

Steven startled at the sound of Donna's voice. “Oh, bollocks,” he muttered. ‘I'm sorry, I've got to run.”

The woman nodded. “That's quite alright. It was nice meeting you… Stevie, was it?”

Steven shook his head. “Actually, it's Steven. With a ‘v'.”

“Nice meeting you, ‘Steven-with-a-v’.”

“You too.”

Steven tried to hurry away but was accosted by Donna, who immediately began to give him an earful. “How many times do I have to tell you, don't bother the visitors!” she hissed loudly. “The new museum director's coming in today and the last thing she needs to see is employees faffing about.”

“But I’m not -- wait, new director?” Steven vaguely remembered Donna mentioning a few weeks prior that the museum board had finally hired a new director. “Who is it?”

Donna shrugged. “I dunno, some poncy American. Anyway, as I've said before, you're not a bloody tour guide. Your job is to sell overpriced rubbish to whiny little brats and their caretakers. Now, I want the gift shop fully stocked and in tip-top shape by the time the new director arrives. You should've been doing that already instead of dawdling.”

Steven glanced back at the woman, who was now studying the hieroglyphics on one of the nearby sarcophagi. “But I'm not -- I was just --”

Donna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, flirt on your own time. Not like she'd be interested in the likes of you anyway, innit?”

“But I wasn't --” Steven sighed as Donna stalked off. “Okay then, good talk.”

He trudged over to the staff lounge area, stashed his messenger bag in his locker, and clocked in before heading to the gift shop.

He cringed when he saw the state of it. Clearly no one had bothered restocking after the gaggle of families and tour groups had blown through over the weekend. This'll take me all bloody day. Luckily Mondays are usually pretty quiet.

He quickly pinned his name tag to his shirt and began to straighten and organize the various plushies and knickknacks between customers, making note of what he needed to grab more of from the storage room.

He was organizing the Seshat figurines several hours later when Donna walked out of her office. “Oy, Stevie, the new boss lady wants a word with you upstairs.”

Steven swallowed nervously. “Me? What for?”

Donna shrugged, a slight smirk on her face. “You know, I heard that there was a bit of a shakeup coming with the new regime but I thought it'd at least be a few days before you got sacked. Guess not.”

Bollocks, Steven thought. Hopefully there's at least a decent severance package. “Okay. Well, off I go then.”

He set down the last figurine and headed out of the gift shop towards the lifts. “Maybe they'll at least let me finish my shift before they give me the boot,” he wondered aloud as he pressed the button to call the lift.

“Why are you so worried?” Marc replied in his head. “You don't even like this job.”

“I do like it,” Steven protested, catching Marc's face in the reflection of the shiny metal doors. “Well, sort of. And anyway, we can't afford our flat without it.”

Marc was quiet for a moment. “I got some money,” he finally said as the lift arrived. “From Dad, after Mom… Well anyway, I've never touched it so that should keep you afloat for a little while until you find another job.”

The ride up to the 5th floor was one of the longest of Steven's life. He stepped out of the lift, nervously trying to tame his wild curls but ultimately just making his hair more messed up. Oh, bollocks.

He walked down the hall to the door marked Director and knocked.

“Come in,” a voice said.

Steven took a deep breath and entered.

He froze. Standing behind the museum director's desk was the woman he had been talking to in the Egyptian exhibit before Donna had spotted him. “Oh, erm…” Just my bloody buggering luck.

The visitor from earlier (the new museum director, you bloody great twit, he corrected himself) smiled warmly. “Hello again, ‘Steven-with-a-v’.”

“Er, hello, Miss.” Steven could see his employee file open on the director's desk and began mentally going over their entire interaction from earlier, trying to figure out what exactly he had done in order to get sacked so quickly. He hadn't been on the clock at the time so it wasn't like he actually had been dawdling instead of working, and he hadn't really complained about his job beyond mentioning that the display placard for Mekhit was incorrect and about how long it took for the banner depicting the Ennead to be corrected.

The director motioned to the chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”

Steven sat as the director took her seat as well. 

