#Dawn at any given moment is at risk to get lost in their eyes and then realizes he's supposed to focus on the mission

[dualnaturedscientist]

Matthew flinched ever so slightly when the woman tried to take a step towards him. His glare remained steely and cold towards Evangeline. She stopped in her tracks before going any further, noticing the reaction that many would've easily missed. It dawned on Evangeline. Matthew was afraid of her. He reacted to her as if she were a threat to him. Their training was still ingrained into him. Guilt and shame filled her. "Cruelty from life. That's what happened to me, Evangeline. I don't understand. How is this possible? You should be dead by now. Or at least quite elderly." Her eyes widened as the goal previously in mind had been temporarily forgotten. The woman needed to save the others. Evangeline couldn't help but feel torn. Wanting to find out more about the changes in this city that she once knew so well. Wanting to know exactly what happened to Matthew after she was trapped in one of those horrible tubes. "Can't speak right now. They're waiting for me. They need to be saved. I need to find them!" The urgency in her tone made Matthew even more alarmed. She muttered to herself. "What happened to Hope City." The former supervillain frowned at that. "It's no longer Hope City. It's known as Fair City. What do you mean by others? Save who?" Fair City? She could only guess as to why the name of the city changed like that. Evangeline shook her head furiously. "You will but get involved. Not with this." With that said, the woman was about to take off on Matthew but was promptly stopped by him. He had taken hold of her wrist and gripped at it tightly. "You aren't going to show up out of nowhere and leave. I won't allow you to hurt me. Nor will I allow you to hurt my family." That made Evangeline pause for a moment. Family? He had a family? "No, no! I need to rescue the others! I'm not going to hurt anyone! Please, Matthew. Release me and allow me to do that." The longer he had held onto her, the more desperate and pleading she began to be. Matthew couldn't find it in himself to trust her. Why should he trust her? He owed her nothing. Not even an explanation like he's given her. Just as Matthew was going to question Evangeline more about what she was talking about, a voice called out. "Matthew? Buddy? Who's your friend there?" It was Frank. He had come back with his own snacks. Matthew long abandoned trying to gather some for himself. The heroine used this to her advantage. Evangeline twisted and yanked her arm away from his, gaining her freedom back. She didn't waste any time flying off before Matthew could grab ahold of her once more. He could only watch as she flew off gracefully down the street. Meanwhile, back at the house. Gene was still calming himself from that argument. Wiping away his frustrated and upset tears. If they had lost Alex and Alan already. There was no way in hell he would let Tristan get himself kidnapped by this mysterious foe of theirs. Becky needed Tristan in her life more than ever. Gene wanted to find a better way to bring Alex and his brother-in-law back home safely. Guaranteed that they'll see them all again. If Gene was going to be honest, as soon as Alex returns home to them safely. They won't let him out of their sight this time. He felt slight guilt, knowing that Hugh was no doubt missing Alan. He was either alone in his apartment or scouring the city for any sign of his boyfriend and Alex. Yet they were not successful in their endeavors. Gene paced around his room, hoping that Tristan would actually listen to him. The former villain dreaded going back downstairs to find Tristan missing. They needed to ensure no one else would go missing. Making sure they're returned safely. He was still agitated by the reckless plan his husband tried to reason with him with. After a few more minutes, Gene was finally calm enough to go back downstairs to speak in a civilized manner. He didn't want to risk upsetting his daughter again so soon. Gene went back downstairs to Tristan and his father. He was relieved to see him and Carl still there, having a discussion. “Oh thank goodness.” Gene stated aloud.

@ninjastormhawkkat

"Hold on a minute, some weird guy is staring at me. Probably some bum trying to get change off of me." Comments like that had ensured he would absolutely be relieved of guilt for what was to happen next. A smile spreads across the figure's facial features, revealing inhumanly sharp teeth glinting in the street lights. A hand quickly shot out, taking a hold of the rather obnoxious man. "What the hell are you doing-" A scream soon pierced the quietness of the night. It quickly became a horrendous gurgling noise. The cellphone in the man's hand had fallen in the process. Leaving the person on the other end to become worried and confused about what was happening to the man. It didn't take very long for the man to become completely still. The figure allows him to finally fall to the cement below, licking at his blood stained lips in satisfaction. "The night, it is still so young. I don't think I shall waste another minute on you." Like a ghost in the night, he had vanished. As if he were never there. Leaving only the grotesque mess he had made for others to find. Unknown to him, there was a witness to this who had seen the whole thing. Watching in complete and utter fear. The figure grinned, it was as if he were seeing the world through different eyes. The opportunities that awaited him. It sent a shiver of excitement up his spine. His thirst might have satiated but he wasn't satisfied with only that. Oh no. There was so much more he had in mind for this city. Just wait till morning until they discover his little surprise for all to see. It wasn't until hours later did he finally return to the house. Feeling pleased with himself. Carl shot up in bed, heart racing so fast within his chest. Calming down once realizing he was in bed with Matthew. It took the retired scientist to recognize his surroundings. "That's right.. we're at Gene's place." The dream he had woken up from was already fading from his memory. It was rather absurd, recalling what he could. He could've sworn the dream was incredibly vivid and felt so real. But the little bits of the dream that he did remember became fuzzy and distant in his mind. Carl wasn't as quiet as he thought. Matthew had woken up. "Love, are you okay?" His voice had brought Carl from his thoughts. "Matthew, dearest. I hadn't meant to wake you up." He frowned, feeling guilty as he wanted his husband to get as much rest as needed. "It's alright, I needed to get up early anyway. Don't feel bad, my darling. I'm worried about you, though.” He gave Matthew a smile. “It was just a dream. I was just startled from a dream. I don't even remember what happened in it anymore. I'll be fine.” Matthew pulled the other into his arms, holding him in such a comforting manner. Placing a loving kiss to Carl's forehead. “Even so, I've still got you.” The former scientist blushed. Matthew still had such an effect on him even after all this time. “Thank you, my love.” They had stayed like that for a good while. It wasn't until Carl noticed the time that he forced Matthew to get out of bed and to get ready for his community service. Though there was something that had been bothering Carl since waking up. He had not remembered going back to bed after his conversation with Gene last night. No matter how much he tried to, it just kept coming up blank to him. Carl sighed, he must've been that tired that he didn't remember. He was getting up there in age. “I could stay back. Margaret won't be very happy about it but I don't want to leave you if you're not okay.” Carl smiled once more. “I'm not going to be responsible for what she'd do if you tried. You're also expecting a new face there, aren't you?” Matthew looked surprised at that. He had completely forgotten about that. And Carl did make a point. Wincing at the thought of what Margaret might do if he actually did skip out on it. Though for Carl, it would've been absolutely worth it. Whatever punishment she'd dole out, he'd endure for his dearest husband. “Go get dressed now.” Matthew chuckled at that before doing as he said. Leaving Carl to this thoughts.

Carl still felt unsettled by the dream, it was like he was walking through a mist. Yet at the same time it was like someone or something was controlling his body and actions. The dream was scary, but also ludicrous. At one point Carl thought he saw someone who looked like his old narcissus ex boyfriend who he never thought about again until now. Carl just let out a sigh and shook his head. 'It was just a nightmare.' Carl reassured himself. He remembered how reading how the mind and senses can trick the body into thinking something is real when it isn't. His strange dream was just one of those cases. Carl decided to get out of bed and go downstairs. He was going to try and help his son and other son-in-law deal with this strange and frightening case of kidnapping. Carl pushed away the issue of the nightmare and headed downstairs, ignoring the feeling of dread in the back of his mind. Carl also did not pay attention to that fact that his mouth was no longer dry and that there was no glass cup on the nightstand when he got up that morning. Atomic Steele surveyed the area with caution and an intense gaze. He was going over the area looking for something out of the ordinary. Something that had bothered his friend and teammate Electric Blur. Something in this seemingly abandoned area affected Blur's powers. "I wasn't sure what just happened. It felt like I was suddenly communicating emotionally with a strange energy wave that was being transmitted from there. I felt uneasy and scared...but also sad for some reason." That is what Blur told Atomic when she came back to their hideout looking shaken and worried. She told him she never felt anything like that before, not even from the fallen B.E.A.W labs. Atomic Steele offered to check it out for her as the young heroine wasn't keen on returning to the spot. While Electric Blur was being comforted by her other teammates, Atomic followed the directions the heroine had given him to the location where she felt the strange and unsettling energy. What Atomic Steele found when he got there was a large but abandoned warehouse surrounded by an empty field. The area was surrounded by a rusted, wired fence. The place looked like it hadn't been used for years. Still, the normally brave yet brash young hero couldn't help but feel a child go up his spine. His gut and instincts telling him there is something dangerous here, something evil. Atomic Steele walked up to the doors of the warehouse. He grabbed at a rusted handle and tried opening it. To the hero's surprise and growing caution, the door easily unlocked. Atomic Steele took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. He then proceeded inside the warehouse in a slow pace, ready to discover what laid inside. "Oh hello there Matthew. Cutting it a bit close are we." Miss Dewey lightly teased the former villain as he just came into the library to start his community service. "Sorry about that Miss Dewey. I had some problems this morning but I'm here now." Matthew replied, feeling a bit embarrassed about cutting things close. He really didn't want to leave Carl and Gene alone during the family crisis that was happening but at the same time he really didn't want to test the limits of his second chance at freedom from prison. Miss Dewey gave the man a look of sympathy and concern. "You know, if there is a serious problem going on at home, I wouldn't mind helping you fill out some forms to request a temporary leave from your community service." The librarian offered. Matthew smiled in appreciation at her kind gesture. "Thank you Miss Dewey but I'll be alright." Matthew responded. "So has the new service worker arrived yet?", the former villain asked. Miss Dewey smiled and nodded. "Yes he is here. Matthew, allow me to introduce you to Frank Leigh." Matthew glanced over to the man Miss Dewey introduced. He looked to be a few years older than Victor but still younger than Matthew and Carl. He had dark hair and light, blueish gray eyes. The man gave a friendly wave to Matthew. "Hi nice to meet you." Frank spoke in a kind tone. @dualnaturedscientist

[strawberrystepmom]

nanami x gn!reader. a christmas surprise from your favorite man. this is a repost from my sweetest season event last year ⭐️

On the surface, Nanami Kento is nothing but composed.

Perfectly gelled hair, soft blonde strands in place away from his face. Pressed slacks, glistening wristwatch, a soft moss green cashmere sweater - if he were a model from a magazine you’d believe it. But he’s sitting next to you, gazing deeply into your eyes, a storm of emotion swirling inside of him.

His golden gaze is tender, his affection for you unspoken but unwavering and today he has a very important question to ask.

One of his hands is wrapped so hard around a small square box in his pocket he’s afraid the delicate little hinges will break. His palm is uncharacteristically sweaty and it’s all he can think about despite how softly you’re smiling at him from your spot across the couch.

A man who has killed, seen death at the hands of others, experienced loss larger than any one man should have to and he’s afraid to ask four little words. The absurdity isn’t lost on him. His palms feel clammy once more.

The tremendous weight of his losses is what finally made him decide to stop putting off making things official with you. Kento has loved you from the moment you smiled in his direction. You are a bright sunbeam in the otherwise gray world he lives in and what kind of man wouldn’t want to bottle sunlight forever if they could?

He knows making you a permanent part of his life puts you at risk and that it’s deeply selfish. He bought the ring on your first date two and a half years ago. He has spent every day since weighing the pros and cons of asking in his mind. With Christmas around the corner, he decided a few weeks ago the time is now.

“Darling?”

Kento’s voice wraps around you like velvet and you smile at the sound, the comforting familiarity. He reaches out toward you and delicately places his palm against yours, fingers lacing together.

“I have something to ask you, if that’s alright.”

You can feel your mouth go dry at the thought of what he may ask. Today has been nothing short of idyllic, starting with a beautiful walk through flurries and breakfast and ending with the two of you cozy next to a fire.

“Of course. Anything.”

His cheeks redden, eyes glancing down from yours for a moment as he sighs deeply. Anxiety pulses through his body but he knows if he doesn’t do it now, he may never get the chance to. Clearing his throat you lean forward and squeeze his fingers in between yours and you notice the way his pocketed hand is tensed.

“You are the greatest gift this life has ever given me,” he starts, voice thick with emotion. Kento said when he returned to working as a sorcerer that he wouldn’t be married until after he left. You changed his perception completely, taught him how to live again and not merely exist. Doesn’t he deserve a little self indulgence?

“I cannot return all you’ve given me but I want to ask if you’re willing to give me forever to try.”

Feeling yourself tear up, you blink wildly and sniff, eyes fixed on where his shaking hand leaves his pocket with a small black box between his fingers. Realization dawns and you can no longer stop yourself from crying, joyful tears dripping down your cheeks and onto your chin. Kento lifts your joined hands to your face and uses the back of his to wipe the salty tracks away.

“Will you marry me?”

No words have ever sat on his tongue the way these ones do. Not the first I love you, not the promise to come home safe to you every time he leaves.

Unable to open the box as quickly as you climb into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, you nod wildly and sob against the side of his neck. A serene smile graces his face as he kisses the side of your head and rubs your back.

“So I’ll take that as a yes?”

You laugh, nodding as you pull away from his neck to look into his eyes, the same ones where you’ve found a home. “It’s definitely a yes.”

He laughs, a joyful sound that you want to keep and replay until it wears out, and places his hand between the two of you. The small black box is open and you gasp at the jewelry inside, tears falling again as he kisses them off of the apples of your cheeks.

“None of that, love. We’re celebrating now.”

Shakily you offer your hand to him and he slides the perfectly sized ring onto your finger. Admiring the sight, you press your palm against his chest and take a deep breath. His voice comes from your temple where his lips are once again pressed.

“Merry Christmas.”

[pleasepress1forfrontdesk]

The Chains Are Heavy

(Levi's long awaited backstory, finally)

Special thanks to everyone who has been following and rp with me. You really have helped make this character more than he was meant to be.

(@fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency @tired-sayaka-ada @never-gets-sick @oscarsgallery @city-of-c0rpses @v-extreme-diminuendo @kijimha )

How did I get here again? It could all have been a simple life for me, but it wasn't. Ever since I became 10, I was rob. Robbed of my family, friends, goals, dreams, my childhood, and most importantly my innocence.

Not just my innocent mentally, but literally too. I lost my innocence of being a civil. They all hate me now. Rightfully so. After all I have been nothing but a danger to everyone around me. All I did was make things worse. This war could have ended quicker if it way for me....

How did I get here again....

Foul Ball

It all started on March 22, a day after my birthday and two days after my best buddy's birthday, Cooper. We have been friends since daycare and being in the nursery at church. Cooper was a year younger than me, he was a wild kid, always taking things to the risk or the extreme. Super fast as well, faster than all of the kids on the playground, running was one of his passions. Cooper once told me that when he grows up he'll become a track star. As silly as it sound he had my full support, because you could never say no to Cooper. You could never tell him what to do.

I on the other hand was the balance for Cooper's wild behavior. Much more soft spoken and tame for a 10 year old. I may have not been the fastest runner, but I sure did have a good arm at throwing things. I had a goal, to become the world's best baseball player. It was my dream after all, to be on the professional teams and be famous. I wanted to make my mom proud

I must admit some of my behavior is like that, mostly because I was a mommas boy. It was just her and I after all, which I didn't mind. Though sometimes Cooper would joke that his dad, who was also single, should marry my mom so that we can be brothers and live together. I always told him that we wouldn't need legal documents in order to be brothers. As long as we stick together we will always be brothers.

Well that promise didn't last long... Cooper and I wear out in the front yard of my house, playing baseball as usual. I was using my new metal bat that I got for my birthday, it was much stronger than my old wooden bat. We were having a fun time, Cooper was about to throw the ball until he arm suddenly dropped and let go of the ball.

"What's wrong?" I asked as I turned my head to see what Cooper was now looking at. My eyes widen and I start to feel the same sense of fear that Cooper might be feeling. Two black cars parked in my driveway, and five government agents came out of them. My heart skips a beat. It can't be.

I watched as the knocked on the front door of my home, my mom answering it a second later. The government agents start talking to her, and even though I couldn't hear what they were saying, I could tell by the look on mom's face that this way good.

Cooper tugged on my sleeve. "You don't think the president actually signed that bill right?..." Cooper looked worried now, and I so was I. I clenched my fist into my shirt.

"He would only sign it if war ever started....." The realization dawned upon us both. My lips trembled. "I don't want to go to war...." I mumbled those words with tears falling from my eyes.

That was the last day I ever saw my mom again.

That was the day I was robed of everything.

Strike 1

A 10 year old out in the battlefields of war, that isn't something you saw everyday. But here I was, fearing that my life could end at any moment in these trenches. And it would be like this for the next 9 years.

It took some adjusting to, though there was no time to adjust. Hand a gun to a 10 year old and tell him to go to the trenches and figure it out. I wasn't even given training. They didn't care. They wouldn't care about me. I was a child who would get in their way.

I didn't blame them. After all this wasn't the military decision after all, it was the horrible president at the time who made this decision. What the Nimone government did was cruel. They went through every legal citizen document and determined who would be drafted into war. We already had plenty of men above 18 drafted, but it wasn't enough. With the law at the time, anyone who was above 10 years old, could be drafted if they were proved useful enough to be used.

And that's what upset me the most. That I was just some weapon in their eyes. A tool to be once and never again. I wasn't the only one upstairs though. Many parents and families were upstairs by this dumb decision. It wasn't just families either, it was our own men as well who were outraged by this decision.

Upon my first day at the military base I met the leader of my unit squad, Captain Ross. He was a tall and well built man, always having a cigarette in hand and giving cold gazes at everyone. It was scary first meetings him. After all, the captains in the Nimone are train and built to be unstoppable military weapons. Nothing can stop them, and they will not stop until they are dead.

Being compared to this grown man compared to me was quite scary contrast. I was just some tiny kid compared to him. We both looked at each other for the first time and I can tell by the look in his mustard yellow eyes that he was displeased. There was a scoff as Ross stared down at me. "Who the Hell put a 10 year old in my unit squad? This is a kid, he should be home, not here about to die for our country." At least Ross and I were on the same page. Who's mess up idea was this anyways?

Everything from that day forward continued to go down. You expect the 10 year old to be a helper in transporting supplies or be in the med bay, but no I was thrown straight to the front lines. The trenches. The conditions of trenches were horrible, but the treatment around here was worse.

I wasn't given proper clothes that were my size, everything I worn was made for grown men. I had to learn how to sew to keep my shirt together because I wasn't given new clothes. I been wearing the same shirt the militarily gave me for over 10 years now.

The bunks were hard as rocks, I could barely sleep. That's even if I could sleep at all within the anxiety that any moment a bomb could drop on us. Sometimes I didn't even get to sleep in bed. Someone I would pass out in the trenches or on the floor. I had to push myself to still be barely functional.

They needed me after all, all for my ability. It was either fighting in the trenches, or infiltrating the enemy team as a spy. With my ability I could look, sound, and act like someone else as long as I had a single strand of their DNA on a peice of clothing for me to wear, I could transform to be like them. Mirror Mirror, I called it. This was useful to the military, since I had to use it a lot. My ability was the only reason why I was still living while fellow soliders fall dead to the floor before my eyes.