The director folded her hands in front of her and placed them on her desk. “First of all,” she began, “apologies for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, and I'm the new director here at the museum. I'm sure you're wondering why I've called you to my office, especially so soon after starting my tenure here.”

“Er, yes ma'am,” Steven replied nervously, glancing up at the framed Ph.D hanging on the wall before once again looking at his open employment record.

Dr. Y/L/N slid Steven's file over to her and studied it for a moment. “You work in the gift shop, is that correct?”

Bollocks, here it comes. “Yes, ma'am.”

“You've never had any interest in becoming a tour guide, have you?”

“I'm sorry, ma’am, I wasn't trying to --” Steven blinked rapidly as her words registered. “Wait, what?”

Dr. Y/L/N looked up from his file. “Tour guide. You ever thought about it?”

Steven nodded. “All the time, actually. It's what I dream of doing.”

“Then why haven't you ever applied for an open tour guide position?”

Because Donna keeps telling me that there's no way it would ever happen, so why bother? “Well I, er…”

Dr. Y/L/N leaned back in her chair. “We actually have a current opening for the Visitor Engagement Specialist position… if you're interested, that is.”

Steven was speechless. “Visitor Engagement Specialist? But that's -- that's the head of programming and tours.”

Dr. Y/L/N nodded. “Yes, that's right. I'd like to offer you the position.”

She gestured towards his employee file. “I've read over your CV, Steven, and you're more than qualified.”

Steven was still processing. What the bloody hell is happening? 

Sounds like you're not getting fired, Marc answered. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Steven shook his head. “Even if I applied for the position, wouldn't I need to interview for it as well?”

Dr. Y/L/N’s lips turned up in a small smile. “Oh, but you already have.” 

Steven’s brow furrowed. “I have?” 

Dr. Y/L/N nodded. “The museum’s visitor numbers have been declining lately, so over the weekend I took a few tours to see how they could be improved, and to be quite honest I learned more from speaking to you for 10 minutes in the Egyptian exhibit than from taking 3 separate hour-long tours throughout the entire museum. You certainly had me enraptured during our conversation about Mekhit and Hathor this morning.”

She gave Steven a warm smile. “I would consider that enough of an interview to offer you the position, wouldn't you?”

Steven huffed out a nervous chuckle. “I -- I suppose so, ma’am.”

“The current tours are stale and boring,” Dr. Y/L/N continued. “And the guides themselves could use some, well, guidance  from someone with your knowledge of and enthusiasm for history and folklore. I think you could plan some wonderfully engaging tours.”

Steven rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I do have some ideas on how the current tours could be improved… So, er, what exactly does the position entail?”

“You'd work closely with the Curatorial department to develop programming and tours based on what we have on exhibit at the time while concurrently managing the Programming department. Of course, that would include being on the regular tour rotation as well as handling any specialized tours -- large groups, VIP guests, and the like. I know it would be a lot of work, but the position also comes with your own office as well as a sizable increase in pay.” Dr. Y/L/N quoted a figure that was more than double what Steven currently made. “Plus benefits.”

Steven’s eyes widened. With that sort of salary he could afford a bigger flat closer to the museum. “That's -- that's quite generous. I don't know what to say.”

Dr. Y/L/N nodded. “I know this is probably a bit of a shock, so feel free to take some time to think about it. Think you could give me an answer by the beginning of next week?”

What's there to think about? Marc chided him. You're being handed your dream job on a silver platter. Say you'll take it, dumbass.

Steven ignored Marc. “Yes, ma'am.”

Dr. Y/L/N closed Steven's file. “By the way, I put in an order for a new placard for the Mekhit exhibit. Thought you'd like to know.”

Steven grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“And one other thing…” Dr. Y/L/N paused briefly. “Does your current supervisor often speak to you the way she did this morning?”

Steven was taken aback. “Donna? Well, actually, er… well, she's a bit prickly, yes.”

“I see. And have you reported her behavior to anyone?”

Steven shook his head. “No, ma'am. Don't want to cause a scene or make things worse.”

“Mmm. Well, this 'poncy American' is going to have a private chat with her later on the way we treat our subordinates… and refer to our superiors.”

Marc chuckled. I think I'm in love.

Yeah, me too, Steven replied. Too bad she's my boss.

He really hadn't been flirting with Dr. Y/L/N earlier, although if Steven had been more confident he might have actually considered it. As it was, however, he was glad he hadn't. Most likely would've gotten sacked in that case.

Dr. Y/L/N stood. “Alright, Steven, thank you for coming in. Please let me know as soon as possible what your decision on the Visitor Engagement Specialist position is.”

Steven stood as well. “I will, ma'am. And no matter what I decide, thank you either way for the opportunity.”

“You're welcome. And thank you for such a stimulating conversation this morning. I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

Steven smiled. “I did too.”

He headed back down to the gift shop, where Donna was standing behind the register reading a book.

She looked up as Steven approached the counter. “What, still here? Figured you'd have cleared out your locker by now.”

Steven shook his head. “The new director just wanted to introduce herself and speak with me about something. Guess she's doing that with everyone.”

Donna rolled her eyes. “In that case, when you get done with restocking there's a new shipment of items that need to be unpacked and sorted.”

As if she couldn't have been working on all that shit herself while you were gone, Marc said as Donna headed back towards her office. Would you seriously rather be stuck with that than be the head of tours and programs? You know she's just going to make things more difficult after she gets reprimanded this afternoon.

Steven sighed. Yeah, I know.

Being a tour guide is exactly what you've been wanting to do since the day you started, and being the head of the entire department? Just think… you'd actually be in a higher position than Donna. Wouldn't you like to rub that in her face?

Steven chuckled to himself as he thought about Donna having to answer to him for a change. Yeah, actually, I quite like the thought of that.

Then what are you waiting for? 

You know what? You're right. Steven straightened. I deserve this position.

Damn right you do. Ever since we figured out how to work together you've been able to hold down your job just fine and haven't even been late once. You'll be great.

Steven moved over to the phone and pulled up the staff directory before dialing Dr. Y/L/N's extension.

“Yes, may I help you?” Dr. Y/L/N's voice said briskly over the line.

“Er, uh, Dr. Y/L/N, this is Steven… Steven Grant, from the gift shop?” Steven stammered out, suddenly losing his bravado.

Dr. Y/L/N's tone warmed immediately. “Yes, Steven, what can I do for you?”

Steven took a deep breath. “I've decided I don't need the week to think about your offer. I accept.”

“Wonderful!” Dr. Y/L/N sounded pleased. “I'll have HR start on the transfer paperwork right away so we can have you in your new position by next Monday. There's a couple of new Egyptian artifacts on loan from the Cairo Museum arriving on Thursday afternoon and we're wanting to have them installed by the beginning of next month, so hopefully we can have you settled and able to rework the tour to include them by then.”

Steven nodded even though he knew she couldn't see him. “That shouldn't be a problem. Thank you again for this opportunity, Dr. Y/L/N. I really appreciate it.” 

“You're welcome, Steven. I honestly think you'll thrive in your new position and I'm glad you accepted it.”

“Me too.”

“The museum board is introducing me to some benefactors in ten minutes so I'm afraid I've got to run in a few, but I'm looking forward to hearing your ideas on how to improve the current tours. Maybe we can talk more on Friday? I'll be meeting with the Curatorial department that morning to discuss placement of the new artifacts.” Dr. Y/L/N paused. “You know, actually, now that I think about it since you're going to be involved with that anyway I'd like you to sit in on that meeting as well, even if it's just to observe and check out the new artifacts for yourself.”

“Certainly, ma'am.”

“Ok, great. I'll let Donna know that I've scheduled another meeting with you and that your shift needs to be covered on Friday. What's your current schedule looking like for next week?”

Steven rolled his eyes, grateful that Dr. Y/L/N couldn't actually see him. “Donna has me doing inventory all next week.”

Dr. Y/L/N hummed. “Ok, well then it shouldn't be a problem to find someone else to cover that.”

“No, ma'am.”

“I'll see you Friday morning, then. Goodbye, Steven.”

“Goodbye.”

Steven hung up the phone. “Wow,” he said under his breath. “Wow, wow, wowee wow.”

Marc chuckled in his head. You've hit the big-time now.