They all started calling me DNA, Levi DNA, since that's what I was to them. I was called that name so many times that to this day I can't remember my own real last name now. That war has made me forget a lot of things.

Strike 2

I try to suppress the memories and nightmares so hard, but at the cost of forgetting anything good before the war. I was robed of the memories of my childhood because of it. Even if I did try to forget, the ones that were the worse always lingered in the back of my mind. All those moments of being in pain and suffering. Everything was starting to become dull around 18.

This was had been going on for so long that I was loosing my reason to keep fighting. As if I ever had a reason to in the first place. I was just doing what I was told. Go spy on these guys, aim for the head, use your ability, back to the battlefield you go. All words that have no importance to me anymore.

I remember one time I was in the medical bay, I had gotten badly injured, but even in that moment I couldn't rest for long. Dr. Ikari, a young man who never got to finish school, had to patch me up. Unfortunately he had to send me right back out to the battlefield a minute after he was done attending me. I could tell by the look in his eyes that we were feeling the same thing. This dullness that we both felt. I barely talked to him, but I could tell that both of our worlds were become gray.

When I was around 19 I thought there was nothing left to look forward to. The war was slowing down but I was already numb. Or so I thought until one day I saw a familiar face. Jumps off the bus was a familiar red head, it was Cooper! For the first moment in a long time I smiled as I saw him. He spotted me and we waved to each other. He still recognized me! I never felt more happy in that moment.

At last we can be like brothers again. Things became less dull, there was some color back into my life. Things were finally looking up. We would sit in the dining hall, eating the worst food, but that didn't matter to me. I got to talk to. My best friend.

Cooper would catch me up on everything that I have missed and I would vent to him about how this war was. His optimism brought up my spirits, which brought me to ease. He barely has changed since I last saw him, my same old buddy. We promised that once this war was over that we would support each other while we fulfilled our dreams. A track star and a baseball player.

Strike 3

That promise didn't stay.

I was robed again.

I could never forget that moment.

We were out in the battlefield, trying to traverse no man's land, our side finally had the upper hand in closing end on the enemy. But we lost many men that day, including Cooper.

He didn't react faster in time. Before I knew it, I was cradling his dying body in my arms, blood dripping from his forehead. Cooper was shot in the head. I couldn't stop crying. I wasn't even fighting anymore. All I did was lay on the battlefield, holding him closer to me. "Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me." I would mumble to myself through tears.

But he left. I believe now that he's resting well with God in heaven.

In that moment I could forgive myself. I couldn't forgive the enemy team. I couldn't forgive our own government for all of this. Things were becoming dull again, but there was this redness starting to boil in the inside of me. This ticking time bomb.

Then it happened.

I had enough.

The day I finally snapped.

I'm out

I regret everything I have done in that span of a week. I was the reason why things got worse. It was little things at first. Ignoring Ross commands, running straight into dangerous territory and slaughtering the enemies, or throwing a grenade at helicopters. Then it got worse, I destroyed many of our own military weapons and transport, with some of our own men still in them. I set some of the base on fire. Gave valuable information to the enemy team. Held hostages of innocent people. Many things.

All these things became documented, published for all the public to see. Soon Levi DNA became a name to hate. I was a danger to everyone around me. That I need to be killed or locked up away forever.

There were two final straws that let to my arrest. The president at the time came over to the base, there for a impossible meeting. He was the reason why I was suffering like this. With all the rage built up in me, I tried to assassinate the president. It took 6 guys to stop me from doing so.

But I wasn't done that day. The worst thing that I have done was use me ability for a murder. I transformed to look like Captain Ross, committing a murder on the previous vice captain at that time, making it look like he was the one who did it. I baseball almost ruined his name and reputation.

He hated me that day since.

There I was, now arrested and locked away in a high prison facility. Ross took the pleasure to torture me in breaking my spirit, in which he did. There was nothing to look forward to anymore. Everything had became gray once again. I felt nothing as I sat in my dark cell, chained to the wall. I didn't deserve good treatment. I didn't deserve kindness or anything good. After all a criminal, a monster, doesn't deserve anything at all.

There was no reason for me to live anymore, and I was ready to accept that.

For a long time in that cell I would be in my own little headspace, daydreaming that I was living a better life with my family and friends. It was my only "joy" left. But even that couldn't be enough.

I was ready to end it all, yet a tiny part of me told me not yet. One more chance. I try to ignore that tiny bit of hope left, but I caved in. I made a promise to myself, that if I could not find a reason to continue on living in a month, then I would end it all.

So I acted. With brute force I broke out of that prison. I snuck onto a boat headed towards Japan. I free myself and upon leaving Nimone to Japan, I did find one major thing to keep me living. The sun and rakn. The sun was so warm and bright, great against my skin and the rain was so calming and cooling.

This was my chance to start again.

Back in the game

Upon arriving to Japan, I ended up in Yoko's city. There I was already lost and confused. I didn't know where to go or where to stay. I didn't know Japanese so asking for help was a impossible.

For my first few weeks there I was a hobo, wandering around, taking food out of trash cans. I found a abandon car to sleep in for the nights, but I barely got sleep. Things weren't looking good again. I desperately needed a job.

But who would hire a criminal?

That's until I stumbled upon this building and this man with probably over 20 children. His name was Mr Fukuzawa. And upon meeting him, my life was never the same again. Things changed, for the good this time. And I was welcomed into a new life with such amazing and kind people. My world had color again.

I'm forever thankful for that day.

Thank you.

[hotchocolatefanfics]

I’m just gonna rant about Red for a moment here because I feel like it.

I don’t know anything about mental health disorders but I have noticed a lot of Red’s personality traits that we see in Revelations (especially) and (a little bit) in War are similar to Antisocial Personality Disorder (manipulative, aggression, hostility) and some of the things he has done in Revelations (such as going after Cornelia and threatening the midwives with a gun) could be described as ‘lack of restraint, impulsive, risk taking’ which are also signs of ASPD.

This does NOT necessarily mean Red has Anti Social Personality Disorder, I’m just saying there are similarities with his behavior and personality with the disorder.

Whether he has a disorder or not though, Red’s hatred of Caesar and his rule seems to run deep. It bothers me that we do not know anything about Red’s life prior or during the events of Dawn, especially because him wanting to overthrow Caesar in Revelations and later joining the AO army as a donkey doesn’t seem like just anger over Koba’s death (why the heck did he follow him in the first place?).

I think it’s reasonable to say that Red is likely a teenager in Revelations (maybe he, like Blue Eyes, Ash and Lake, was born sometime after Rise-like first generation of apes born after their liberation) so some of his thinking might be attributed to that but mainly it might mean his childhood was rough (Caesar’s Story also hinted at mortality rates in the early years of their freedom weren’t great: deaths in childbirth, illness, cold weather, etc).

It just seems to me that Red‘a hate for Caesar and (possibly) the other apes is much more personal than Koba’s death. My headcanon for Red is basically:

- Something or a series of events happened in Red’s childhood that made him feel rejected by the colony (not necessarily by fault of Caesar and others! Like maybe he lost someone close to him to a human (which could explain his preference to Koba’s rule over Caesar’s), or Red was in a situation where he needed help but no one knew or how to help him (such as if he was abused by a parent or orphaned at a young age) and he felt abandoned by them).

- If humans did have something to do with Red’s life before War, it likely would have involved his parents. Maybe his parents were abused by humans and thus taught Red to hate and fear them, or maybe one or both parents were actually killed by humans sometime between Rise and Dawn.

Another thing I notice is Red never interacts with Blue Eyes or Lake in either Revelations or in War but he does with Winter and Grey (in Revelations).

This may not mean anything but it makes me wonder what Red’s social life was like before he turned on the apes. I think it’s safe to say he and Winter had an ok relationship before that but did he have any friends his own age? He kind of seems like a loner to me.

What is also odd to me is, despite being a gorilla, Red prefers manipulation and underhanded tactics (in Revelations) as opposed to physical violence (of course he is capable of it).

This is where his age comes into play here, his ‘beating around the bush’ in the beginning of Revelations could have been Red trying to overthrow Caesar without actual confrontation and hoping the humans did that for him But it still doesn’t explain his willingness to manipulate Grey and Winter into trying to kill Cornelia, make Grey the leader, and take the colony somewhere else.

But then here’s the funny thing about Red, despite all that he is also shown to be redeemable when he saved Caesar at the end of War (which also resulted in his own death).

The look on his face as he watched the apes get shot at too!

It makes me wonder if when Red manipulated Winter into telling him where Caesar was in the beginning, if he was also attempting to save his life (given that Red and the other turncoat apes joined the AO soldiers to survive). This can’t really be confirmed though since we didn’t actually this conversation.

TLDR: Red is an under-rated and complex gorilla and I love him so much for it!

Feel free to share your own thoughts! 🦍

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Dancing 'til the Break of Dawn - Pt 21

<Pt20

(TWST Zombie apocalypse AU where Yuu beast tames just a little too close to the sun)

“Can’t believe I showed you around the whole complex and you didn’t even pay attention!” Azul said.

Yuu lifted his hands in a shrug. “It’s not like it’ll matter.”

The twins didn’t seem to care if Yuu, nicely put, took himself off the census, so he doubted he would be allowed to walk around freely.

Frankly, he was pretty sure that the only reason he was allowed to walk around now was because Jade and Floyd were too busy torturing his friends for the high crime of Being Yuu’s Friends to remember that Yuu himself existed.

He wasn’t sure how long that would last.

He worried his lip.

And then he pulled a cigarette box from his pocket. It was Deuce’s. Yuu had never given the boy any, so it was still full. There was a splatter of blood across the already red packaging from one of the many times Yuu had been injured.

He shook a cigarette out and brought it to his lips, flicking his lighter to light it.

He had no intentions of breathing it in. In fact, doing so would defeat the purpose of this:

Establish a pattern.

If he inhaled, he’d start coughing, and that would be… well, an indication that he didn’t do this often. And embarrassing, which was far more of a problem, in Yuu’s eyes.

“That stressed already?” Azul said, looking a little too pleased about it. The dickhead.

Yuu smiled, and it was real, because he was more than happy for any excuse that would get the cigarette out of his mouth, if even for a moment. “This isn’t my first rodeo. And, y’know, I was starting to miss my old arson days, I’m glad to have an excuse to do it again.”

Azul’s smug little smile dropped.

“Please don’t burn down my mall. Do you know how long it took to get this place functional?!”

“Don’t give me a reason to burn the place down, and I won’t,” Yuu said. “It’s really that easy.”

“You know it’s not.”

“Get your dogs on leashes. I’m a cat person, you know?”

~

They were in the room that Yuu was sure he wouldn’t see the outside of for quite some time.

At least there was a window, this time.

Azul was already preparing to leave. But he hesitated, his hand in the doorway.

He turned to look at Yuu.

Yuu had flopped on the floor to inspect the carpet, stunned to find that there were no hints of blood among the white. Who cleaned this (because Yuu needed to ensure their pay was, at the very least, doubled)? Was it, somehow, untouched? Wild.

“How are you so calm about –? Nevermind. You’re clearly insane. Pro tip: if you want Jade and Floyd to not kill you, make sure they’re never bored.”

Yuu looked up just long enough to flash a wink his way.

“Who could ever get bored of me?”

~

The second Jade appeared in the doorway to Yuu’s house, he held a hand out for Yuu’s lighter.

Yuu smiled sweetly, batting his eyelashes. “You’re gonna have to fight me for it.”

He barely even got the sentence out before a fist came sailing for his head.

Yuu stumbled back, his eyes wide. He really hadn’t expected Jade to call his bluff.

But, hey, Yuu never really got to fight… anything, really, anymore! Who knows! Maybe attempted murder could be fun, if your target is literally unkillable!

He pulled a knife from his pocket and launched himself at Jade.

~

Yuu, of course, lost. He, frankly, wasn’t willing to risk popping the stitches in his shoulder again, because Ace and Deuce would never let him hear the end of it if they found out… and also, ew, pain, or something.

So, he got his ass handed to him. He was definitely going to have a few bruises in the morning.

On the bright side, though, Yuu got to stab Jade a few times. Which is basically free therapy. Stab any ‘Jade’s in your life to cancel your prescription to Mental Illness today!

Wait, he’d had a goal with all of this, hadn’t he?

He turned onto his side to face Jade. “Can you guys at least light my cigarettes for me?”

Jade raised an eyebrow, amused. “And since when have you taken a liking to smoking?”

“Very recently,” Yuu said, smiling innocently.

Jade smiled. It was an unnatural smile, stretching too wide on his face. The kind of smile zombies wore when they had just set eyes on their newest prey.

Jade didn’t trust him in the slightest.

But, apparently, he was into that:

“If that’s what you need to live comfortably, we would be more than happy to provide that for you,” Jade said. “... so long as you do not do anything idiotic, I don’t see the harm in providing you with small things like this.”

Yuu raised an eyebrow. “What would I even do? Swallow a flaming cigarette whole?”

“... you see, you have managed to come up with something far beyond anything I could imagine in a mere few seconds, and this is not instilling me with faith.”

“Shutting up now!”

~

Yuu blinked as he stepped out of the bathroom, and found Azul there.

Jade and Floyd were also there, but that, at least, was expected. They were zombies, they slept with Yuu – they slept in the same bed as Yuu, sorry, Yuu wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. Lord knows he got enough of that shit from Ace.

Regardless, the symbiotic nature of Yuu’s relationship with zombies was irrelevant. Azul was here and it was weird.

He frowned at Jade. “What’s he doing here? Aren’t we going to bed?”

Jade smiled. “Of course, a good night’s rest is vital for one’s health.”

“... you didn’t answer my first question, not sure if you noticed!”

“I did.”

“Floyddddddd,” Yuu whined, spinning on his heel to look at Floyd instead. “Heeeeelp.”

Floyd lifted Yuu off of his feet.

Hm.

“It’s my shoulder that’s injured, not my legs,” Yuu said, his patience already straining. It was day three, and actually using those cigarettes was becoming more and more tempting by the hour.

“I know!”

Yuu sighed through his nose. Loudly. Frankly, it didn’t sound much different than the scream he was suppressing, just a little quieter.

Thankfully, no one acknowledged it.

Unfortunately, this was also infuriating in its own right, so Yuu really wasn’t getting any wins here.

He looked at Azul. “Has anyone ever bitten them out of spite before? Because it’s really tempting.”

“I’ve considered it,” Azul admitted.

“You could always be the first, Yuu-chan!” Floyd said.

Yuu glared up at him. He would not be tricked into becoming inhuman, thanks.

Unfortunately, Floyd just seemed to think this was cute, because he pressed a kiss to Yuu’s forehead and squeezed him just a little tighter.

Yuu stabbed his knife into Floyd’s shoulder.

Which made his entire arm spazz out for a second. So, Yuu went crashing to the floor.

Yuu suffered. Every day. All the time.

Maybe this is why you don’t stab the people who are carrying you. An important thing to remember for later.

He sighed, pushing himself up to sit. At least the carpet cushioned his fall. A little. Like, marginally.

“Why are you here, senpai?” Yuu asked.

Azul hesitated, briefly, shuffling from one foot to the next. “Well, running a society is somewhat time-consuming, and I, occasionally, forget to sleep.”

“‘Forget’,” Jade said. He didn’t actually scoff, but the feeling of a scoff was definitely there.

Azul pulled his glasses down so he could glare at Jade. Yuu’s gaze caught on the dark bruising beneath his eyes.

“How do you forget to sleep for, like, three days in a row?” Yuu said.

Now Azul was glaring at him, too. Fun.

(It actually was a little funny, watching Azul’s head spin on a swivel so he could continually glare at either Jade or Yuu.)

Floyd rested his chin on Yuu’s good shoulder, smiling widely. “Exactly. So, since he’s stupid and can’t take care of himself, we take care of him instead!”

Yuu just nodded along. This all checked out. He still wasn’t sure why Azul was here, though.

“Now,” said Jade, placing his hands delicately on Azul’s shoulders before pushing him over, sending him toppling into the bed. “Sleep.”

Oh. Ohhhhhh.

If Azul wasn’t going to sleep, then Jade and Floyd were going to make him sleep. And the only way they could do that was if Azul was in the same bed as them.

Which would be fine. If Yuu wasn’t also, according to Zombie Law, forced to sleep in the same bed as any zombies who were currently watching over him.

“I’ll sleep on the couch!” Yuu said hastily. “It’s within view, so you guys don’t have to –!”

Arms wrapped around his waist from behind, lifting him just far enough off of the ground that he couldn’t get enough leverage to run away.

He went for his knife, but found his pocket already empty.

Damn it. He’d already used the stab Floyd in the shoulder trick once before! They were wise to it, now! Nooooo!

Despite their struggles against The System, it wasn’t long before Yuu and Azul were forced to lay beside each other in bed, as stiff as boards despite the two zombies wrapped around them.

Said zombies were openly staring at the two humans in their arms. Which is fun. You know, ever since Yuu was a little boy, he had always thought that the thing that would make sleep easier was two sets of eyes on him while he was trying to relax! So, really, he was having the time of his life right now!

(At least Grim had the decency to pretend to sleep.)

Yuu looked at Azul.

“If you have a nightmare I’m making you deal with it on your own.”

Azul’s eyes narrowed. “You’re such a disrespectful junior.”

“I am not doing any of the ‘there was only one bed’ tropes.”

~

“This place smells like an ashtray,” Azul commented when he stepped inside a few days later, his nose wrinkling.

Frankly, Yuu agreed. He tried to stay in the corner, to keep it as far away from where people actually lingered as he possibly could, but that wasn’t really how air worked…

He looked at the ceiling, and realized there was a thin layer of smoke over the whole room. Honestly, he’d barely even noticed. Dully, he wondered if he was slightly high. He had been trying to not inhale anything, because a cigarette addiction didn’t sound particularly easy to deal with, but… well, he was certainly calmer than he should be when cooped up like this.

He shook his head to clear it, and took a moment to recall what the conversation had been about. He really was high, huh?

Whatever.

“Certain people won’t let me open the window.”

Jade and Floyd sported infuriating smiles.

“I do not smell anything,” Jade said.

“You don’t breathe,” Azul hissed.

“We can breathe if we want to,” Floyd said, doing an exaggerated inhale –.

And then he erupted into a coughing fit.

“Ha!” said Azul. “Told you!”

Needless to say, Yuu was now allowed to open the window to smoke.