“I get my own office. I get my own phone extension.” Steven's eyes widened. “I get my own business cards. ‘Steven Grant, Visitor Engagement Specialist’.”

Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

Steven nodded. “I still can't believe it.”

Believe it, buddy. Life is looking up.

Steven grinned. "It is, isn't it?"

He knew one thing for certain -- he couldn't wait to prove to Dr. Y/L/N that she had made the right decision.

[deliciousangelfestival]

How To Deal With Satanic Relatives - Lloyd Hansen Series

Character: Lloyd Hansen x Rich!Female Reader

Summary: After discovering the truth about your parents, you became more ambitious to get back at your so-called relative. 

Warning: Tortured scenes, harsh language, 18+.

Words Count: 3,200,-

This is a series. Check out Part 1 and Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Extra Story

Series Masterlist.

Also, my MASTERLIST.

Author Notes: Part 3 finally arrived !!! Thank you for the incredible feedback from the previous post. 

And I didn't give names to her relatives. I used 1st uncle, 2nd uncle, 3rd aunt, etc. Cause our readers to have a big family tree. 

Don't be shy if you want to be tagged in the series and for the next part. 😄💕

Reblog, comments and any feedback are appreciated.

Any idea for the story will significantly help me get more inspiration. 

After knowing the truth about your parents' accidents, your mind went blank. You didn't hear when Lloyd or Jimmy called your name. 

You went to the garden near the fountain. Only the sound of water could calm you. 

You sat down on the side of the fountain. You looked up to the sky and sighed. 

To be honest, you don’t see your cousins as a threat.

Even now, it hurts you, knowing someone related to you by blood, desperately wanting you dead. 

From the outside, they made their image as philanthropy and a saint.

What’s the point of them going to church every Sunday if they want to kill their niece? 

Are they asking for forgiveness for sending assassins to kill their niece or praying to God to take away their life?

While you were alone, Jimmy and Lloyd looked at you from the second-floor terrace. 

From afar, Jimmy could feel your sadness; he sighed, "It hurts her. Deep down, she hoped they could change."

“Do you want to tell me why they gave me a deadline  to kill her before Wednesday at 1pm?"

Jimmy clicked his tongue. "Next week, there's an important meeting with the shareholders. If Y/N attends the meeting, her position will be secured."

“Didn’t her grandfather choose her?”

“Yes. But there’s a flaw. She only granted the name CEO. Her job is only as a spokesperson or the face of the company. She couldn’t make a decision or take part in a meeting.”

"The truth behind the former chairman's will is there's no free food. He wants Y/N to work hard to earn everyone's trust."

“That's why the meeting on Wednesday is critical. Y/N will present new projects that are worth around 500 billion dollars.”

Lloyd almost choked on his breath. 500 billion?! He starts to feel lucky to have you as his wife. 

"It's supposed to be a secret but her relatives found out and they want to steal the project from her. If she attends the meeting along with the presentation, her position as CEO is not just a name.”

Lloyd chuckled. "I have got to say her family is more complicated than any mission that I ever had.”

"Well, you’re part of it now. And you fit perfectly."

Lloyd was silent; he didn't deny it after signing the contract. He wondered what happened when a lunatic met with greedy people. 

Jimmy noticed Lloyd kept looking in your direction. "Go to her."

When he finds you, you look paralysed. You didn't even show any reaction when he sat beside you. 

There was a moment of silence until he heard you say, “I bet they are happy right now if I'm dead.”

"Hmm."

He doesn't want to tell you, but they are. Since you look like a corpse, he thinks it's too much for you to handle.

At the Tech room after you left.

When you were alone, Lloyd ordered the Tech team to hack your cousin's phone and listened to their conversation.

Your cousin is in France right now at a ski resort. Celebrating your death. 

"Finally, she's dead."

"Our prayer has been answered."

From the speaker, they sound joyful, laughing, and singing. 

One soldier couldn't believe there was a family like that. "Boss, from the satellite the snow is quite thick. If there's an avalanche, no one will suspects anything."

Another soldier said, "Our assets in France has a lot of TNT."

Lloyd smiled. "That will do. Bonus for you both."

*Sniffed* "My mother just donated money to the church cause she's too happy." *Sniffed*

Lloyd shot the speaker; he couldn't continue the conversation. 

"The one who snorted the cocaine just now is a police officer."

Lloyd smiled, "Anyone who got their deepest secrets will get a bonus this year."

"Yes, boss!!!"

Lloyd was surprised to see his employees become excited. "Wow, anyone became excited because of money."

'Like you don't?!'

“I thought maybe they would change because blood is thicker than water. But to my family, money is number one.”

Lloyd doesn't understand why he became sentimental when he saw you sad like this, perhaps because of his new title as your husband. You became his responsibility, and he wants to help you. 

He grabs your chins "You’re not alone. Did you forget you got yourself a husband? You didn’t have to endure it by yourself.” Lloyd was into his role as a husband and then laughed like a naughty child. 

The sad atmosphere faded away because of him. Your stress finally calmed down. 

You slipped a small laugh "Pfft."

"Something funny?"

You nodded. "Being encouraged by a contract killer like you is far more effective than talking to my psychiatrist."

Lloyd liked it when he heard your laugh. So this is what it looks like when you don't carry a burden. 

"Now that you look alive again, we need to go inside since we have a little time before Wednesday."

You walked out of the maze together; you didn't bother telling Lloyd to release his hand holding yours. 

"If we do this plan, your company name could be ruined"

"Well at least I still have a husband. He just made a deal worth 3 billion."

Lloyd smirked at your answers, "That's right, and he's willing to kill for her."

Yup. You choose a perfect man.

Wednesday 

At the L/N Office Headquarters 

Inside the conference room, every shareholder was busy discussing where Y/N was. Some of them prefer your relatives, and some of them are on your side. 

"Where is she? I called her phone and her secretary doesn't even know where she is."

"If the rumor were true, she died because of a car accident, her oldest uncle will replace her."

"If he becomes the CEO, I will sell my share."

"Everyone, the meeting will start in a minute. Please take a sit with your name on it."

After every guest was seated, two people stood from their chairs and walked up to the stage.

Both of them are the eldest child of the chairman. And the 2nd son, who became a priest after his business failed. 

Under the bright light, they could see 1st uncle and 2nd uncle looked like they were grieving. It seems like the rumour is true. Their niece Y/N got into an accident. 

1st Uncle stood at the podium, his face moving closer to the microphone. "I have to say thank you to anyone who attended the meeting. But I have sad news that I need to share."

He took a deep breath and said, "Our dear niece Y/N L/N got into an accident two days ago."

He grabs a handkerchief from his chest pocket to wipe his fake tears and hide his smile. 

Like his brother, 2nd uncle also clenches his fist to hold his laugh, and their sister, who sits, also acts their crocodile tears. 

People on your team couldn't accept the news because they trusted you. 

"That's a lie!!!"

1st uncle sighed. "I know it's hard to accept, but we must move on."

To silence the noisy guest, 1st uncle waved at his brother to speak in front of the microphone.

2nd uncle sighed. "It's unbearable, but I'm glad everyone here cares for our niece. Let's take a moment to pray for her."

Their strategy worked because everyone inside the room became quiet.

"Heavenly Father, we ask for your mercy and grace for Y/N’s soul as they begin their journey into eternity. Please bring them into your loving arms and grant them peace and rest. We also pray that those left behind will find comfort and hope in your presence and the promise of eternal life. 

At this moment, we also pray for my dear brother who will replace our niece as the company's new leader. Heavenly Father,-"

A sudden female voice interrupted his prayers. "I have decided to hand such a person over to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, in order that his spirit may be saved on the day of the Lord." 

That voice made everyone shiver because they knew who the voice's owner was.

2nd uncle opened his eyes and looked at the door. Not just him but everyone was shocked looking at you standing and alive. 

"I'm not surprised anymore, you guys pray for my death."

"Y/N!!!"

Your 3rd aunty was quick and clapped her hands. "It's a miracle. The French police told us they couldn't find your body."

You didn't say anything to her and walked to the stage, making Benjamin, whose knees were weak, fall. 