(If, privately, he missed the high, and maybe ‘accidentally’ breathed in cigarette smoke every once in a while, then that was no one’s business but his own.)

~~~~~

Pt22>

[agirlsawalittlerose]

SILK STRINGS

Aegon x OFC

Aegon Targaryen wanted nothing to do with that cursed crown. So, he fled to Volantis, hoping to live the good life amidst spiced wine, exotic whores, and strange customs, all paid for with the gold he'd stolen from the throne. But when he awoke outside the Black Walls of East Volantis, with no memory of how he had ended up there, he found himself entangled in the machinations of the Triarchy’s elections. With the help of an unlikely ally, he would come to understand the true value of power.

TW: Eventual Smut, Non-Con, slavery, sexism, inaccurate lore, canon divergent

Chapter 1: Volantis

Chapter 2: Dragonlords, C**ts & Tigers

Chapter 3: Marital Duties & Lust

Chapter 4: Cherries & Baths

CHAPTER 5: Names & Blades

The dawn was still young, the sky streaked with the first light of morning, when Dila stood at the terrace, her gaze sweeping across the tranquil gardens below. A flicker of movement caught her eye—The Vala. He was walking, alone, his steps slow and meandering, making his way back toward the Black Walls. Her breath caught in her throat. Fool.

Without hesitation, she left the terrace, her silk robes brushing against her legs as she hurried down the stone steps and into the gardens. There was no time to think, only to act. She moved swiftly through the shadowed paths, her mind racing. If anyone sees him…

Catching up to him, she reached out and seized him by the arm, pulling him into a dark, secluded alcove, where the dense canopy of trees concealed them from view. Aegon tensed in her grasp, eyes widening in surprise. Before he could speak, she clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Are you mad?” she hissed, her voice a sharp whisper in the stillness. Her hand slowly lowered from his lips, and Aegon blinked, clearly startled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I—” He began, but she cut him off with a glare that could silence dragons.

“No one within the Black Walls walks on foot,” she said, her words slow and deliberate, as though she were explaining it to a child. “Do you not know this?” Her grip on his arm tightened. “It’s considered a mark of low standing, a sign of no worth. If anyone saw you, if word got out…”

She trailed off, exasperation flooding her voice. Aegon’s brow furrowed, confusion plain on his face.

“I didn’t know,” he muttered, though his tone lacked any true remorse.

Dila’s jaw clenched in frustration. He really is clueless, she thought bitterly. She exhaled sharply, trying to keep her composure. “You’ve put Qorlo’s greatest asset at risk—yourself. If the Tigers thought for a moment that you weren’t worth the name we’ve given you, everything we’ve built, everything we’ve planned, could fall apart.”

Aegon shifted under her scrutiny, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I was just… getting some air.”

Dila’s eyes narrowed. His excuse was as transparent as glass, and the slight tremor in his voice only confirmed it. She stared at him, the silence between them heavy, tension swirling in the closeness of the darkened corner. Aegon seemed almost boyish in his discomfort, the Lost Son of Valyria turned awkward under her watchful gaze.

The moment stretched, the air between them thickening with unspoken words. Dila’s pulse quickened, though she wasn’t sure if it was anger or something else that drove the sharpness of her breath. She had seen the way his eyes followed her, the way they darkened with lust when he thought no one was looking. He had been reckless then, too.

Finally, she sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. “Stay here.” Her voice softened but still carried the edge of command.

Dila stepped away, her sharp gaze cutting through the gardens. She called out for a slave, one of the house men who had been sweeping the paths.

“Prepare a palanquin,” she ordered. “Now.”

The slave bowed quickly and ran off to fulfill her mistress’ request. Dila turned back to Aegon, her features softening ever so slightly.

“We’ll take a tour of the gardens,” she said, her voice smoother now, though the warning in it was unmistakable. “You’ll ride in the palanquin as befits your status, Vala”

Aegon nodded, though there was something guarded in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite place. He was still tense, his body stiff as she moved closer to him once more.

“Remember,” she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. “You may be a guest, but here, within these walls, you are what we decide you are.”

She allowed her words to linger, watching the way he swallowed nervously, before turning away as the palanquin was brought before them.

“Come,” she said, with a faint smile. “Let’s not waste the dawn.”

The palanquin rocked gently as it moved through the garden paths, the silken curtains drawn to allow glimpses of the rising sun and the occasional passerby. Dila sat poised, her expression serene as she exchanged pleasantries with the freemen and noblemen of Volantis who were beginning to populate the gardens. Her voice carried the smoothness of someone well-accustomed to these morning rituals, and Aegon found himself awkwardly nodding along, offering stilted greetings where he could.

Each time he tried to focus, his mind drifted back to that first night, to Dila’s silhouette framed by the doorway and the way her eyes had met his during her intimate moments with Qorlo. It was impossible to forget. The thought of it gnawed at him, his body tensing with every sideways glance at her. She was close enough that he could almost feel the warmth of her skin, yet there was an impenetrable barrier between them, one that seemed to blur every time their eyes met.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to bury his thoughts in the present, but Dila’s scent—jasmine and something sharper, more exotic—made it impossible to think clearly. As if sensing his distraction, Dila turned her gaze on him, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile, though there was something unsettlingly knowing in her eyes.

“Who are you?” she asked suddenly, her voice dropping to a low murmur, barely above a whisper, and this time, she spoke in the Common Tongue.

Aegon blinked, surprised. He hesitated before answering, forcing his voice to remain steady. “I told you, I don’t remember.”

Dila’s expression didn’t change, but there was a spark of something dangerous behind her pale eyes. “I thought we’d already established that was a lie.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice now like a dagger wrapped in silk. “If you want to keep your life, you’ll need to keep playing your role as the Vala. But I can’t help you if I don’t know the truth.”

Aegon tensed. His heart pounded in his chest as the weight of her words pressed down on him. He didn’t trust her—couldn’t trust her—but how much longer could he keep up the façade? His mind raced with possibilities, with the fear of what would happen if his true identity were revealed. Would they send him back to Westeros? Use him as a pawn, a hostage? The thought of being handed over to his enemies, or worse, to his family, filled him with dread.

Dila was watching him carefully, her eyes never leaving his face. She was clever, far too clever, and he could see the gears turning in her mind, already forming conclusions.

“You’re a dragon, aren’t you?” Her words were a whisper, but they cut through the air like a blade.

Aegon’s breath caught in his throat. Panic surged through him, and before he could think, his hand slipped behind his back. The hilt of a small knife rested against his palm, hidden beneath his tunic. With a sudden, fluid motion, he shifted in his seat, slipping an arm around Dila’s shoulders in what might have seemed like an intimate gesture as he closed the palanquin’s curtains. Beneath the folds of his sleeve, the point of the blade pressed lightly against the smooth skin of her throat.

For the first time, Dila’s composure faltered. Her lips parted slightly, her eyes narrowing as she glanced down at the blade. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her voice still soft but laced with warning.

Aegon’s grip tightened ever so slightly. “I’ll tell them the gods commanded the Vala to make a sacrifice this morning,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. His heart pounded in his chest, and he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing—what his endgame was—but desperation had overtaken him.

Dila didn’t flinch. Instead, she placed her hand gently on his thigh, her fingers curling against the fabric of his clothes. The touch was light, but it sent a jolt through him, igniting a fire in his blood that made it impossible to think clearly.

“You don’t want to do that,” she murmured, her lips dangerously close to his ear. Her other hand moved to his, the one holding the knife, and she gripped it firmly but not forcefully. Her touch was steady, persuasive. “Tell me your name.”

Aegon’s breath was shallow, his mind clouded by the intensity of the moment, by the scent of her, the feel of her skin. His pulse raced as he stared down at her, at the hand now resting so casually on his thigh. Every rational thought told him to pull back, to maintain control, but the sensation of her body so close to his was overwhelming.

“Aegon,” he finally whispered, the name slipping from his lips before he could stop it.

Dila’s eyes widened slightly, and she leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, their faces only inches apart. “Aegon,” she repeated, her voice laced with something between curiosity and amusement. Her breath was warm against his skin, her lips dangerously close to his.

Aegon could barely breathe. His mind raced, caught between the terror of what he had just confessed and the magnetic pull of her presence. He didn’t know whether to regret it or to trust her. The knife still hovered at her throat, but his hand felt weak, uncertain.

“You can trust me, Aegon,” she said softly, her eyes locking with his, unblinking. “You must trust me. You have no other choice.” Her hand on his thigh tightened ever so slightly. “If I wanted to betray you, I could have done so yesterday. But I didn’t. And me and Qorlo need you.”

He stared at her, his thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Could he trust her? Did he have any other option? Slowly, his grip on the knife slackened, and he allowed her to guide his hand down. The blade fell away from her throat, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Dila’s eyes remained fixed on his, searching for something in his gaze. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she leaned back into her seat, her fingers still resting lightly on his thigh. Aegon swallowed, unsure of what had just transpired between them. For now, at least, he was alive—and in her hands.

The tension between them began to ebb as the litter rocked gently through the gardens. Dila’s hand remained on Aegon’s thigh a moment longer before she withdrew it, settling back into the plush cushions with the grace of someone who had never known fear. Aegon, however, remained on edge, his heart still pounding in his chest from the rush of their earlier exchange. He had given her his name, the name of a dead king’s son—a prince in exile, barely surviving by the skin of his teeth.

For a while, neither of them spoke, and Aegon turned his gaze to the garden beyond the curtains. The greenery here was lush, meticulously curated, and utterly foreign to him. It was hard to believe he had flown so far, that the wars and betrayals of Westeros were half a world away. But even here, beneath the Black Walls, surrounded by the ancient bloodlines of Volantis, he could feel the weight of his past pressing down on him.

Dila’s voice broke the silence, soft but laced with curiosity. “What is it like? Westeros?”

Aegon hesitated, unsure of whether and how to answer. He had spent so much time hating it, cursing it, but in this moment, he felt the weight of his homeland settle over him like an old cloak, worn and threadbare but still his.

“It’s… cold,” he said, his voice flat. “And cruel.”

Dila frowned, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine cup. “But there must be something more than that. Something beautiful?”

Aegon looked at her, surprised by the innocence in her tone. It was the first time he had seen her without the hard-edged confidence that seemed to define her. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond. He could tell her about the beauty of Dragonstone, the majesty of the Red Keep, or the rolling green hills of the Reach. But none of it felt real to him anymore.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice rough with bitterness. “But I didn’t see much of it. The people there cling to power like dogs gnawing on bones, tearing each other apart for scraps. There’s no honor, no loyalty—not really. Just endless fighting. One pretender after another, with crowns that weigh more than they’re worth. Whatever beauty there might be gets swallowed by the mud and the blood.”

Dila’s gaze lingered on him, thoughtful but not fully understanding. She shifted slightly, adjusting the folds of her gown. “Is that why you left? Because of all the… mud?”

Aegon laughed, but it was a harsh, hollow sound. “That’s part of it. Probably the largest part, if I’m being honest. It’s like drowning, being there. The filth gets everywhere, seeps into your bones. And you can’t wash it off, no matter how hard you try.”

Dila tilted her head, her lips pursing in a frown. “I don’t think I understand.”

“How could you?” Aegon snapped before catching himself. “You’ve never been there, have you?”

Dila shook her head, her eyes narrowing with an odd mixture of curiosity and regret. “No. I’ve never been to Westeros.” She paused, her voice softening, almost wistful. “I’ve always wondered what it was like, but my place is here, within the Black Walls. I can’t waste time chasing after fantasies when there’s so much at stake.”

Her words were calculated, but there was something in the way she said them that struck Aegon. It was as if she were reciting a truth she had been told her entire life but had never truly believed. He could hear it in the way her voice wavered, in the subtle hesitations that betrayed her.

“You’re lying,” he said suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face.

Dila’s breath caught in her throat, and for the first time, the mask she wore cracked, if only for a second. She stared at him, wide-eyed, like a deer caught in a hunter’s trap. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aegon leaned forward, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’ve always wanted to leave, haven’t you? You hate being trapped here as much as I did back in Westeros.”

Dila blinked, and for a moment, he thought she might lash out, deny it, regain her composure. But instead, her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and the fire in her eyes dimmed. “I…” She hesitated, as though searching for the right words, but none came.

Aegon watched her carefully, the vulnerability in her face taking him by surprise. He had seen her as a manipulator, always in control, always one step ahead of him. But now, in this moment, she looked more human than she ever had before.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said, his voice low, almost kind. “I know what it’s like to feel trapped, to want something different, even if you don’t know exactly what that is.”

Dila’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She looked away, her gaze falling to the floor of the litter. For a long moment, the only sound was the rustling of the curtains and the faint murmur of voices from the gardens beyond. When she finally spoke again, her voice was quieter, softer than he had ever heard it.

“I care for my city and the future of my people” she answered, her gaze serious “My husband’s ambition is the same as mine. I mean it.”

Aegon nodded, understanding her in a way he hadn’t expected to. He had once dreamed of freedom, too, though that dream had soured somewhere along the way.

“But?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Is there something else you want?”

Dila’s gaze flickered back to his, and for the briefest of moments, he saw something raw, something unguarded in her eyes. But then the mask slipped back into place, and she straightened, her posture regal once more.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” she said, her voice returning to its usual strength. “My duty is to my family. To the Tigers. To the plan.”

Aegon felt a pang of disappointment, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He had spent his entire life running from duty, from expectations, and here she was, embracing it fully, even as it threatened to choke the life out of her.

But there, in the quiet of the litter, Aegon knew he had seen the truth. Beneath the layers of duty and ambition, Dila was just as lost as he was.

[rosewriteswhump]

Fear

This is takes place about a month or two before the first chapter. Wait so this is chapter 0

cw: panic attack, flashbacks, past abuse, begging, sobbing, revealing trauma, lady whump (whumper and whumpee), wing whump, nails ripped off in past, torture, escape, caught in trap, implied fainting

Indicates flashback

---

Run. Run away. You aren't safe, she's coming. She's going to hurt you. You'll lose your wings. She'll rip them off slowly just like your nails.

"Marlie~, come out little fairy. I know you're out here! I might hurt you less if you show yourself!" Alice laughed cruelly, dragging chains behind her. The chains were steel, enough to weaken Marlie enough to block magic.

Marlie kept running, exhausted and malnourished, it wasn't long before she became unsteady on her feet, swaying as she stumbled forwards, landing directly on a hunting trap. Her cuffed hands clamped over her mouth, covering the shriek that had escaped her. She could hear Alice walk underneath the trap that was dangling in the forest canopy.

Hour passed, Alice had given up for now. Heading back home to make a plan for searching. Marlie was too frail to get far on her own after all.

---

Marlie slowly regained consciousness, unaware of when she had lost it. Someone was holding her, their body warm and muscular but soft.

Hesitantly, she opened her eyes, finding herself looking up at Cedar as he gently lay her on a bed. "Marlie! Are you hurt? Did Alice use any metals?" He asked, worry creeping over him. The fear from his own experiences lying in wait.

Said fairy looked at him, eyes filling with terrified tears as she sat up, backing into the corner of the bed against the wall. Her breath quickened and tears rapidly streamed down her face. "P-please, i-I won't run. I can't go b-back to Miss Alice! Sir, I'll do anything. I-I can use my magic to-" Marlie coughed, choking on her own tears. "S-sorry for speaking without permission." She looked down at her hands, finding the cuffs gone and replaced with fresh bandages.

"Mar? You here with me? Never. You are never going to be near Alice again, I promise." Cedar hesitated a moment before holding Marlie's shaking hands. He felt his heart drop to his stomach when Marlie yanked herself away from him. "Sorry, shoulda asked first. Hey, lil' sis I'm never going to hurt you. It's all good., no need to ask here." He tried to offer a reassuring smile despite his worries, he knew how cruel humans could be and to see someone he thought of as family get hurt cut deeper than any of his own wound ever had.

Marlie nodded, slowly calming down from her panic as she kept her wings out of reach. "O-okay. Um, how-" she swallowed thickly. "H-how should I address you?" Marlie knew it was a risk to ask, however, it was worse than making a mistake. Mistakes were for humans and stupid ones at that. Miss Alice wanted everything perfect and a fairy has no excuse for less.

"Just Cedar is fine. Did you get hurt for mistakes, Marlie?" Cedar asked before he could stop himself. A small nod was all he saw before Dawn opened the door and asked him to leave while she treated Marlie's injures.

---

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[stillsimpingforaymeric]

Nightmare

Waking up was agonizing. There was a long, slow process, meandering through a sea of pictures, disconnected, haphazard, but all red and all painful. The bodies of people she did not recognize, which was worse than knowing - was she looking at a lover, a friend, family, or a stranger who’d had the grave misfortune of crossing her path? It was worse, not knowing. It was worse not having the true scope of her own monstrosity.

Some moments she fell, some moments she heard someone else’s slow breathing, some moments she could not move a single muscle. It felt like years she spent here, amidst nothing, before her eyes finally focused on the canopy of a tent above her, a warm arm slung across her belly.

Panic and relief hit her in rapid succession as realization dawned, though even if her hollowed out mind had robbed her of the memory, her current state of undress would have given her something of a clue as to where she found herself and why. She’d fallen asleep, after. Shit. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work. She had promised them all, long before Gale ever looked at her like that, back when… what was her name…

Alfira. The memory came back. It hurt, but she was grateful. Alfira. She wasn’t going to forget another name, another face. After that, she had promised to sleep out in the open, to be in sight of the watch every night. She had felt vindicated when she lost control again, when he had to wind ropes around her wrist and keep his distance just to prevent The Urge from burying her claws in his chest.

It was easier, to put it like that, to call it something other than her name. To make it sound like it wasn’t her. It wasn’t true, but it felt good to pretend, once in a while. 

On that first night, when he’d promised her the stars and she pulled him back down to the ground, she’d made sure to stay awake, to return to camp before dawn, so that someone could stop her. He wasn’t safe with her, not ever, not truly and she refused to risk his life for something as small as and pointless and wonderful as getting to fall asleep next to him, listening to his breathing, feeling the warmth of his touch, feeling safe and whole and normal. 

And yet she had. Stupid. Dangerous. Selfish.

But she did not wake up next to a cold, lacerated body. Instead, she found herself staring in enchanted wonder at a man who slept peacefully in the middle of the shadow curse, hair disheveled, half on his stomach and half leaning into her, as if seeking her touch even out of consciousness. 

He was also drooling on his pillow. She’d never seen anything quite so perfect. 

Sighing, she rolled over onto her side, gently grasping his arm and lifting it just enough for her to move into him, until she could tuck her head under his, mindful of her horns as she did so. Gale shifted with her, never waking, but readjusting his arm and muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously close to “Stop licking it.” She couldn’t help a snort, biting her lip. He was never going to let her live that down. 