You looked down at him with a mocking smile. "What is it, uncle? It felt like you see a ghost."

"All of you should go before you embarrass yourself."

1st uncle dragged his brother and left the conference room. Your aunties also followed him. 

Every guest was silent, but they knew what had happened in the family. 

You spoke through the microphone, "I'm sorry for being late. I will cut to the chase. Everyone may check their phones to read the proposal documents. The project is worth 500 billion dollars."

You did the presentation as short and straightforward. After you finished the slides, you were worried because it was just silence. But then you could hear them clap their hands. 

You bowed your head to hide your tears. Finally, after four years, you got the approval. 

After the successful meeting, you walked out of the company building. There's Lloyd, who's waiting in his black van. 

"Congrats, CEO Y/N."

You smiled and sat beside him. "Everything's ready?"

"They're waiting for you, sunshine."

When your relatives leave the conference room somewhere at the warehouse, Lloyd and his team kidnap them to an empty warehouse big enough for three aeroplanes.

“Where are we?” 3rd aunt woke up from her nap and saw her siblings tied to the chair. And there's a group of men with a gun standing behind them. 

“Remember the failed project that your son operated?” Your voice echoes inside the warehouse. 

“This is the land. It’s perfect for a satellite city but because of your son's stupidity… What a shame.”

Your relative turned their head and saw you walking with a man they'd never seen before. Except for your first uncle, he knew who it was. 

"Shit…we are fucked."

4th aunt asked, "Who is he?"

1st uncle whispered, "The guy that I hired to kill her." 

5th aunt screamed "Y/N you bitch!!! Let us go!!!"

'BANG'

"AARGH!! Why me? I didn't say anything." 6th aunt screamed because the bullet hit her leg. 

Lloyd put down the gun. "No one talks rudely to my wife."

"What?! You're married? With him? And without any ceremonies?" 3rd aunt was in disbelief. 

Lloyd was offended, but you spoke first. “I’m disgusted with your concern. FYI, I felt safer with him rather than with you. In your eyes, I’m just a fly that you wait to kill.”

7th aunt tried to be sweet towards you. “Y/N that I know won’t be this cruel.” She never talks to you with respect; this is the first time she's been nice.

You smiled and leaned down. “Aunty, that old Y/N is dead. And this Y/N is out of patience with all of you.”

1st uncle clicked his tongue. "So what now? You're going to kill us ?"

You looked at him for a minute and nodded.

"You ungrateful dog!!!"

'BANG!'

"Fuck!!!" 1st, uncle screamed because of the pain in the shoulder he had never felt before. 

"Once again, whoever disrespects my wife will get shot in the head."

You whispered thank you to Lloyd, which made him bow to you.

You sit on the chair facing your relatives. "Here's a thing about grandfather's will. He left me another note.

He wrote, "If Y/N  got the approval from shareholders, she's free to do whatever she wants like get rid of the rotten part of the company."

You raised a pointed finger to them. "Do you understand what he meant? The rotten part is you, my dear aunties and uncles."

Your relatives were hurt when they heard that, even after their father's death, he was able to hurt their feelings.

"Grandfather knew from the beginning that you did not fit in the company. He built this company with sweat, tears, and blood. All of you except my father did a terrible job.”

There was silence until the 7th aunt laughed like a maniac. She said, “Father blames mother for giving birth to stupid kids.”

“While his illegitimate child is the smartest one."

You didn't show any reaction, but inside, you were shocked. 

“You didn’t know, did you?”

No way, you didn’t know this fact.

You know your grandma always gave a side-eye towards you and your parents every time you visited.

You always wondered why she never invited you to her tea time. She asked all her grandchildren except you. 

You never spend time with your grandmother because you are always busy with the tutor. 

Your grandfather's house was big, but you felt suffocated. That's why you choose to study abroad. You felt free. 

After your grandmother died, you don't mind studying at Harvard. When she died, she didn't leave you anything. While others got jewellery, a plot of land, her yacht and her villas. 

You don't care cause your grandmother says hurtful things about your mother cause she's not from a wealthy family. 

So all of this is because they are jealous. 

“That’s why we hated you. If he gave you 5% of his fortune, we don’t mind. But you, who is not 100% related to us, got all his wealth?” He scoffed. “It’s not fair.”

“That’s why you killed my parents?”

"Your father acts like he doesn’t want to, but he accepts the offer. Your mother, I hated that smudged face when she found out she won.”

Your relatives were waiting for your reaction since you put your head down.

“Thank you for telling me.” 

You start to walk away from them. “Now I have no regrets about making your life miserable.”

1st uncle gritted his teeth, "Our children will get you, Y/N."

"Ah, do you want to know where your kids are?”

You snapped your fingers, and a few people appeared to set the projectors. 

The projectors show the news of an avalanche at the ski resorts.

Ten victims and still counting, and many people are digging in the snow to find other victims.

7th aunt had a cold sweat because she recognised the place. Her fears become a reality when she sees someone being pulled out from the snow.

“Alex?”

“Christopher?”

That’s when they knew their kids were buried under the snow. They screamed in agony. 

While you look unbothered, “They got into an accident. Just like my parents."

"Fucking bitch."

'BANG!'

Before you know who got shot, your eyes are covered with someone's hand. You knew who the owner was because his moustache tickled your neck.

"I think it's enough. You shouldn't see what happened next."

"But…"

"Shh…shhh… let your husband do the dirty work." He still covers your eyes with his hand and brings you to Jimmy. 

"Don't let her hear anything." Jimmy nodded and got you outside, far from the warehouse.

After Lloyd was sure, you had left. He snapped his fingers, and immediately his soldiers got into their positions. While others dragged the 7th aunt's body.

1st uncle wasn't ready to watch his youngest siblings get shot between her eyes.

"You crazy bastards. You're supposed to kill her, I already sent you the money."

"Ooh, that one." Lloyd opened a briefcase and showed them, "Here's the money, along with the penalty."

"Don't tell me,-"

Lloyd nodded. "Yup. You niece offered more money, and she's right. She's worth more than 40 million dollars."

"We could give you more money."

Lloyd shook his head and grabbed the screen tablets. "You have no more money. And it's nice to be the good guy for once. Usually I become the executioner."

He stands before the 1st uncle and reads the file, "You really don't give a shit with poor people do you? The collapsed factory and buried hundreds of workers?"

"It's not my fault."

"Yes, it was your sign who gave the permission to build with low quality material."

2nd uncle "You use the church money that supposed to widows and orphanage and gave it to your son who addicted to gambling."

3rd aunt "You stole the insurance money that was worth 1.5 billion dollars. And made a fake charity for breast cancer patients."

4th, 5th aunt "Wow, two of you made a fake investment, killed your in-laws and stole their assets."

6th aunt "And the last one, the most evil one. You tortured your maid because you thought she stole your pearl earring. Turns out, it was you who forgot. Always blame someone for your mistakes. And to make it worst, you and your two sons like to torture animals. Gosh, you guys are disgusting."

Lloyd shook his head. "Y/N were right, you are far worst than devil." His hand grab pincers from his pants pocket. 

Other soldiers also follow his suits. Each of them stands in front of the elders. 

Lloyd holds the 3rd aunt's fingers. She was scared, but screaming was useless because their mouths were taped. 

"I always hate long nails." 

He pulled one nail that made the 3rd aunt cry, "Mmrghh!!!" 

Lloyd looked at his soldiers. "Pull the nails slowly to make them remember the pain." 

"Yes boss!!!"

A few hours later, Lloyd came out from the warehouse. He wiped his hands from the blood. Then he walked to the black van and knocked on the window. 

The car door slid open, and Lloyd jumped to sit beside you. He saw you were busy typing, "What are you doing?"

"Decorated a retired home for them. Since prison can't hold them."

And here he was, worried, so he went to check on you. Lloyd was amazed that you are not affected knowing your half relatives were tortured. 

He shook his head with disbelief. "You're one in a billion Y/N."

"That's right."

Few days later, 

After the fiasco with your aunt and uncles, you had a peaceful day. You finally could go back to your own home. 

But Lloyd told you to buy a house together to make it more believable that both of you are husband and wife. 