She knew she wouldn’t fall back asleep, wouldn’t allow herself to, could get up now and start the day, or as close to day as they could get in this place, the sooner they’d lift the curse, find the Absolute, save the world. She could also stay here.

Stupid. Dangerous. Selfish. 

So she told herself that if she moved, he would surely wake (all evidence to the contrary) and that he needed rest (so did she) and so she had no other choice but to stay here, close her eyes and imagine herself somewhere else (but still with him), perhaps his tower in Waterdeep (he had a bed, somewhere, surely), sleeping in on a cool winter morning, feeling safe and whole and normal. It was easier, to think of it like that, to believe for a half hour or so that she deserved him, that she could find a way to redeem herself, that she was worth any of this. 

It wasn’t true, but it felt good to pretend, once in a while.

[lavenoon]

Reverse dawn wants to kiss Robin so bad he looks stupid. Robin is oblivious (un)fortunately

Anon I need you to know I am still absolutely losing it over this ask I got it yesterday but was too tired to answer, and sleeping did not make it any less funny

Boy messed up so bad scaring them he shot himself in the foot about any and all future flirting - any time Robin scoffs and turns away from him he sheds a little metaphorical tear as his fingers twitch at the futility. Robin, under the impression that Dawn is ruthless and unpredictable and most definitely only interested in taunting them, is completely unaware of how wrapped around their finger he is.

Y/N comes home with flowers one day and an expression promising murder, runs into Moon who is very confused -

"My coworker got me flowers. He obviously did that to mock me."

Moon, looking from Y/N to the ridiculously elaborate bouquet, connecting zero dots, just pities the poor sod so obviously vying for their attention and failing miserably. (Can't deny being relieved, however, because he also wants to kiss Y/N so bad he looks stupid.)

Bonus points if the night before Sun kept pestering him about "Do you think I should get Robin flowers as apology for scaring them back then and also to ask for a do-over" and Moon went "Sure, seems pretty straightforward to me there's no way they wouldn't get it"

[marwritesgood]

Peach | S. Basett

Pairing: Simon x WOC!Reader

Timeframe: Season One AU

Summary: Y/n tries to ignore her aunt’s words, while Simon prays he is not yet out of time.

PART ONE  //  PART TWO

masterlist

A/N: This fic is just over 8K words

I cannot thank you enough for receiving this mini-series with so much love and support! I am so grateful that so many of you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed creating it.

I hope you like this ending <3

Philippa was still standing on the steps outside her home when Simon arrived. 

He raced through gates atop his horse but, when he quickly realised Y/n was nowhere in sight, he came to a halt. A worker appeared beside him as he came down from the saddle, guiding the horse away so that Simon could approach Lady Bennet.

“Lady Bennet-”

“I take it you hesitated to come here?” Philippa questioned bitterly. She had made it quite clear to the Duke that time was of the essence. Yet, he stood, dishevelled and panting because he was late, despite his delayed best efforts.

“Lady Bennet, please help me,” Simon exhaled, taking his hat off swiftly and holding it to his chest. Philippa had begun walking towards her home before she turned around again.

“Grant me one reason as to why I should help you, your grace,” she sneered. “Did you not possess every available opportunity to make amends with my niece ever since her arrival in London?”

“I did,” he cried, desperate to obtain Philippa’s assistance. “I had every opportunity but, like the fool I am, I took each one for granted. I have been far too preoccupied with affairs I do not care for; I have stupidly disregarded that which matters most to me; my relationship with Y/n.”

He grew quiet for a moment, during which the only sound heard in the cortile was that of Simon’s panting, a consequence of his frantic outburst. Philippa’s cold and glaring expression remained unfazed. She could not yet decide whether she trusted him. 

Simon waited until he caught his breath to speak again.

For any other person in the world, he would uphold his reputation of being reserved and brooding. However, Y/n was not any other person in the world to him. She meant a great deal to Simon, and he was willing to disregard his typical persona, stoicism and all if it meant fixing things between them. 

Even if it meant a vocal revelation of how he truly felt.

“I... I love her,” Simon admitted, the crinkle between his brows a confirmation of his sincerity. Philippa’s scowl faded. “I know I am undeserving of your ladyship’s help... just as I am unworthy your niece, but I can no longer deny the true nature of my feelings for her. Nor can I begin to describe the regret I have for not being here sooner so that I could confess this to her.”

As silence filled the courtyard once more, Simon glanced at the floor beneath him, overcome with regret and sorrow. Had he reached the Bennet home quicker, it would have been easy. 

“Well then... you ought to begin thinking,” Philippa stated flatly, inciting confusion upon Simon. She smirked, amused by Simon’s response. He always was slow to catch on. “Your grace, if I am going to help you reach my niece, the very least you can do is think of what you will say to her.”

A wide grin slowly made itself apparent on Simon’s face. Suddenly the sorrow he felt previously was beginning to be replaced with a newfound hope- one he would, this time, indulge in and act hastily upon. He was not going to allow himself to repeat his same mistakes.

“Alright now,” she smiled. “I presume you have a plan in mind?”

Simon thought for a moment. While he feared he would miss Y/n’s departure, Simon, unfortunately, did not consider what he would do. He began panicking, straining his train of thought as he sought for even a scrap of an idea. 

Then Simon remembered how he found himself in this position. He recounted all the times in his past, where he hesitated. Where became so enveloped in all the matters that burdened his mind, he lost sight of what mattered most to him. 

He refused to fall subject to that mentality again.

Therefore, for the first time in his life, Simon turned to his instincts. Not his desire for perfection. Not his pride or his arrogance or his vengeance. What mattered most at that moment was how he could best apologise to Y/n and prove that he loved her dearly.

“Do you know the man whose proposal she is to accept?”

Philippa nodded. She narrowed her eyes at Simon, curious as to what he intended to do. Lady Bennet knew she would inevitably agree, no matter how strange the plan turned out to be, but she was still greatly curious and the slightest bit concerned.

“Can you delay him?” Simon asked. “By the time Y/n’s carriage reaches her home, it will be dusk; thus, I presume she will plan to meet with her suitor in the morning. I need you to delay that from happening.”

“And what will you do?” Philippa questioned. “Would it not be wiser for us both to leave immediately?”

Simon shook his head. He thought of the right way to phrase his answer. If Simon revealed his plan to Lady Bennet, he knew she would support him wholeheartedly. However, he thought it best to keep the better part of it concealed. It would have more effect that way, he believed.

“There are a few places I must visit beforehand,” he explained.

“You are asking me to delay Mr Graham so that you can visit a few places?!”

“I am asking your Ladyship to have trust in me,” Simon pleaded. “Hurting your niece is my biggest regret. I intend to atone for my mistakes, not repeat them.”

Philippa stared intently at the Duke. It was a massive ask of her; to leave her family momentarily and interfere with Mr Graham’s pursuits. However, every instinct she possessed led her to believe that Simon was sincere. The confidence he held gave her hope that his plan would work. She sighed.

“Then you must leave immediately,” Philippa ordered him. “Visit the places that say you must visit and then race hastily to my sister’s home. I will do my best to delay Mr Graham until then.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Simon cheered before doing just as he was told.

He raced towards his horse and climbed atop the saddle. Philippa dashed inside to organise yet another carriage headed to her hometown. Both equally determined to keep their beloved Y/n from accepting Mr Graham’s proposal.

***

The Y/l/n household was, needless to say, very much hectic. Y/n had arrived home the night before, hoping she would, at the very least, be able to have some sleep before the next morning. That proved to be impossible.

The words of her Aunt Philippa haunted Y/n during her journey home. Then, just as she feared, it continued to do so as Y/n tossed and turned in her bed. Once she finally began to settle, her mother barged in with sever different dresses for her to try on. 

“Sit up straight, dear.”

Y/n flinched at the sudden sound of her mother’s orders. She reluctantly obeyed and straightened her back. When Mrs Y/l/n turned back around, Y/n sighed exasperatedly, slumping her shoulders ever so slightly. Her hands curled into tight fists as she tried to keep herself from dozing off yet again. 

“I do not understand,” Mrs Y/l/n agonised as she paced the sitting room. This was an all too familiar situation for Y/n. “Mr Graham is known for being punctual, yet he is running terribly late.”

Y/n could care less that Mr Graham was late. Not while she was living off of less than an hour of slumber. 

“You don’t suppose I could have a scone while we wait, mama,” Y/n mumbled. She was not particularly hungry so much as she was desperate for some energy.

“Do not be silly, Y/n. You mustn’t risk staining your dress,” Mrs Y/l/n replied. Eager to make sure everything went perfectly, she sat beside her daughter and asked the same question she had asked every hour previously. “Now, have you prepared what you will say?”

“Yes, mama, for the fifth time, yes,” Y/n droned. Her exhaustion only intensified her irritability which her mother seemingly lived to test continually. “I don’t understand your concern with how I respond. It matters not how I respond but that I simply remember to say ‘yes’?”

On any other given day, Mrs Y/l/n would have scolded her daughter. However, for reasons unknown to Y/n, she simply sighed and took hold of her hand. 

“Words hold great power, dear,” Y/n’s mother explained simply. She glanced down at her daughter’s hand momentarily before meeting her gaze once more. “They are a valuable indicator of one’s character. How Mr Graham proposes to you will tell you of his attitude towards you and your future marriage. How you respond will do the same to him.”

Y/n nodded, knowing first-hand the amount of truth in her mother’s statement. 

She did not care for her response to him as she did not care for him or their future marriage. Y/n simply wished to move past what had happened with her and Simon. This was beginning to become clear to her.

“I will respond to him properly, mama,” Y/n assured.

Mrs Y/l/n smiled, lifting her hand to cup the side of her daughter’s face. It was slowly dawning on her that in only a matter of time, Y/n would be married. When Mrs Y/l/n sent Y/n her letter, she knew the issue of her daughter being unwed would resolve itself in one way or another. However, Mrs Y/l/n was taken by complete surprise when Y/n came home on her own accord. 

It was far too out of character for her.

She tried her best to look past it. Mrs Y/l/n rushed to get everything in order for Mr Graham’s arrival. However, it was becoming clear to her that she had been too preoccupied with doing so.

As Mrs Y/l/n struggled to find a way to question Y/n about her behaviour, Mr Graham’s carriage arrived outside her home. Y/n looked out her window and jumped to her feet. Before she could race to the door, her mother held her back.

“Before he comes in, dear,” Mrs Y/l/n began. “Are you... Are you sure you are ready for this? Is this truly what you want?”

Y/n scoffed. Her previous concerns about accepting Mr Graham’s proposal suddenly became easy to look past. Y/n’s resentment for her mother began to surface, adding much to her motivations to go through with marrying.

“Mama, please do not pretend to care about what it is I want.” 

Mrs Y/l/n had not expected her to react in such a manner. She was not prepared to have her mothering methods confronted. Y/n’s mother’s primary concern had always been ensuring her daughter marries. It gave Mrs Y/l/n significant discomfort to realise how this resulted in her overlooking what should have mattered more. 

Not to mention how she only came to realise this just as her daughter was about to agree to marry a man she expressed great disinterest in just weeks before.

Y/n rushed out of the room before her mother could say anything further. As she reached the hallway, Y/n watched the doors burst open. Much to her surprise, it was not Mr Graham alone who walked through. Instead, Mr Graham was with her Aunt Philippa, who relentlessly attempted to guide him in the opposite direction.

“Mr Graham, please, I must show you-”

“Lady Bennet, you have shown me enough gardens,” Mr Graham insisted, trying his best to contain his annoyance. “In fact, I am quite certain you have shown me almost every garden in town.”

“All except the best one, sir, which is located just outside the-”

“- Aunt Philippa, enough!” Y/n shouted. 

Mrs Y/l/n reached the hallway just as Y/n called her sister’s name. Mr Graham exhaled tiredly before holding his hands behind his back and regaining his composure. 

Philippa sighed. Her attempts at delaying Mr Graham by badgering him to stop at all 9 gardens on their way to her sister’s home all appeared to be in vain. Simon had yet to arrive, and it was clear they were out of time.

“Philippa?” Mrs Y/l/n said in shock. Her sister had always made an effort to give notice before visiting.

“Hello, sister,” Lady Bennet replied awkwardly, trying her best to force a smile. 

Y/n had been glaring at her aunt. 

She was furious that after she made clear her intention countless times to Philippa, her aunt still chose to meddle. Y/n felt more adamant than ever to go through, even if to simply spite her aunt. It was due time that they learned to refrain from making her decisions for her.

Even if it meant marrying a man she did not particularly care for.

She forced herself to appear alright, mainly in the hopes that it would influence her feelings. That it would obliviate her concerns. It was her last resort at being ok with what she was about to do. 

“Mr Graham,” Y/n called out. The man stood tall, prompting Philippa to grimace. “You may join me in the sitting room.”

She walked ahead of him, guiding Mr Graham to the room. Once he walked in, Y/n turned around and closed the door before returning her attention to him. She fiddled with her hands while he cleared his throat. 

Y/n was fixated by the words of both her mother and her aunt. She kept asking herself the same question Philippa had. Could she be happy? Could she possibly find any enjoyment in marrying a man like Mr Graham? In living an inevitable future with him?

Mr Graham was exhausted from the long journey he was forced to take with Lady Bennet. For the most part, his mind was blank, aside from his impending desire to return home.

“Is there anything you wish to say, Mr Graham?” Y/n asked. Mr Graham was taken aback. “Before I give you my response, that is.”

Y/n was resorting to humouring her mother’s advice. She wanted to see how Mr Graham was going to ask for her hand so that, this time, she could identify his intentions. Y/n wished to put aside the conclusions she reached about Mr Graham; he was arrogant and ignorant. 

She hoped he could prove that he had one if any, good qualities aside from possessing wealth. 

“Uhm-” Mr Graham coughed. “You will remember my father is the primary supplier of livestock commodities in our town.”

“Yes, I do remember-”

“By livestock, I am of course referring to domesticated animals raised in agricultural settings,” he continued, despite Y/n’s best efforts to get a word in. It seemed Mr Graham believed he had reason to take her for someone simple-minded; reasons Y/n did not care for but absolutely resented. “And by commodities, I mean the products-”

“-Yes, I am aware of what words mean, Mr Graham,” Y/n retorted.

“That you are,” he smiled, patronising her even more.

Outside the sitting room, Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n stood with their ears pressed against the door in the corridor. The more they heard Mr Graham speak, the more concerned they became for Y/n. Philippa’s stomach churned as she thought of her poor niece being wed to such a man. She could hardly believe she managed to last the journey there with him and not be at her wit’s end.

“I was recently made aware of the amount your father is offering for your hand,” Mr Graham stated, wincing as he did so. Y/n knew how small her dowry was, and she was annoyed that Mr Graham unnecessarily reminding her. “And you will be pleased to know that I am willing to look past it.”

“How charitable of you, sir,” Y/n muttered. Mr Graham did not catch on to her sarcasm. He was an easily distracted man, Y/n concluded. One need only groom his ego, even sarcastically, for him to be oblivious.

Y/n was reminded again of what her Aunt

“Yes, it is quite charitable of me,” Mr Graham remarked, smiling as he felt pleased with himself. “In fact, that is the very reason I first asked for your hand. Father believed it a grand idea that I marry a woman of your kind. Should attract a different demographic to choosing Graham as their supplier.”

“A woman... of my kind?” 

The Grahams were the primary supplier of livestock. However, the few other families in Y/n town, who were not white, found livestock commodities elsewhere. It was clear Y/n that they viewed her as a pawn in their pursuit of broadening their clientele.

Y/n could already foresee where the conversation was headed, and suddenly her aunt’s questions held all the more weight.

‘Do you truly believe you will be happy?’

It took her only a moment to think it over. There was no denying that Mr Graham possessed all the ignorance and arrogance Y/n suspected he did, so she considered if it was worth bearing. Would a mediocre future with him be worth having to endure his jabs at her identity, her class and her family?

Mr Graham and his father dealt with domesticated animals for a living. It was clear that they viewed Y/n just the same.

Thus, her mind was decided.

“I expected you to be grateful,” Mr Graham commented, confused as to why Y/n was not flattered that of all the two women who made eye contact with him at the town ball. It was she who received a proposal from him. “You do not exactly have an abundance of suitors lined up at your door. Not to mention, I was generous enough not to withdraw my proposal after you asked for... time to consider your answer.”

Out in the corridor, the two sisters exchanged glances. Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n both argued quietly over who was to barge in and reprimand Mr Graham.

“That is quite enough, Mr Graham,” Y/n hissed, beating both her mother and her aunt to it. Her mind was, after all, decided. 

Y/n had struggled for most of her life with control in that she had little of it. If it was not society dictating how she was to live and breathe, it was her mother. This time would be different, Y/n decided. 

This time, she would be taking control and making decisions based solely on her own input.

“Thank you for expressing your feelings, your family history and your intentions with such candour,” Y/n began sweetly. Just as she expected, Mr Graham took nothing but pride in what he believed was sincere gratitude. “And thank you for being so charitable as to offer a lowly woman such as myself a proposal of marriage.”

Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n listened in with concern. They both knew Y/n too well to believe that she send Mr Graham off with civility and decorum. Y/n was the least bit concerned for either.

“You have been so generous with your time,” Y/n continued. “Therefore, I will not keep you waiting any longer... Mr Graham, I will not be accepting your proposal.”

Y/n took great pleasure in rejecting his proposal. Mr Graham grew pale as he quickly realised what her answer was. He stood on the opposite side of the sitting room, yet Y/n was desperate to further away.

“You... You mustn’t be serious,” he exhaled dumbfounded. The man possessed a great ego when he first enters Y/n’s home. Thus she was determined to shrink, if not demolish it. 

“On the contrary, sir,” Y/n smiled, this time genuinely. “I am perfectly serious.”

“S-surely you have not considered the ramifications of denying my proposal,” Mr Graham reasoned. 

Y/n was far too accustomed to being lectured by white men on not considering her actions’ consequences. They, of all people, she believed, were the least bit qualified to talk another on such matters. Not when they are granted every luxury and advantage at birth.

“Miss Y/l/n, you must know, after two seasons of rejected proposals, it is doubtful you will receive another after me,” Mr Graham explained. He was merely adding insult to injury. “And with a dowry as small as yours, I predict your future will be bleak.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Y/n replied, her head held high as she knew Mr Graham was expecting her to be grovelling. “Perhaps I will not receive another proposal after you. Perhaps I will be doomed to live a life of struggle and severe austerity, but make no mistake Mr Graham. I would sooner commit to the life of an impoverished spinster than I would, ever again, entertain the prospect of being your wife.”

Y/n marched towards the door and swung it open, revealing Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n eavesdropping on their conversation. Y/n hoped that would be the case, as an audience’s presence prompted Mr Graham’s mortification to increase tenfold. 

“I must ask you to leave immediately.”

Mr Graham did not wait another moment. He just about sprinted out the door, determined to never step foot in the Y/l/n home again. Y/n stood in the hallway with a smirk and a proud glimmer in her eye. If she felt as a result of taking control, her only regret was not doing so sooner.

Perhaps Y/n would regret her decision later in her life. Maybe she only created more issues for herself than anything else. However, all that would be affairs she would attend to last, in the far off future. For now, she was happy. 

Y/n headed towards her bedroom without saying a word to her mother nor her aunt. She had not done so on purpose. She was simply desperate to change out of her corset and resume resting her fatigued body. Once Y/n was altered, she sat on the edge of her bed. As she let out an audible sigh, Y/n slumped her shoulders and fell back. 

She had never been so grateful for her mattress.

Y/n closed her eyes momentarily. She was very sleep-deprived, yet she was on an incredible high from the adrenaline of rejecting Mr Graham so explicitly. Before she opened her eyes, Y/n felt the mattress sink at her sides. As she opened her eyes, she realised both her mother and aunt were lying beside her.

“I must apologise to you both,” Y/n explained, reach her arms out to hold each of their hands. “I have caused you both a great deal of grief. And it all appears to be in vain now that I have rejected Mr Graham.”

Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n turned to face Y/n, both with the same expression. 

“You may be sorry for many things in life, dear,” Mrs Y/l/n began. “But you mustn’t dare apologise for denying Mr Graham’s hand... you mustn’t ever.”

Y/n smiled. She was unsure what motivated her motivated to have such a change in character. However, she was far too pleased with it to question it. 

“Any thought as to what you will do now, dearest?” Philippa asked. She looked over to her niece with her brows raised, and her sister followed suit. 

It was clear that neither of them could keep Y/n from doing what she wanted. Therefore, it was decided that both Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n would simply stand aside and hold her hand throughout it all. Y/n thought for a moment.

“Perhaps another season?” Y/n answered.

In an ideal world, Y/n would have opted for something different. Perhaps she would have embraced the idea of being a spinster. In perfect world, such a fate would not be so grim. However, that was not the world Y/n lived in.

And so she opted to embrace the best and only option she had.

“Truly, dear?” Mrs Y/l/n exclaimed. While she was overcome with excitement, she wanted to ensure it was her daughter’s genuine desire. 

“Yes, mama,” Y/n insisted, smiling weakly. She hoped in time the prospect would become more appealing to her. “-and it will be much different this time, hopefully for the better, as I am now willing to comply with you and your rules and your overprotective nature. I want it all.”

Mrs Y/l/n did not take offence. Instead, she simply laughed and leaned her head in to kiss Y/n’s temple. She had raised a mighty blunt and greatly opinionated daughter. 

Mrs Y/l/n was most proud of it.

“I must excuse myself,” Y/n’s mother said. She placed her arms behind her and lifted herself off Y/n’s mattress. “Your father will be delighted to hear the news, I am quite sure.”

Y/n laughed at her mother’s excitement. Once Mrs Y/l/n left to recount the morning to her husband, it was just Y/n and her aunt. 

“I hope you won’t mind me asking, dear,” Philippa whispered, inching closer to her niece. She feared the next subject of conversation would strike a chord with Y/n. “Has any of this changed your feelings... towards Simon?”

“No,” Y/n answered shortly, her voice neither louder nor quieter than previously. “He will soon be a married man, so it is most appropriate I refrain from paying him any mind so as to not remind myself of my feelings for him.”

Philippa huffed, torn as to whether or not she should tell her niece. Would doing so disrupt the duke’s plans? Would it not be better for Y/n to hear the truth from Simon himself when he eventually came? Would he ever arrive?

“I, however, must admit- whatever rage and anger I once held against him has since passed,” Y/n sighed. “You were right in what you said before... Although it will not be me who marries Simon, I do hope to marry someone like him.”

Someone like who he was before he became Duke Hastings, Y/n thought.

“You do?” Philippa smiled. She decided not to reveal anything to her niece quite yet. Lady Bennet was confident such a task should be carried out by Simon and him only.

“Hmm,” Y/n nodded. “Someone of good character and of a kind heart. A man who does not resent me when I raise arguments but rather engages in them.”

“It is the least of what you deserve in a husband, my dear,” Philippa replied.

The two of them shuffled to the top of Y/n’s bed, where her pillows laid. Both were exhausted from travelling in from London and enduring what had been a most eventful morning.

They both remained silent to get some sleep in before Mrs Y/l/n would eventually call them down for breakfast. However, just as Philippa began to drift off, his niece disrupted the quiet.

“Aunt Philippa,” she murmured. “I never did ask you what exactly compelled you to come... let alone badger Mr Graham as a means of delaying his arrival.”

Y/n was unsure what she was expected her aunt to reply. Philippa grew nervous as she tried to respond in a manner that would not reveal the real reason she came to her sister’s home.

“I-I,” Philippa stammered quietly. “-I simply could not sit idle... and let you accept Mr Graham’s proposal.”

Y/n hummed before turning to her side. It was a predictable answer, yet it left her with a bitter feeling of disappointment. She slept without  

Philippa sighed in relief before hoping that wherever Simon was, whatever it was he was doing that moment, that it would not hinder him any longer from finally reaching the Y/l/n home.

***

Y/n awoke from her nap to an empty bed and an open room. She was curious about where her aunt had gone, not to mention why her mother did not wake her for breakfast. The sky had darkened significantly since she first fell asleep, though Y/n was sure it was not yet evening.

She climbed out of bed and donned a simple dress. Y/n could hear the faint sound of her parents talking, so she suspected they were with Philippa. Afterwards, Y/n wandered down the steps of her home and headed to the dining room. The conversation grew quiet, prompting her to call out.

“Have you truly begun eating without me?” Y/n laughed as she pushed the doors open. 

As she stepped inside, a man stood from his seat- across the table from Philippa and Mr and Mrs Y/l/n. He turned to face Y/n with his hands held behind his back.

“Simon.”

Y/n was awestruck. All she could say was his name, and after muttering it quietly when he stood, she found herself left speechless. What could motivation could he possibly have to travel there from London. 

“His grace will be joining us for dinner,” Mrs Y/l/n explained, refuting Y/n’s last hopes that it was not yet evening. “It will not be ready for a small while, so perhaps you could walk him to the garden in the meantime.”

“‘Tis the best one in town,” Philippa commented, a reference to the wild goose chase she led Mr Graham on just earlier that day.

Y/n remained quiet, unsure as to what was happening. She expected her mother to be repulsed by the sight of Simon. Y/n had, after all, rejected countless marriage proposals for reasons involving him. However, she was not repulsed. 

She was smiling. Glowing, rather. Even Philippa and Y/n’s father seemed to be beaming despite sitting in silence. Y/n could not decide whether that should comfort her or worry her.

“He requests a private audience with you before dinner is served,” Mrs Y/l/n continued.

“H-He... does?” Y/n stuttered, looking at Simon in confusion. He appeared to be avoiding her gaze, which further provoked her curiosity.

“I do,” Simon replied shortly.

Y/n turned to her mother in confusion. Indeed, she would not send her unmarried daughter off, with an available man, on an unchaperoned walk without explanation nor context.

“I cannot possibly leave you to make dinner alone, mama,” Y/n stated. The thought of walking with Simon, especially after the nature of their last conversation, left her much unsettled.

“Nonsense, I will offer my assistance,” Philippa responded. Y/n narrowed her eyes at her aunt. She had always avoided being in the kitchen with her sister by all means necessary.

“It is decided then,” Mrs Y/l/n cheered, guiding Simon and Y/n towards the door that led to their garden.

“Mama, it looks as though it will begin to rain,” Y/n whispered, hoping to stop her mother but to no avail.

“You will not be far from the house, dear,” Mrs Y/l/n replied, opening the back door and guiding the two outside. “Should that be the case, you need only take a short walk back.”

Before Y/n could think of another way to avoid the walk, her mother rushed inside, slamming the door close behind her. There was no more avoiding, it seemed. Y/n sighed before reluctantly walking towards her mother’s botanical garden. 

He was initially quiet. Simon had rehearsed what he was to say several times before he arrived. However, it was not until he saw Y/n again that all his prepared words vanished from his memory.

Y/n was conflicted. She was overcome with a myriad of emotions, which always seemed to be the case for Simon. While she was still very hurt by his actions and was determined to voice her feelings, Y/n felt it necessary to first break the ice with civility.

“How long will you remain in town?” Y/n asked.

“I have not yet decided,” Simon answered, after a moment of deliberation. He believed it wise to tread lightly in their conversation, though he too was determined to let his feeling become known.

His answer left Y/n’s curiosity to grow. 

“Why not?” She queried. “I suspect Miss Bridgerton will be eagerly awaiting your return to London.”

Simon smirked. He missed her witty remarks terribly, just as he missed her company. Y/n had not intended for her response to land with such snideness. However, it was clear to her that Simon did not resent it.

“You suspect wrong,” he answered gleefully, catching Y/n off guard. Simon took amusement in her confusion but did not hesitate to clarify the situation. “She has already promised her hand to another... His royal highness Prince Friedrich. I was informed of the news this morning.”

“You do not seem upset,” Y/n commented as she studied Simon carefully. 

“That is precisely why I wished to speak with you,” he explained. 

Simon stopped walking, prompting Y/n to do the same. They stood by her mother’s hyacinths, specifically the purple ones. Simon took inhaled deeply as he prepared to explain himself and as he hoped, with all his might, that she might forgive him.

“I lied to you,” he began.

“Yes,” Y/n muttered quickly before Simon could continue. Had he genuinely come all this way just to recount their argument, she wondered. “I remember our conversation vividly.”

“No,” Simon cried. “What I meant to say was that I lied to you... when I told you that I was courting Miss Bridgerton and that I intended to marry her.”

Y/n remained silent, allowing Simon to continue.

“She approached me earlier this season,” he explained. “- with a proposition that I pretend to court her. She needed more suitors, and I sought to improve my public image.”

Y/n recalled the countless articles written about Simon, painting him as a stoic and brooding snob. It made sense that he wanted to change this portrayal, Y/n, though.

“I tried my best to put an end to our pretence earlier... on the day you approached me at Hyde Park, in fact,” Simon said. “However, Miss Bridgerton was adamant that it continues until she could attract the attention of Prince Friedrich. And I had already given her my word not to reveal our ruse to another soul.”

Y/n remained quiet as she took in his revelation. The more Simon spoke, the more Y/n understood why he acted so cold to her. He was always most irritable when he was hiding something.

“Peach,” Simon sighed. He reached out for Y/n’s hand, and, to his surprise, she did not pull away. “For all the pain and sorrow I caused you that night at the gala, I am so sorry.”

She squeezed his hand tightly as a way of comforting him. Y/n knew the way Simon could be so cruel to himself. Considering the impossible position he was placed in, she could only imagine the extent to which this had been burdening him. 

“While I wish I had been spared from getting hurt,” Y/n began. Simon winced but nodded. He, too, wished she had not been caught in the middle. “I do understand why you had to lie to me... and I think it unfitting if I were to continue to hold that against you.”

Simon exhaled in relief.

Y/n smiled, comforted by his reaction. She, too, was relieved. After the gala at the Danbury estate, Y/n deemed Simon a stranger, someone she could no longer recognise. Yet, as they stood opposite each other in her mother’s garden, Y/n felt she knew exactly who the man that stood before her was.

The two continued walking across her mother’s garden. After Simon thanked Y/n several times for being so understanding, she recounted her morning to him. Simon struggled to contain his laughter when Y/n explained the 9 gardens Philippa forced Mr Graham to stop.

“So what will you do now?” Simon asked curiously. 

“I will have to endure another season,” Y/n replied. “I have already promised mama I would comply with her this time around. Hopefully, my luck has not yet run out."

Simon nodded, though he resisted the urge to frown. She appeared to be excited. Hopeful, even. He worried this indicated a change in her affections for him. Nonetheless, he cast his worries aside for a moment. Y/n’s happiness was his primary concern.

Simon thought back to the story Y/n told of her rejecting Mr Graham’s proposal. In particular, he remembered the comment Y/n said he made regarding how dowry.

“If that is the case,” he began. “Then I insist on making a donation... to contribute to your dowry.”

Y/n’s feet came to a halt as she furrowed her brows in both shock and confusion. Instinctively, she began devising a way to reject his offer without offending him. Y/n was never oblivious to the significant difference in her financial standing to Simon’s, but she certainly never wanted to take advantage of it.

“It can remain anonymous,” Simon insisted. He knew his offer was far from appropriate as a woman’s dowry was her family’s responsibility. However, that was precisely what Y/n was to him: family. “If you are concerned about what others might say, I assure you I will personally see to it that the donation remains private.”

“Simon, no-”

“- Please, I insist,” he held firmly. Y/n continued to shake her head profusely, but Simon refused to give in. “It is the least I can do after playing such a significant role in hindering you from marrying these past two seasons.”

Y/n paused, taken aback by the fact he knew that. 

“Simon,” she began. Her tone was neither shocked nor angry. “You mustn’t hold yourself accountable for a decision I made. Yes, you may have been the reason for it, but it was I who ultimately made a choice... And I take full responsibility for the position I am now in as a result.”

Simon nodded sheepishly. 

“Regardless,” he said softly. “I still insist... You mean a great deal to me, Peach. Ensuring you have a befitting dowry is the least of what I owe to you, particularly after all our years of friendship.”

The grey clouds grew darker as the weather turned sour, and the day slowly came to an end. However, that quickly became the least of Y/n concerns. Her lips parted briefly, but she struggled to say anything. 

Simon let out a heavy exhale before reaching his hand into the pocket of his coat. He looked at Y/n and smiled. She still appeared adamant to deny his offer of making a donation to her father.

“Do you remember the story,” he began, “- of the first time we played in the maze at Lady Danbury’s home?”

Y/n chuckled, unsure whether he was serious or if the question were rhetorical. 

“Of course you do,” Simon continued, laughing all the while. “You recount it at every available opportunity.”

His laughter was disrupted by Y/n’s fist, gently colliding with his shoulder. 

“Please allow me to finish, Peach,” he cried as he rubbed his shoulder. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully but allowed him to continue nonetheless. “You recount it at every available opportunity, but you always failed to include the part of the story I favoured most.”

Y/n raised her eyebrows in surprise. 

“After I found you in the maze- crying hysterically, I must add,” Simon quipped. As Y/n raised her hand to repeat her previous action, Simon caught her fist in his hand. Their eyes locked as he did so, and the tension between them grew this. Y/n lowered her hand coughed awkwardly, prompting Simon to continue. “I took you to see Lady Danbury’s fruit orchids.”

Simon’s smile grew remarkably wide. He had purposely refrained from retelling his favourite part of the maze story to Y/n. He was most excited to finally do so.

“You ran straight for one tree in particular,” Simon said. Y/n’s brows snapped together as she tried to remember. “I picked some fruit, and we ate it beneath that tree. However, you were still quite upset, and that was when I assured you I never would have left you behind... Do you remember which tree we sat beneath?”

After giving it a moment of thought, Y/n gasped quietly when she finally remembered. She looked back to Simon and smiled. In a quiet whisper, she answered his question.

“Peach.”

Simon nodded. It was after that day that he refrained from calling Y/n by her name. After they left Danbury’s orchids when he chose to instead call her ‘Peach’ to remind himself of that day on of his promise not to leave her behind. Despite falling short on that promise, Simon was determined to fulfil it.

He took a step towards Y/n and slowly replaced his grin to express both sincerity and fear. Y/n studied him in anticipation of what he was to say next. Simon seemed greatly troubled by something, she thought.

“If you wish to find another suitor next season,” Simon started, unable to hide the sorrow he felt at imagining it. He inhaled sharply and, in doing so, forced himself to remain composed. “I will do everything in my power to help you in your pursuits. Whether that be in the form of financial support or advice. Whatever it is you may need from me, Peach... my answer will always be yes.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, and her mouth curled into a frown. She could see right through Simon’s attempts to his sadness. 

“But if there is any chance,” he question, his tone frantic and desperate. He inched forward slightly and deepened his gaze at Y/n before he continued. “If there is even a fleeting chance that your feelings towards me are... are as they were before, then please tell me now.”

Just as he finished speaking, droplets of rain began to fall. They grew bigger and more rapid as time went on, but neither Simon nor Y/n noticed. Both were far too concerned with the affairs of their affections for one another. 

Y/n held her breath as she looked at Simon. Earlier that day, she decided to enter her third season. She had finally come to terms with knowing that casting aside her feeling for Simon would be her best method of moving forward. Yet as they stood in her mother’s garden, she found herself with no choice but to confront them.

“They are,” she confessed, her voice almost overpowered by the sound of the rainfall, though just loud enough for Simon to hear. “My feelings for you, they... they have not changed.

Her words were music to his ears. Simon reached his arm out and took hold of her hand. He felt his heartbeat rapidly against his chest. Despite the cold and wet weather, Simon felt a warm sensation in his chest.

“I must assure you,” he spoke, glancing down at the sight of her hand in his. “This is not a result of impulse or of the heat of the moment. Rather, this is something I have anticipated doing, I... I have desperately hoped to be able to do for quite some time.”

“Simon,” Y/n quavered. “W-What are you referring to?”

Simon looked up at the sky. He laughed as the heavy rain showered over his face, and then he turned back to Y/n. She did not move from where she stood but, instead, studied Simon closely. Her mouth fell agape when, without a moment’s notice, Simon knelt down.

Y/n gasped. There was a loud slushing sound made as Simon’s knee sunk into the mud. He was unfazed by it, which made Y/n shock only grow. He couldn’t be, she thought. It was not possible. And indeed, if he intended to do as she suspected, he would live to regret it. 

In a swift motion, she too fell her knee. Standing up while Simon knelt before she felt all too overwhelming. Y/n was confident he was not serious, despite him expressing profusely that he was. Simon’s eyes grew wide as he looked down and noticed the mud-splattered across the hem of Y/n’s gown.

“Peach, your dress-”

“Never mind my dress,” Y/n croaked. “Simon, what are you doing?”

“What I should have done two years ago,” he replied instantly. 

Y/n clasped her hand over her mouth. Her hair and her clothes were drenched from the rainfall, as was Simon’s, yet neither seemed to notice. He reached out and took hold of her free hand.

“I know I am the least bit deserving of your hand, as well as of course your forgiveness and your friendship,” Simon began. “However, these past years away from you, and these past two days in particular... They have been pure torment. And I have since realised that I would be a fool not to make an offer of marriage to you and hope that you would be so kind as to accept it, because... Well, because I love you, Peach. Fervently so.”

“What... What about your vow to never marry?” Y/n asked.

Indeed he had not thought this entirely through, she wondered. This was the moment, she believed. The moment he would take back his proposal.

“You said before that I have the luxury to choose while you do not,” Simon answered. Slowly, he let go of Y/n hand and lifted it to her face, holding the side of her cheek tenderly. “Well... I believe it’s due time that my choices begin constituting to my happiness... and that of the only woman I love.” 

Tears welled up in Y/n’s eyes and began to trickle down her face as she wept. She felt it surreal, the fact that Simon was offering his hand to her. And as it appeared, she had run out of reasons to argue against it.

“I know I have caused you much suffering,” Simon sighed, rubbing his thumb gently across Y/n’s cheek, wiping her tears away while doing so. “But I am determined to spend the rest of my life atoning for it by doing everything in my power to ensure your happiness... That is if you will have me?”

Y/n thought of her mother’s advice earlier regarding how one’s words indicate one character and their intentions. She thought of how all her past suitors made proposals from a place of arrogance, how they all made the argument that their financial standing was reason enough for her accept.

That was not what mattered most to Y/n.

Love and happiness; that was what she sought most from marriage. After years of being told that to do so was naïve and pointless, Simon was offering precisely that. 

“Yes,” Y/n answered, laughing beneath her breath as she exhaled. She stood up and planted her feet firmly in the mud before reaching her hand down to help Simon do the same.

“Yes?” Simon repeated in disbelief. 

Y/n chuckled and helped him to stand, after which she reached her hands out and placed them on the sides of his face. Even in the pouring raid and even covered in mud from the waist down, he was still so beautiful, she thought. Simon precisely the same of her

“Yes! I... I will marry you,” Y/n declared, her smile growing wider as she spoke. She could not make that statement repeatedly when she would eventually share the news.

Simon wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He leaned closer to her slowly and kissed her sweetly. Y/n held the sides of his face firmly, pulling him even closer to her, causing him to smile against her lips. Shortly after, Simon slowly pulled away, leaving Y/n gasping for air.