You agreed since your old home is the most valuable thing because of the memories you had with your parents. 

Everything is going well. You also felt more comfortable with Lloyd.

Lloyd went to the company with you. Because of the contract, he needs to follow you everywhere you go. 

He is okay with it since he was curious about your work. 

But you hoped he would just stay at home or something like that. Because he won't stop whining. 

"Honey, I'm bored." Lloyd rests his body on the chair inside your office.

You didn't bother to look at him because you were busy signing some documents.

"I'll be done in a minute. After this we have to visit construction sites."

"Urrgh." Lloyd rolled his eyes and continued playing with his phone. 

You chuckled, seeing him being childish. Office life doesn't suit him.

"You are very welcome to help me."

He shook his head. "Do you have other relatives you want me to kill?"

"No."

He sighed, "I need more action, I don't want to be a house husband."

"Lloyd you are not,-"

"Y/N!!!"

Suddenly a man barged into your office and hugged you. Lloyd immediately stood in his position and held his gun.

But what he saw was the mystery guest hugging you.

"Excuse me wife, are you cheating on me?"

"What?! No…"

You were confused like him. Lloyd pushed the uninvited guest away, making the person fall to the ground. He pulled you close to his side. 

After you take a breath, you finally recognise who it is. Blonde, tall, with broad shoulders, has cute dimples every time he smiles and is the man who broke your heart.

You cleared your throat "Lloyd, let me introduce you. Ethan… my ex-fiance."

Lloyd wasn't surprised anymore. He whispered in your ear, "Should I kill him?"

Author note: Finally, our reader is free from her family. But what happened next? See you in part 4. 😘💕

Tell me if you want to be tagged for this series and the next part. Also, if you have any ideas like fluff or spicy for the next part. I will welcome any ideas. It will be such a tremendous help to me. 

Taglist : @jasminxts @alchemxx @imsolatetothegame @thorinmistress @bree-lyrie @another-tblr-fangirl @buckysteveloki-me @motivation-idontknowher @cherrybubblebullet @supraveng @avery-1999 @evansce1 @ridingthehotmessexpress @hoely-maria @katymae12344 @g-c-e @rookiemartin @my-regrets @chibijusstuff @openup-yourmind @ara-theo @rebeccapineapple

[mywitchcultblr]

This dlc doesn't have any cut content, it has been proven by dataminers. It was in the works for 2 years. Godwin was never supposed to be in it. You are just salty because your headcanon was wrong and you are just throwing a tantrum. You can dislike it, but you can't say that the final part was badly written because now a surprising (for Fromsoftware) loose end has been tied. Stop being a child. You are still ensnared by Miquella's charm.

Godwyn was not supposed to be on it? Right and what about all the hints in the base game, what about the statue of him hugging Miquella and Malenia? What about Miquella age of abundance? The cut content where Malenia said

Sweet Tarnished… Dearest companion… Did you not heed my warning? Your greed knows no end. You would steal the last drop of warmth from his empty frame? After all you’ve taken, you still want more? Then you will have to kill me. I am Malenia, Sword of Miquella. And I have never known defeat. My dear twin, accept this gift. A gift of abundance, my last drop of dew. Let all things flourish, whether graceful, or malign.

What about when Miquella saying, begging for his Lord brother to be granted a 'true death' you think that supposed to be Radahn? Where its all pointing tho a guy who is half dead half alive? Soul gone but body is still growing and infecting the Lands Between with blight?

Its Godwyn. Nobody sees Radahn coming, and there's NO way he should be there. Mohg would make more sense to be in SOTE than Radahn (and not as a corpse). There's no way retcon doesnt happen

I DONT CARE, I CAN BE A HATER AS I LIKE. FROMSOFT IS NOT PERFECT, Call me a child as you like, but at least i'm not defending a corporation. I PAID 1 MILLION combined on STEAM for both the base game and the DLC, I can 'throw a tantrum' as I like

Call me 'charmed' as you like but at least I'm not blind enough to defend shitty writing when I see it or defend a corporation

Look at how much it costed in my currency. I CAN BE A HATER IF I DONT LIKE SOMETHING THAT I PAID 1/4 of my salary