“I am sorry it took me so long to do this, Peach,” he said softly, gazing apologetically at the woman he could finally address as his fiancee.

“It does not matter anymore, Simon,” Y/n replied, pressing her temple against his. 

He grinned before leaning in to kiss her once more. Y/n lowered her hands and left them placed against his coat’s lapels. She wished for the moment to last a lifetime. However, as the rain grew heavier and the sky grew darker, Simon pulled away again.

“Perhaps we should return,” Simon suggested, despite much enjoying being alone with Y/n. She immediately groaned at the thought of going back. “I imagine your mother will be quite cross if we miss dinner.”

“Simon... I have waited a very long time for this moment,” Y/n began. “I will not be rushed by you or my mama.”

Simon laughed before kissing her once again. 

When they finally walked back to the house, Simon continued to glance over at Y/n and at the sight of their hands intertwined. He thought of all the different ways things could have ended between them. 

What would have happened if she had accepted Mr Graham’s proposal or even that of her previous suitors? What would have happened if he did, in fact, marry Miss Bridgerton? What would have happened if he had just proposed to her when she first confessed her feelings to him? 

Simon wondered how many times things could have drastically been made different between them. He thought of how many choices, events and actions dictated whether they would ever be engaged.

And all he could do was smile at his beautiful fiancee and be completely and utterly grateful that this was how their story concluded.

@fuckoffthanos @awesomebooklover17 @shadowfoxey @eternallyvenus​ @smol-grandpa​ @deakesthegreatest 

[aeris-flores]

"I don't think you're a sloppy drunk, no," Aeris confirms. If anything, years would attest that it's him who would be if he had one too many cocktails. That streak of mischief in him striking up the constant desire to try any and everything handed to him in a red solo cup. Similarly to her brother, too, which is what had Aeris somewhat gravitate to Beau anything they hit the same L.A. parties.

What he'd give to go back and time and be there again, lost in the liquor and music until dawn and floating in his backyard pool under the palm trees fighting a wicked hangover.

"What I do think is one drink too many, aiming for a corner pocket — one specific corner pocket — might be enough of a challenge to give me a win, and from the losing side, I'll take what I can get." It wouldn't be a fair and honorable win though he has no qualms about it. The winning isn't as important as it is for him to hold onto this silly tradition, if he is being honest, but Aeris won't say that out loud.

It's different, now, without Beau, and there's a sort of guardedness about Bradley now. Which, okay, Aeris gets. Having an image to uphold can be stifling to a degree. One misstep and it's all tarnished. He learned how important that can be the day he was thrown out. Not even given an ultimatum, but tossed to the curb. He can only roll his eyes to moment the comment about the wings is made.

"I want the wings. I don't need your help with them, either." Aeris holds back a joke about the celery sticks that come with it, but that would be in poor taste. "Malibu's nice. Beachfront, or further off the shore?" With that storm in March, anything on the water feels like a risk. Who knows when Mother Nature wants to turn everything upside down on everyone again?

The two balls pocketed in quick succession earn Bradley a scowl as the game starts with Aeris already losing. "Not much, really. Running the shop takes up a lot of time. Between balancing the books and taking inventory in between my own clients..." The first being something that has taken him a lot of time to wrap his head around. He stubbornly refuses to hire someone to handle the finances, and it's been a bit of a shock to learn about how much overhead costs bring the gross profit of his earnings down even with a steady revenue coming in most days.

But his artists are paid, and no checks are bouncing, and in his short time of business ownership, Aeris feels he is getting his footing. It's more work than he ever wanted in his life, but it's probably his best bet at this point.

"You should come by and check it out. You don't have to get any ink, but it's mine, and you'll like my staff," Aeris suggests, moving to the pool table for his turn. Besides, it would look good to have someone more high profile walk in through the front doors. It might draw attention, even if it's just a visit and not an appointment.

with: @aeris-flores

"I know." She hums back in response, and honestly? She wouldn't want a game throwing for her, that'd remove half of the fun of the game. Keeping such a close score between them kept her on her a-game, a little friendly competition.

It was surreal, how people of her past could just whisk away the weight of the world for an hour. Like she was nobody, with no responsibility, just free to figure it out. Reconnecting with Aeris had it's other perks, part of her felt like Beau was about to walk through the door, just like he had when they'd all been teenagers.

( Not that that had ever been the case, Bradleys life was planned before she'd even taken a breath by herself. )

"Interesting tactic." She remarks with an air of seriousness that would concern someone who didn't know she was probably joking, words dancing off of the tip of her tongue as she cocks her brow ever so slightly. "— but you're denying my ability to handle myself." And handle herself she could, Bradley knew the importance of showing her best self to the world, even if that meant a lack of messy nights out.

"Yeah, you have to stick to that one." Probably one of her least favourites. Somehow it required a talent she didn't quite seem to possess all that well, but maybe she'd get lucky. At least until there was a lack of balls to pick from. "I don't eat wings." She answers, half-joking, she could eat wings, but that meant an extra half hour with her personal trainer in the morning, and that was on top of the extra half hour she'd already scheduled just to allow her to be guilt free on the beer.

She leans back against a ceiling beam, a swig of drink passing by her lips as she kept a close eye on the ball that Aeris had picked, an internal wince taking place when he seems to pot the ball ever so easily, but then he misses and that wince removes itself.

Shifting on the balls of her feet, Bradley steps towards the table, switching places with Aeris, her gaze flitting over balls so she could pick the easiest to pot. "Oh you know—" she begins, glancing up for a second "looking at buying property in Malibu." She's sure some people already know, she'd been spotted walking around with a realtor and rumours of her moving home had been swirling for weeks. "You?"

Leaning further into the pool table, she takes aim on her chosen ball and pots it in her allotted pocket with what looks to be much more ease than she feels, sure it'd miss. Same with the next, but then she gets cocky, missing the third.

[spinster-sisters]

Pushover. psh jwy

TW: exhibitionism, fingering, oral female receiving, dirty talk, praise, degradation, grinding, slight bondage, good ole fashion fucking, cock stepping apparently, daddy kink, mutual masturbation, probably other stuff that have escaped my mind cuz writing this felt like a fever dream. So wooyoung is involved pretty heavily involved in this, like many of the kinks listed are done on him and by him so there you have it. Also yeosang is directly involved for like 4 seconds, also please just assume any tags mentioned in the first part that are not listed here may also pop up.

Part 1 (this is a direct continuation of this timestamp)

WC: 5k words of pure smut.

-

You were hardly aware of your surroundings. Nestled into Seonghwa’s lap, your head fell back onto his shoulder and your eyes screwed shut. You could hear the garbled sound of your boyfriend’s voice rumbling next to your ear, but the slim fingers working in and out of your wet hole stopped any thoughts from entering your brain. Your panties had been pushed aside only enough for him to slip two fingers inside you but you were already keening.

Seonghwa knew how to work you, knew how to make you fall apart and he would usually take his time doing it. Normally you had to put in the work for this kind of treatment, you would have to be especially good and listen to him well during the day, a single misstep or disobeyed words would leave you hopeless, but you had gotten very good at behaving. Why would you when he treated you so well? Not to mention that Seonghwa had something to prove today, without an exchange of words you already knew to be on your best behavior today.

“So what do you say, Woo? It’s your call.” Seonghwa spoke with a cool calm tone. His free hand tapped your side and you knew he wanted your attention for the next part, so your head lifted up and you pulled your eyes open to face the room.

Seven pairs of eyes were glued to you and your boyfriend, all in various stages of embarrassment to downright turned on, but the ones that caught your attention were none other than Wooyoung’s. Because it seemed for the first time the man was at a complete loss for words. His mouth was flapping open and closed like a fish out of water but his complexion was suddenly very pink. He was watching with careful eyes the way Seonghwa’s fingers slipped in and out of you, each time pulling more wetness from you, where it pooled on Seonghwa’s pant leg and made his fingers glisten.

“Are you going to answer me? I don’t appreciate being ignored Wooyoung.” Seonghwa’s voice sounded again, this time with a much steelier tone. Snapped out of his reverie Wooyoung’s eyes flung up to your boyfriend's hard gaze and he made a confused noise. Wooyoung’s body twitched at Seonghwa’s disappointed sigh and somewhere in the room, you heard Mingi muttering to Jongho.

“I asked you a question Woo, do you have an answer?”

Wooyoung’s eyes flitted around the room, desperately looking for aid in the faces of his friends, but none came. They seemed perfectly content to watch the loud boy struggle for words. Eventually, he looked to you for help with pleading eyes, you weren’t quite sure what he wanted you to do but before you could even ponder Seonghwa slipped another finger inside you, stretching you open, even more, making your lips fall open with a pleased sigh and your brain clouded over again.

“Don’t look to her for help, she listened well and is getting her reward. You can’t possibly expect her to risk that to help you. Now, I don’t like repeating myself Woo, so I’m only going to do it once. Do you still think I’m too much of a pushover?” Seonghwa spoke with icy venom.

Wooyoung frantically shook his head ‘no.’ You almost felt sorry for the man when your boyfriend's face turned to stone. Wooyoung noticed it too, and in a moment of frantic panic he realized his mistake and pushed out the word “No!” With perhaps a little too much force. Your head turned to look at Seonghwa’s sharp side profile. He looked very pleased with himself. Rightfully so, taking charge was his forte in times like these.

Seonghwa returned your gaze with a smirk. Using his free hand he gently took your chin between his fingers and pulled you in for a deep kiss. The hand working inside you slowed it is ministrations, but you knew better than to voice your disapproval. Seonghwa’s lips effortlessly urged yours to open and his long tongue slipped between them. Seonghwa’s kisses were always so, strong? He put so much force into every press of the lips and every swipe of the tongue head spun with excitement. Your eyes feel shut almost immediately, moving your mouth gently along with your boyfriend.

It seems you got a little too lost in the feeling of the kiss and the gentle push of the hand working inside you because you were slowly becoming more and more vocal with each passing second. What started as soft groans were now developing into full moans that were only slightly muffled by Seonghwa’s lips. But a sudden squeal from across the room drew both of your attention. Seonghwa broke the kiss to peer across the room at none other than Wooyoung, whose pink complexion had turned bright red since you last looked at him. Also notable, was the way he kept clenching his thighs together and making small grinding motions.

He wasn’t completely alone in this, one quick glass around the room showed you that all of your friends seemed to be enjoying the scene before them, many of them sporting hard dicks of their own (San and Hongjoong especially had taken to slowly palming themselves over their jeans) but none seemed to be quite as affected as the boy directly across for you.

“Getting impatient?” Seonghwa asked with disinterest.

“No,” Wooyoung replied, trying to match your boyfriend's tone but failing miserably.

“We’ve barely started and you're already rutting against the floor like a dog, are you sure this isn’t too much for you?” Seonghwa asked in a tone of mock concern. Seonghwa pulled his fingers from you to instead gently circle your clit with care. You. Squirmed again. The truth was you were remarkably close to the cumming. A fact Seonghwa probably knew. You tried to reassure yourself, knowing that in the current circumstances a high reward was coming your way soon, but the sudden emptiness was disappointing none the less and while it showed on your face you dared not make a sound.

“Get on with it then,”

You winced. Knowing the kind of reaction Wooyoung’s words would bring. Seonghwa’s face hardened. Much darker than you had seen in a long time. One quick glance to the side told you that the younger boy's word had left Seonghwa seething. He stayed silent for a moment, but not inactive. His fingers dancing across your folds seemed to gain a sense of purpose, and with sudden and unexpected vigor, Seonghwa worked them in a way that made your legs twitch and your hole clench around nothing.

“Can I, please?” You asked aloud, though it was clear who you were talking to.

“Go ahead little one,” Seonghwa encouraged with a surprisingly gentle tone.

A loud whine came from your open mouth and the room watched with rapt attention as your body came undone. Even Seonghwa pulled eyes dangerous gaze away from Wooyoung who had been gulping with fear, to watch with soft eyes at the way his pretty girl fell apart for him.

It must have been a truly lewd sight. Your body spasming freely as your glistening core twitched, not to mention your chest covered with marks given to you by the very man who caused your pleasure. The helpless cries were only the cherry on top to the room of onlookers, Yunho had even let out a low groan of his own. But the man of the hour, as it seemed, Wooyoung had returned to his stunned silence, watching the way Seonghwa continued to toy with your clit, prolonging your orgasm as much as possible for the room to enjoy.

Seonghwa turned back to Wooyoung and stopped his work on you only after the majority of your orgasm had passed, leaving you breathless and panting. You felt Seonghwa’s hard cock digging into your ass, but Seonghwa had other matters to attend to first. He fixed Wooyoung with a hard gaze and gave a simple command.

“Come here,”

Wooyoung froze at his words, unable to look away. Yeosang, who had been enjoying Wooyoung’s torment far more than the others urged his forward with a small push on the shoulder, which snapped him out of his trance, and after a moment he slowly crawled across the floor to sit on the floor before you.

Everyone in the room seemed shocked by this turn of events, yourself included, but one quick look from Seonghwa’s encouraging smile settled your nerves. Besides, your brain way still basking in the aftermath of your orgasm so this all seemed much more exciting than you would admit out loud.

With a pinch on your outer thigh from Seonghwa your legs instinctively opened wider, giving Wooyoung an eye full of your now slightly swollen core. Seonghwa reached between your legs and spread your pussy open, exposing your still pulsing hole to the man on the floor, and with one simple sentence, changed the tone of the night for good.

“Get on with it then,”

“What?” Wooyoung sputtered helplessly, looking up to your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Your attitude has done nothing but remind me how wonderfully obedient my pretty girl is,” as Seonghwa spoke you subconsciously cuddled further into his chest, his eyes flicked to you and he gave you a reassuring squeeze on your neck with his free hand, “and I think she should be rewarded before I deal with that mouth of yours.”

Wooyoung’s eyes shown with realization as it finally dawned on him exactly what his teasing had gotten him into. His eyes flicked around to the faces of his friends only to see them waiting expectantly for Wooyoung to do as he was told. He looked back to Seonghwa and opened his mouth, to apologize, to beg, to l say anything at all, but no words came out. Seonghwa frowned at him.

“Don’t you think she’s been good?” Your boyfriend asked accusatorily.

“Yes, she has-“ Wooyoung started.

Seonghwa’s finger slipped down to drag through your folds and collect the wetness gathering there. You were still incredibly sensitive from your orgasm and the movement made you shudder a gasp. Wooyoung’s eyes followed the action with a downright hungry gaze but something was still restraining him from acting. Seonghwa held out his wet finger in front of the boy's face, and Wooyoung couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight.

“I’m not going to say it again. Get. On. With. It.”

It seemed whatever defiant streak had been holding the boy back had finally broken. Wooyoung’s head snapped forward and took the Seonghwa’s long shining finger into his mouth and sucked it clean. A loud whinny groan came from the boy instantaneously and after a moment his lips pulled away with a loud pop. With his new resolve Wooyoung’s eyes zeroed in on your face blushing face and with an incredibly what look his eyes snapped back down and he dove in.

An unapologetic scream ripped from your open mouth. The first sensation you felt was pain, you have only fully come down from your high a minute or so prior and your clit was still incredibly sensitive as Wooyoung attached his lips to your cunt and rolled his tongue over the bud repeatedly. But the longer he kept at it, sliding his tongue over the length of your core in a wide lick, the more the full pain turned into biting pleasure.

“You look so pretty like this baby,” Seonghwa muttered encouragingly in your ear, but still loud enough for the room to hear over the obscene slurping noises Wooyoung was now making as he sucked at your entrance. “Doesn't that feel nice?”

Depends on how you define nice really, it felt like all too much all at once, it hurt yes, but every swipe of the younger boy's tongue brought more wetness out of you and made your body twitch and writhe with the slightest movement. Honestly, you should have been used to this by now. Seonghwa loved to do this to you, overstimulate you for hours till there were tears in your eyes and you had lost control of your limbs, he thought you looked best when completely at his mercy. But this was only your first orgasm, you had been trained well enough to keep some of your composure despite the abuse your aching core was suffering at Wooyoung’s hand. You turned to Seonghwa’s satisfied face, and gave him a weak smile,

“Feels good, Daddy.”

Somewhere in the room someone let out an “oh fuck,” and Wooyoung groaned particularly loud directly into your pussy and the vibrations traveled up your spine like lightning. Your mouth fell open as you looked into Seonghwa’s eyes with a dazed look. Your hips arched off your boyfriend's lap. It was Wooyoung who made the first move to push your hips back, eager to have his mouth back on you, but he had no sooner touched you than Seonghwa slapped his hand away from your body.

Wooyoung pulled away from your core, his chin dripping with your juices and his eyes shining with confusion. Seonghwa took your hips into both of his hands and pulled you back, flush against his lap and still hard cock, he then fixed Wooyoung with a glare.

“Your not here to touch. Make my baby girl cum in the next five minutes and I might just go easier on you.” Seonghwa spat.

Wooyoung blinked at him, before giving him the sweetest smile he could muster.

“Yes, Daddy”

This took you and the rest of the room by surprise. But you didn’t have time to ponder before Seonghwa took the boy by the roots of his hair and pulled his face forward into your swollen cunt.

“Times ticking, little boy, better get a move on.”

And so he did. Wooyoung ate you out with a burning passion you had never quite experienced. Seonghwa preferred to take hours going down on you, purposely going a slow and steady as possible to build up extremely powerful orgasms that would last for minutes. This was entirely different. Wooyoung was being incredibly messy. Wet sounds echoed around the room and into your ears, he seemed to be trying to eat you alive with the way his mouth moved desperately around your folds. His tongue had made its return to your clit. He sucked the bud between his lips and rolled it around with his tongue in such quick tight little circles your brain spun and if it weren’t for the iron grip one of your boyfriend's hand still had on your hip your sure you would flailing around like a madwoman. You certainly sounded like one with the way endless cries, whines, and groan spilled from your lips in increasing volume. Wooyoung had a clear goal, Seonghwa had given him five minutes? He would do it in three.

You were nearing the end of your rope, your entire lower half seemed to be vibrating with numb pain and pleasure it was almost unbearable but somehow nowhere near enough.

“Daddy? Can I cum please?” You spoke in a shattered voice. Seonghwa, who still had his hand twisted in Wooyoung’s hair looked down expectantly at the boy, who was already peering up at your face with wide eyes. Both you and your boyfriend watched as Wooyoung slid his tongue into your hole and began fucking it in and out of you in time with your breathy gasps. Your head flipped frantically to search your boyfriend's eyes, begging for permission.

“Please, please, Daddy, I can’t hold-“

“You can cum baby,”

And that was all it took. You practically screamed. Your eyes went white as your head fell back again. Having lost all control of the movement of your limbs Seonghwa took his hand from Wooyoung’s head and used both to hold your spasming body close against his. Your brain had gone fuzzy and the only two things registering in your brain were the gentle praise being whispered into your ear and the beat of Seonghwa’s heart against your back from how closely he held you.

Your recovery to much longer this time. To be perfectly honest, in your whacked-out brain it could have been hours.

Slowly you came back to reality. When you opened your eyes the first thing you saw was Yunho from across the room, he gave you a reassuring smile but it was offset slightly by the way his hand was down his pants, nevertheless you smiled back. You laid limp and spent across Seonghwa’s lap. His arm had come around your waist to hold you up and his other hand was rubbing soft circles on your inner thigh. He gave a gentle kiss to your temple as you stirred, leaving butterflies in your stomach. Shifting slightly so you sat sideways on his lap you curled yourself into him with an affectionate purr.

And then there way Wooyoung. He sat on his knees with his hands on his thighs looking up at you like he won a prize.

“You taste good,” he said with an almost happy hour lucky smile.

“Did you like it, Woo?” San asked from behind him, San was sporting his own wide eyes and looking overly jealous about the whole thing.

Wooyoung spun around to look at his best friend and spoke enthusiastically,

“She tastes so good Sannie, really, it was so much fun!”

“Don’t get too excited Woo, we’re not done yet.” Seonghwa chided. Wooyoung whirled around to face him.

“Didn’t I do good?” He asked with a confused look.

You nodded absently as Seonghwa spoke.

“Yea you did good, but that doesn’t excuse your attitude earlier. You still need to learn some respect. I’m sure our friends would agree all this attention you’ve been getting has gone to your head.”

Yeosang and Jongho snickered in agreement. Wooyoung turned to shoot them a glare but it was cut short by a strangled moan. Seonghwa had pressed the heel of his shoe onto the swollen tip of Wooyoung’s cock through his jeans. And to your surprise, Wooyoung’s hips bucked up into the sole of his shoe. Your brain short-circuited.

Wooyoung started to move away but Seonghwa took hold of his hair again and kept him in place.

“What’s the matter woo? Embarrassed? Embarrassed you almost got yourself off on Daddy’s shoe?”

Wooyoung shook his head no, but Seonghwa only dug his heel in harder and Wooyoung couldn’t help but buck against his shoe again with a pained moan. Your legs were clenching together as another pool of arousal pooled between them. Here’s the deal, you had always admired Seonghwa’s incredible level-headedness. In fact, it was one of the best qualities you could ask for in a lover. But for months now, you had been hoping for the chance that Seonghwa would show his true colors to the rest of the group. The idea had been a fantasy of yours for such a long time, but seeing it, here and now, and like this? Not to mention you had always wondered just how far Seonghwa would go if someone disobeyed him, perhaps you didn’t have the guts to do it yourself, especially since being good reaped such high reward, but this was far more than you ever imagined. You doubt whether you had ever been this turned on in your life.

Seonghwa noticed your reaction, of course, he could always read you like a book. He glanced around the room to the hungry faces of your friends till he found who he was looking for and locked eyes with them with a smirk.

“Yeosang, think you could help me for a moment?”

Yeosang returned the smirk and the room watched with bated breath as he made his way over to the scene, eyes zeroed in on Wooyoung’s mortified face.

“Who knew Wooyoung was such a pain slut.”

Yeosang’s voice was as cool as a cucumber, and if it wasn’t for the bulge in his pants you would think he was talking about the weather. Seonghwa dug his heel into Woo one last time before spinning the boy around to face Yeosang by yanking the hair in his grip. Wooyoung was whining pathetically at it all. Your hand was placed on Seonghwa’s hard chest. He glanced at you with a promising smile at your desperate face.

“Not had your fill yet, little one?” He asked you with a smirk. You shook your head ‘no.’

“No Daddy, you make me so needy.” You reply with wide eyes and a slight whine, grasping the fabric of his shirt in a tight fist. He grinned at you before turning to Yeosang again.

“I think it’s finally time to fuck my baby girl, but I don’t think Wooyoung has learned his lesson yet,” as he spoke Seonghwa began fiddling with his belt, pulling through the loops of his jeans. Handing the belt to Yeosang he continued, “Do me a favor, tie him up, make him desperate, don’t stop till he begs.”

Yeosang accepted the challenge with a smile. Seonghwa’s attention was finally on you and you alone. With his help as your body was still weak, he adjusted you to straddle his hips facing him. You looked a mess surely, there was no way you looked anything but obscene and sweaty, But Seonghwa took in your face with a smile.

“You look so pretty like this baby girl” As he spoke, Seonghwa’s hand came to your ass and kneaded it in his palms. The room could no longer see your face, but they could most definitely see this, and likely your still leaking cunt.

Directly behind you, you could hear rummaging noises and the distinct clink of a belt being done up. A quick glance over your shoulder showed you that Wooyoung was now facing the room, with his hands bound behind his back and a pillow between his legs, Yeosang sat to his side clearly satisfied with his work. After taking it in you turned back to Seonghwa who looked pleased himself.

“You’ve been so good baby, want Daddy to fuck you? Nice and deep how you like it?” You practically purred at his words. It’s true so far you had enjoyed yourself, but there was nothing quite like when Seonghwa filled you up with his cock.

“Please fuck me Daddy” you whispered, leaning in close to him with your biggest doll eyes, and your hands gripping his shoulder. Seonghwa smiled at you, content with your answer.

A moment later he had freed his duck from his jeans and was stroking it leisurely. Your mouth watered. Oh, the way he could make you feel, how many times he had made you cum. As Seonghwa sunk into the couch, taking a moment to watch you squirm on his lap he truly looked too powerful. The calm in the sea of chaos that had unfolded that night, it was unfair how he made your heart skip a beat. With one quick glance over your shoulder, he called out to Wooyoung one last time.

“I’d start doing as you were told Wooyoung, wouldn’t want the others to get impatient with you,”

At that, you heard the first grunt of Wooyoung grinding helplessly on the pillow, then whimpering at how the surface was too soft to gain any friction over his pants. The poor boy was at his wit's end.

But your attention was drawn back to the man in front of you before you had time to feel sorry for Wooyoung. One of his fingers had slipped inside you once again to test the waters. You flinched at the intrusion, your body was utterly spent, and the overstimulation would be hell, but as God, as your witness, you were going to take your boyfriend's cock tonight.

“Are you sure your ok baby? Wouldn’t want to push you too far after the night you’ve had.” He spoke with mild concern, but he already knew the answer.

“No! I want to! I can take it!” You spoke with urgency.

“Absolutely sure sweetpea?” He asked one last time. Your hand gripping his shirt twisted and shook. You looked at him with the most pleading look you could muster.

“Please fuck me, Daddy.”

“Ok then,” he replied with a smile. Not once today had you forgotten your manners or rules, after dealing with the whimpering boy behind you for an evening he was glad to have his perfect baby girl still being as good as ever.

Seonghwa hoisted your hips to be level with his. Seonghwa had a thing about eye contact while he fucked you, so you did your best to not break it as the tip of his cock teased your entrance.

To be completely honest, but the focus of the rest of the room seemed to now be on Wooyoung, who was still rutting against the pillow like a dog, and they all seemed to be enjoying the show far too much to notice the tender way Seonghwa pulled your body down flush against his hips and down onto his cock. Although the broken whipper that came from you at the feeling overwhelming sensation did turn a few heads.

Your knees were shaking and your hands trembling. You had been right, the overstimulation was making it too hard to move on your own. But Seonghwa was attentive as always. He wrapped an arm around your waist and used it to slowly work you up and down on his cock. Each thrust he made felt like pins and needles in the best way possible. After Seonghwa had worked up a steady rhythm a numbing pleasure had already begun to build. Looking deep into your boyfriend's eyes you placed and hand on your tummy and after moving it around for a bit you could feel him moving inside you. You groaned out, this position had always been the best for deep penetration anyways.

“Daddy I can feel you inside me,” you whipper as he picks up speed. The room was beginning to sound like a symphony of lewd cries and squelching noises coming from both you and Wooyoung. Not to mention the panting and groaning coming from the others in the room, who had lost any semblance of shame and were jerking off freely to the unexpected yet beautiful sight. The other boy's eyes kept flicking back and forth, unable to decide which one was more arousing to watch. Many of them had already gotten themselves off before now and were now sporting half-hard cocks as they were faced with the delightful scene.

“I know baby girl, I know how much you love to be stuffed full of cock. And now everyone else knows too.” Seonghwa replied clearly satisfied with himself. His hand came up to your jaw and he delivered a particularly hard thrust and pulled your hips down to match it. You were already losing focus of the world around you and the pleasure was mounting rapidly. At the force of the thrust, your eyes almost dropped closed but Seonghwa pulled your head forward and they opened a bit wider.

“Now everyone knows how good you are for me, baby. My good little girl, who loves taking my cock.” Seonghwa was speaking in such a low grumbling voice it was almost like he was talking to himself rather than you like he was reminding himself of what he had accomplished today. You could tell that after waiting all night for stimulation he was also getting close to his own edge, and if you listen to the whiny panting of the boy behind you you could tell he was getting desperate for the release that would never come from the pillow.

You almost lost eye contact again when Seonghwa’s thrusts became sloppy. Increased pace but with less consistency was the tell-tale sign that Seonghwa was going to cum, but luckily for him, it was this exact treatment that made your head spin. Your lower half was numb with biting pleasure and it was all you could do to keep your eyes open to watch the sweat dripping down Seonghwa’s forehead as he carried on with determination. The others had caught on to what was about to happen and many were now speeding up their ministrations to themselves to climax at the same time as you and your boyfriend.

Seonghwa’s hand wound its way into your hair and used it to crash your lips onto his is a heated, wet, and messy kiss. Any second now and you would lose yourself to the pleasure. You detached your lips just enough to pant into Seonghwa’s lips,

“Daddy, in cumming”

“Damn right you are,” he moaned in response.

It was wise of him to reattach your lips before you came undone. Even with him muffling your noises there was no way the sounds you made didn’t echo around the room and ring In everyone’s ears. Seonghwa kept his pace, pushing more and more whinnies out of you till you almost jumped away from him in overstimulation, butter grip on your waist didn’t let you get far. There were tears in your eyes by the time Seonghwa finally came. Your orgasm had turned silent almost immediately after and your mouth hung wide open in an empty moan. Your brain had all but shut off when the feeling of your boyfriend's cum spilling into you registered into your brain.

Saying you blacked out would be a strong word. But when your eyes fell closed they didn’t seem to want to open. You and Seonghwa stayed connected for what seemed like an eternity before he pulled out of you with a groan and laid you gently down onto the couch to his side.

You were dead weight at this point. But when you felt Seonghwa stand up you pried your eyes open the slightest bit once you realized that the unmistakable noises of a begging Wooyoung had filled your ears.

Seonghwa walked around to stand in front of him. Most of the others in the room were now basking in the afterglow of their own orgasms but had perked up to watch.

“Please, please, please, Daddy. Please let me cum. I promise I’ll be good, I promise I won’t bother you as much, I promise, please-“

Wooyoung ramblings we’re cut short by Seonghwa taking hold of Wooyoung’s head and turning it up to look him in the eyes.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Seonghwa replied. Wooyoung gasped a sigh of relief. Seonghwa motioned for Yeosang to come over and untie the poor boy and hopefully get him some relief. But Seonghwa didn’t care about that part, his eyes were now back on you. His sweet perfect, obedient little girl.

-

Tag List: @deja-vux @txtbbys @darlingmulti @emotionally-intellectual @mingishoe @eonghwa @galaxteez

@a-soft-hornytiny @yunhospuppy @barnesbabee @woowommy @hyetiny @multidreams-and-desires @spacepiratehongjoong @pikacuuuuuuu

if your wondering why your tagged, its either because you expressed interest in a part two or are otherwise a homie or I would like you to be a homie and this is my olive branch

[therealvinelle]

do you have any thoughts on bree tanner?

On Bree Tanner herself, not so much. I did read her book, and from my recollection (I lent it to a friend who never gave it back. And I’m pretty sure she didn’t even read it(!)) Bree is pretty much what she’s presented as. 

She’s not stupid, but she’s not particularly intelligent either, she’s nice, but not a saint. She has been a vampire for only a few months, but she has already lost her empathy for humans. She’s an introvert who cares deeply for her friend Fred and crush Diego. She was never inclined to fight anybody, and spent the newborn battle just sort of mingling in quiet terror.

She’s a sweet person I’m sure would have made a pleasant addition to the Cullen coven, but ultimately she’s not remarkable.

When it comes to Diego, her supposed mate... hm. For those who didn’t read the book, Riley told the newborns they had to stay in the shadows or they’d burn in the sun. Bree gets a huge crush on one of the other newborns, and they find out vampires actually sparkle. This changes everything! Diego goes to tell Riley about the sparkling. Diego goes to live on a farm after that. No, really, that’s pretty much what Riley tells everybody. Diego is fine, he’s on a very special assignment, next question. Bree eventually figures out that Diego is dead, and her grief combined with a lot of other factors lead to her concluding life is miserable. She dies thinking “Oh well, guess I had a good run.”

Not unsurprisingly, I not only don’t believe in mates, but I also don’t think Diego was anything close to it for Bree either. They were close friends, Bree found out he was dead, and had no time to process it. More, vampires feel very strongly, and this was the only truly emotional event to befall Bree. It knocked her out completely. So, that she then decides she doesn’t mind dying because there’s no point living in a world without Diego seems to me to be a reaction born of her being young (both for a vampire and a human), emotionally inexperienced, and having been hit by this news less than an hour earlier. Had she lived, she would have been just fine.

So, those are my thoughts on Bree Tanner as a person.

Bree Tanner's impact is a different matter.

I think her death was one of the catalysts for the plot of Breaking Dawn.

The vampires in Seattle all died, Victoria included. There were no one left who knew Bree, and her life would have been a moment lost in time, like tears in the rain (Sorry, couldn’t resist).

But there were the Cullens. More specifically, Carlisle.

Carlisle had spent his formative years in Volterra, and parted with Aro in friendly terms. He remained fond of Aro, and continued to think highly of him. He and Aro would have spoken of the Volturi, of the Volturi mission, of how such a law is enforced, and it is prudent to also assume that Carlisle would have witnessed at least a few trials. He came away from all that thinking of the Volturi as strict, but fair rulers. 

Jasper, by comparison (I’m bringing him in because I think he’s more representative of how your average vampire who hasn’t been Aro’s boytoy for decades would view the Volturi), shivers in fright at the mere thought of the Volturi. To him they were executioners. But, again, fair. You break the law, and the Volturi descend upon you like God of the Old Testament.

Then cut to Eclipse, Victoria’s got a newborn army wreaking havoc in Seattle, attracting a lot of attention in a developed country in a time of globalized news. They’re on CNN daily. They might as well write “Fuck the Volturi” in the sky.

And the Volturi do nothing.

Now why, Carlisle and his family wonders, would they do such a thing?

Edward has all the answers, of course - that Aro is choosing not to intervene because he doesn’t like how large and powerful Carlisle’s coven has gotten, and Victoria’s newborn army will take care of that for him. Edward also goes on about how Aro desperately wants him and Alice by his side, which does prompt an “... you sure about that?” from Carlisle, but ultimately Aro’s inaction on the subject speaks for itself and Carlisle can’t make any excuses for it.

Regardless of Aro’s motives, that the Volturi would not be coming to enforce their own law became very clear. As a result of their inaction, Carlisle was forced to betray several of his own principles. He had to ask Jasper to teach the family how to kill others, he had to accept the aid of teenagers who could very well get themselves killed, he had to put his beloved family at risk, and he had to kill other vampires.

Aro’s inaction put him through hell and could have gotten his family killed. Would have, if it weren’t for the wolves.

Jane then decides to make her entrance right after the battle ended, while the fire is still going. The timing could not be more clear: the Volturi were waiting it out, letting the Cullens be culled.

We then get to Bree, who was an innocent in all the ways that counted, and not at risk of repeat offenses. Jane executes her anyway. Not just that, she makes sure to torture Bree, twice, entirely gratuitously:

“She’ll tell you anything you want to know,” Edward said through his teeth. “You don’t have to do that.” 

 Jane looked up, sudden humor in her usually dead eyes. “Oh, I know,” she said to Edward, grinning at him before she turned back to the young vampire, Bree. (Eclipse, page 333)

Even if the execution can be justified, the torture cannot. Jane abuses her power because she can, and there’s nothing the Cullens can do about it.

Then you have the fact that Bree had overheard a conversation between Jane and Victoria in which Jane gave Victoria explicit permission to take out the Cullens on the Volturi’s behalf. Bree replays this for Edward to hear before she dies, validating every paranoia he ever had about the Volturi. Just because he didn’t tell Bella, doesn’t mean he didn’t tell his family. He certainly would have told Carlisle and Alice.

Over the course of Eclipse, Carlisle sees the Volturi neglect to enforce their own law because culling his coven is a higher priority to them, torture and execute a mostly innocent vampire, and then he finds out that they made a deal with Victoria.

Not only would he be massively disillusioned by the Volturi, but by Aro himself. The man he met in Volterra was a lover of the arts and the academics and spoke of justice among vampires, and then Carlisle gets to experience first hand just what kind of justice this is. Aro was not the person he thought he was, and their old friendship doesn’t count for much either.

Look then to Breaking Dawn, where Carlisle has a vampiric child, but not an immortal one. Like Bree, he is innocent in all the ways that counted. This did not help Bree, and given the events of Eclipse (and remember only six months have passed), it won’t help him either. The Volturi have made it clear that they want to take out his coven, and whether or not the Cullens are actually innocent won’t matter.

The only way he can hope to slow them down, to force some kind accountability upon the Volturi (an accountability that might have preserved Bree’s life: she died because Jane had none), is to have there be witnesses to their trial.

And we get the clusterfuck called Breaking Dawn (or as I like to call it, Aro and Carlisle Break Up).

Relevant meta.

Edit 16th of April: Aro’s side of things

[bakugohoex]

Idk if you have heard of aot 2 final battle, and it's great if you do. It will help with my request if you know the ending. Can I request a Jean x reader where he meets her at Marley when he thought reader died? (You can ignore it if you want)

“you’r…you’re alive”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: language, flashbacks italicised, kissing, fluff

word count: 3100+

a/n: this was going to have some nsfw but i just couldnt find a place for it, it felt weird to just have it randomly through the oneshot lmao, also a thank you to @admin-in-residence for having explained the games ending to me

summary:  in which after risking your life to fight the titans, four years later having assumed you died, jean finds you in the most unlikeliest of places

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist 

Eren’s body laid limp in the cart, the dozens of titans ran closer and closer towards the horses. You saw Jean sitting breathless to the side, his soft eyes looking at the success of having Eren but the failure of bringing about Ymir. You watched the titans bombard through the trees, you would never make it out, you knew it, the people between you and titans getting smaller and smaller each time they killed someone.

You watched; eyes fixated at how close they were. There was little chance of success, you turned to Jean seeing him look with fear at the approaching titans. “I’m sorry, Jean.” At the sound of those two simple words he watched as you leapt out of the cart, using your gear to have a hold onto the trees, the titans that were just about to grab the cart were cut down by you. 

“Y/n, no, Y/n, get back here right now.” He shouted back at you, ready to join you but had seen how you had picked and fiddled with his gear. “For fucks sake Y/n, get back here now.” He watched at how the distance between you both grew. 

“I love you.” It was inaudible, he probably never even heard it, but he saw your mouth move, saw the words flow out of your mouth, tears welling in his eyes.

He sobbed, “Y/n...please.”

They had watched how you jumped out, how you had risked your life for it all, for them. Tears welled up through their eyes but all you could see was titans, their figures getting smaller at how the titans had congregated to you. You would die saving your friends and that was all you truly wanted to do.

“Y/n, wake up.” The sound of Reiner’s hand moved to your shoulder shaking you awake. You sat upright in bed, tears having pricked down your face, you watched the grown man sitting beside your bed, looking down at your smaller frame. 

“Nightmare.” He mutters seeing you wipe the tears away; you give a nod not meeting his gaze. “What was it?”

“About our past.” If all you murmured out, how could you tell him, 4 years later that you were still hung up on Jean. How you missed the boy and the future you two could’ve had, how you hated being in Liberio, how you wish he had left you for dead outside the walls. 

How dare he make the decision to bring you along, his stupid crush of you had gotten in the way? Even Zeke knew that and here you were in his house, where him and his family lived, acting like his lover, acting like you were another Eldian like them. You hated it, Reiner’s emotions got the better of him, you and him both knew that, and seeing the hatred the people outside the walls had for you, made you resent this hell hole. 

“Y/…” Before Reiner could even say anything, his mother’s voice had interrupted.

“Reiner, Y/n, are you both awake?” You hated her, hated her voice, her face, the way she called you all devils, you hated her. You would never grow to love her, you had hoped to have had a fake breakup with the boy, but the realisation you had nobody had dawned on you a couple years back and here you were. Still in his bedroom, sleeping beside him, you hated him even more than you hated his mother.

The disgust that you had at having to be near him, to have to pretend to be in love when all you wanted to do was slit his throat. Slit his family's throat, even his cousin who’s whole purpose stemmed from killing your people. She may have been a child, you knew she was a kid, but sometimes you just wished you could strangle that piece of shit. 

“I’ll wait for you outside.” Reiner muttered, seeing how you barely even looked at him. He remembered the first time meeting you, he, himself knew that he shouldn't have gotten infatuated with you. But at the sight of seeing you lay limply he had to take you home, care for you but all you had for him was aggression. 

You both barely talked now, the years hurting you both, he had gone off straight to the war with the Mid-East, forcing you to come and stay in the military base. He knew you'd hate it, but still you were made to stay. You wished he had just taken you back into the walls, but he was a selfish prick. 

You wore the trousers and shirt, having refused to wear the dresses that had been forced onto you. You didn’t care, the stupid armband around your shoulder that Zeke had gotten for you, it was an ugly thing. 

Reiner had told you about the festival in a couple days, you didn't want to attend, it seemed a bore. I'd much rather go out on your own, but the glare he had given in front of his mother had made you reluctantly agree. 

Stepping outside, Reiner glazed his eyes across your frame, even though he knew he didn't love you. He knew you had no feelings for him, and his teenager crush had made him bring you along when he should've left you to die. He couldn't confess it though, the risk of being found out would make his mother be turned into a titan and left to wander the land of Paradis. He watched you comb your fingers through your hair, a tired sad look on your face. 

“I’ve got to go meet Zeke today…”

“I’m going on a walk.” You mutter not caring about what he did in his day, he would never be the boy you had trained with, the boy you had fought alongside with. He just never would, and he had the exact same feelings towards you.

He nodded looking down, even with the boy of you growing in the years, you both retained some part of you from Paradis. A necklace clinging around your neck that you had refused to take off in these years. The one thing you had from Jean, you remember his face when he saw it and how he bought it with so much ease. How he moved your hair, kissing your shoulder with his tender lips and put it across your neck. 

The feeling of his lips and fingers would never return to you, you'd never see his face again. The face you had been through hell and back with, he would never see you, never know if you survived. Maybe you did regret fighting those titans, but the look and fear Jean had had sent an urge to protect him through you. 

Reiner’s mother gave a smile which you faked back at her, she spoke about her plans for the day and how Gabi had offered to come and help her in her free time from training. You hoped they’d both have an accident falling into the river, giving a nod, you spoke about needing to buy some stuff yourself but on the other side of town. It was easy to get away from the family, easy to walk away with your coat and shoes and leave with a tamed step.

There was always the fear of being caught, fear that you weren't an Eldian or even human. You had had those recurring dreams for the past four years, every day reliving a moment from your past. You wondered about your family, how they were, how your friends were and captain Levi. You wondered about Jean, what he looked like now, if he had become the leader you had praised him for being. 

You kicked a stone walking down the alleyway into the main street, gaining a breath of air. You scoured through the stalls and shop windows, it may be a disgusting place to be in with the humid air and ugly people. But it was a home for these people, a home that you wished to destroy. The sound of Eldians shopping in the district filled the air, you stopped beside a newspaper stand, looking at the new news of the day. Another piece of indoctrination, you smiled at the stall owner, putting on an act as you wanted to light the newspapers on fire.

A cold wash of air hit the back of your neck, you ignored the sensation, moving to the side for the person to get past. “Sorry.” If all the man muttered, you didn't look at his face, instead putting your hair up to stop the heat from attacking you even further. You couldn't see his face even if you had looked, the fedora covering half his face.

He looked down at you, watching as your fingers moved through your hair. He barely caught a glimpse of your face before catching the glint of the silver around your neck. The silver necklace with the rose pendant around it, the flower that he had bought the girl he had lost all those years ago. Trying to meet your eye, he knew it couldn't be you, you died, your body eaten up by the titans, but even then, he followed you as you left. Watching each turn you took, thinking that he was being coy about it all until he heard you stop in front of a boy. 

“Y/n, what are you doing so far out?” The boy spoke to you, Falco was a nice kid, better than Gabi any day but he had the same ideals in him. The same hatred for your people, how could you ever feel bad for him when he never considered your people’s feelings. 

That name, the name of his first love, the name of the woman he lost. But it couldn't be, the man kept at it, watching you converse with Falco before the boy ran off. “Are you going to keep following me then?” You finally spoke directed to the man, you still could barely see his face, but he could see yours now. As clear as day, you were his girl, his first love, his everything.

“You’r...you’re alive.” He stuttered still with caution, still vary of how you were even alive. He removed the fedora, meeting your gaze, you stared up at the man and you just knew you had been saved.

“Jean.” You whispered, he nodded before you ran up to him, his arms out as your body hit his own. Tears welling up in your eyes, as you sobbed to him, the way he soothed you, his hand in your hair. 

“Y/n, it’s really you, right?” He whispered softly, you nodded feeling his own tears prick down his face. “You’re really here?”

“I’m really here, Jean, wh...what are you doing here?” You whisper letting go of him, he had grown, the hairs across his chin were a lot clearer and his hair had grown. 

He met your own gaze, even if you were older, there was no showing it, you looked like the girl who had risked her life to save the scouts. “I...wait.” He met your gaze, “what are you doing here? Ar...are you one of them?”

“God no, Jean, I promise you know who I am, I’m one of you, you’ve met my parents and they weren’t from him, please believe me, I'll explain what happened, we just need to go somewhere safe.” You rambled out; Jean nodded putting his hand out. 

You took it with so much ease, it was unlike the times Reiner had put his hand for you and you reluctantly agreed. This time you were with the man you loved, the man who had finally found you. He led you past the allies and through the streets before arriving at a building, it looked more or less abandoned, but the lights were on and people were inside.

“This is gonna be a shock.” He whispers, you give a smile up to him, he had missed that smile of yours. The cheery grin you always had with your plump lips and soft touch you had with him.

He opened the door, leading to silence. “Jean did you bring the f…” Sasha stopped mid-sentence, all eyes fell onto you, even Hanje and Levi were in shock at you. “Y/n.”

“Sasha.” You whispered.

“You’re alive.” She ran up to you, tears brimming her eyes on her best friend being alive, hugging your frame as you hugged back happily. “But how, what are you doing here?”

She had let you go, allowing for you to breathe, “captain before you say anything, I’m not one of them.” 

You knew the glare Levi had given you, having seen it often all those years ago. But you had to prove your story, Jean led you inside letting you sit in front of both Hanje and Levi. Both having been silent after the interaction, “explain then.” Levi spoke coldly even if Jean was wary, he trusted your word.

“Let me save her, please Zeke.” Reiner’s voice boomed from the outskirts of the wall, you were listening into the conversation, after nearly being eaten by a titan, Reiner having swooped in. Your body leant against him as he tried to persuade Zeke.

Zeke looked cynical, the stupid boy having gotten a crush so easily and now using it against him, “leave her to die.”

“Zeke, for fucks sake, I won't carry out this mission until we keep her safe.” Zeke knew the risk of this, he took a sharp breath before nodding, Bertholdt could barely even look at you. Memories flashing through his head of your past together. All you could remember after that was being placed inside a cart, a blanket placed on top as you fell into a deep slumber.

These gaps in your memory had been a torment for you, the fact even Reiner refused to tell you what happened made you think the failure would fuel your hatred even more.

The sound of waves crashing was the first thing you heard, the sight of the sea. The sea that Armin had rambled out to both you and Jean months ago. “Finally awake.” You squealed your head hurting at the sight of Reiner meeting you, you had been lying against the ship, the salty air engulfing your lungs.

“Reiner, stay away from me.” You shouted ready to fight him, your hands up, but you had nothing to fight with. A one-to-one combat with him would be a sure win for him and he looked tired even. 

“Y/n, sit down, I’ll explain it all.” And that's what he did. He explained his past, Marley’s and the story of the walls. It felt like lies but having seen the sea now you knew it was the truth and after he had finished speaking you felt even more on edge.

“You haven't told her the best part yet?”

You looked up to meet a blonde hair man, his thick blonde beard and glasses encased his eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Zeke Yeager.” That surname, you recognised it, you gave a hostile look as he continued speaking, “Eren’s older brother and the beast titan. Go on tell her then.”

“We...were taking you to Marley.” Your eyes widened.

You pushed him away from you, his arms having moved to comfort you, “You...you could've just let me go, let me stay within the walls, why Reiner? Why?”

“I had to protect you.” He whispered.

“Protect me, bullshit Reiner, i...I’m never going to see Jean again thanks to you.” Reiner’s grip moved to your face; he held your jaw tightly as you squealed at the pain.

“Jean never loved you, I do.” It was an inaccurate statement, but tears had welled up in your eyes before he let go, leaving you on the ground. 

You looked between the disgusted faces of your comrades; the way Jean’s jaw clenched at hearing what Reiner had said to you. How you had had to live with him and his mother, be around these people who hated you. He hated how you had had to share a bed with Reiner, act like you were in love with him. He hated how Reiner had stripped away four years of love for both you and Jean.

“We should’ve looked harder for you.” Hanje muttered lowly, you gave a small smile shaking your head.

“No, I knew what I was getting into when I went to go fight those titans, you guys thought I died. Hell even I thought I had died.” Mikasa puts a hand to your shoulder as you smile up at the girl, they all had changed, and they had realised you had as well. 

“We should explain why we’re here.” She spoke as you nodded all turning to Levi.

Levi looked down at you, he shook his head before speaking, “Eren…” By the end of his explanation you had been caught up to date on everything, knowing about Eren’s will and the letters he had been making Falco send for weeks now. “...this leads me to ask Y/n, are you still a part of the survey corps?”

You stared at your captain, taking a sharp breath, “I better have one of these cool black uniforms.” Sasha and Connie both smiled brightly at your comment, even Levi shook his head, you could almost see his upper lip twitch, but he had stopped himself. 

“One of the spares should fit you Y/n.” Hanje spoke aloud, in a matter of half an hour the plan had been explained and your job to remain normal before leaving just before the speech that would occur at the festival. “Welcome back Y/n.” 

You had gained everything that had been taken away from you, gained happiness and your love back. Jean had been quiet since you're welcome back, walking up to him and grabbing his hand softly as you gestured for him to follow you into an empty room. 

“I missed you Y/n.” You smiled at the boy, moving your body closer to his taller frame.

“I still love you Jean, I never stopped, every night I’d imagine it was you beside me.” You confessed, he looked down at your face. The same pretty eyes that filled with so much love, his hand moving to cup your cheek. On instinct, your face nuzzling into it, he softly brought his face down to meet yours, only a mere inch away from his own.

“I love you.” He whispered before capturing your lips on his own, his soft palm holding your face as his lips moved with yours, his tongue gliding inside with so much love and care. It was a happiness that you hadn't felt in years now, a happiness that could only be brought about by the love of your life. You had forgotten what it felt to be loved and now here you were, kissing the man you thought you’d never see again.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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[yanderenightmare]

ooh I wanna see ua bakugo frustrate with his affection over this clueless moron, kinda like shoto, like he gives her like a flower and she's just like wuut .__.

yandere ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

This is so cute, I can’t. Don’t know if this is what you wanted hahahaha, but I have a weak spot for like Luna Lovegood girls, like Alice in Wonderland derpy pigtailed pastel Melanie Martinez lookin’ cupcakes. And made this still in the UA au... hope that’s ok!

goodiebag WARNINGS: slight yandere, slight dubcon theme, profanity, anxiety, hallucinations, stalking

SCARY LOVE

He felt like such a stalker, like a wolf hiding in the grass, just a disgusting waste of a human being standing and ogling her from the safe distance, far enough away that she wouldn’t care to look up, but just close enough to see the color in her eyes from where she was planted in the shade under the campus willow-tree.

Why was she so fucking cute?

Her locks knotted up into two big messy buns, big splendid pastel bows tying them both into place, one blue, the other pink, matching puffy scrunchies decorating both her wrists. Cute. Small wisps of light flowing hair falling in front of her face, tickling her nose, making it scrunch like a how bunny would every now and again. Cute. White ruffled socks reaching halfway up her leg. Cute. Her knees baring pastel-colored band-aids and small scrapes and purple bruises, in the same state her elbows were. Cute. Nimble fingers handling the book that seemed so out-of-place in its size where it weighed down heavily in her lap. She looked like such a fucking fairytale. A soft-tinted cotton-candy daydream. 

Ready to have his bloody hands fuck up everything.

Bloody hell. What the fuck is he doing?

He can’t just stand there like some lovesick freak and do nothing, simply waiting for the school-bell to sound off its alarm, making her jump up like a little bunny popping up from its rabbit-hole where she’ll struggle with carrying that ridiculous book and sit down in class only to daydream about going back outside, but not before she’ll walk past him, allowing him to smell that sweet perfume that always has his heart clenching furiously in his chest and his cock growing warm and heavy in his pants.

What is wrong with him?

He can’t be thinking of her like that. This sweet precious little flower sitting so quietly with no wish to bother anyone, so soft and sweet he bet she’d cry if she so much as stepped on an ant. He wondered if she was a crier, if she’d be this adorable little crybaby ball of sobs and wet moans beneath him. He wondered what types of sound she’d make if he shoved his cock inside her. If she’d squeal and gasp and hiccup at his size, if she’d mewl, if she’d whimper, if she’d scream.

Fuck.

He needed to calm the fuck down.

To think he would never have met her if he hadn’t been forced to sign up to that stupid side-course. To think he was so mad that he didn’t make the cut for the class about war-theory and was forced to take philosophy with a bunch of air-headed freaks instead. To think he almost didn’t meet her. To think- fuck, he’s even starting to sound like one of them fucking philosophy-ditzes.

To be or not to be, or to drool over the girl sitting beneath the willow-tree.

Maybe that’s what he should submit next time they have one of those moronic poetry sessions. Perhaps then she would look at him with interest, with surprise and even praise, maybe even reverence, mirroring the look he gives her when she stands on the podium reciting her swirling words and artful descriptions, looking as though she’s entirely in her own world, dreaming, not just speaking but preaching, preaching to him about gods he’s never heard of yet somehow always believed in.

He used to believe gods drank blood and could only be celebrated through pain, that they made creatures like him, crafted him from dragon bones and fire and everything sharp and deadly, crafting him from war for war to become war itself, to find purpose in conquering, to find worth in glory. But now… looking at this creature, this creature who celebrates life and not death through laughter and daydreams and love far away from pain, he knows he’s had it all wrong.

He’s no good with words. He never has been. Except when insulting people, then he turns into a fucking lyric. What she can do is a gift. Either that, or she’s simply just insane. Either way, he doesn’t really care. She’s still soft, a tender type of madness, sweet and small and would look so good with a couple of love-bites to crash that display of milk and cream and cotton, so fucking brilliant with his handprint marking her ass… and he’s doing it again.

Fuck.

None of that will happen if he doesn’t grow a pair and go talk to her. But he can’t just talk to her. He has nothing to say. Or he has plenty to say, but nothing she could hear. He needed to find the most straightforward approach, however… while it needed to be unmistakable or lest she misunderstand, it couldn’t be aggressive. That would frighten her and he couldn’t risk spooking her away. He couldn’t risk ruining everything. It was apparent she didn’t think too much of him except that he was an angry looking boy in her Friday-classes, he needed to prove he too could be… sweet… or at least something akin to it.

He was wrong in thinking that anything would make her look up from her book. Even as he stood a mere meter away from her, she didn’t look up, completely lost and submerged in her own world as she always was. Only when he cleared his throat did she finally lift her gaze, eyes fluttering from traveling the pages and blinked softly to look up at him.

Cute.

He forgot to say anything, with a hand reached out, fisting the air, knuckles whitening in his grip, where inside the seemingly furious hand was something to contrast his otherwise deadly red stare.

The look of puzzlement on her face was insurmountable. Her small hands giving no indication to receive whatever he was offering.

“Is this a threat?” Came her soft voice, shaking him out of the faze he’d slipped into, though quickly plunging him into another one, this time not so much anticipation but confusion.

“What? No!” The both of them simply looked at each other for a moment. Bakugo’s hand still protruding out towards her, the thing in his hand no more tempting to accept than before to the girl who was still planted, making no action to get up from her spot.

“I don’t understand…” She admitted, wondering if he perhaps wanted her seat in the shade, but wasn’t given the time to ask the question as he decided to clear things up.

“It’s a flower.”

She could see that. It was a flower ripped from its root, an otherwise healthy flower before being suffocated in Bakugo’s death-grip.

“It’s a dead flower…” She corrected, a hint of sorrow on her features and he knew he was already failing in his pursuit, wanting to make things right before they could derail even more.

“It’s pretty... like you.” That came out as even more an ominous threat he realized, indicating she’d end up like the proven pretty dead flower in his chokehold.

“Are you sure this isn’t a threat?” The fact that she felt the need to ask him not only once but twice told him all he needed to know of her thoughts regarding him. She obviously thought he was a deranged explosive beast from the Hero-course.

“Goddamn it, no, I…” He frustrated, finding it hard to arrange the words, finding it hard to even find the words. “You… You’re so… You-” She was oblivious to how much he was struggling it seemed, as her personality suddenly shifted and she jumped up, book thrown to her side rather recklessly, skirt with ruffles and all bouncy with the same vigor as her tits.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together, eyes wide with such bright light Bakugo almost felt blinded by, it even managing to frightened him a bit. “Thank you, that’s very good to know! I’d be terrified if I was anyone but me!” His brows lifted in dawning realization, feeling safer by being calmed by the reminder of how he was talking to a ditz, a complete mental-case… though… a mental-case who’d managed to dance her way and get lost in his heart. “Pardon me for being so blunt, but I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t ask.” Preparing him for her question, she leant in just a bit more, looking at him intently. “Are you yourself today, Bakugo?”

As absurd as the question was to him, when it rolled off her tongue it nearly seemed like the most casual of things to ask someone, as though she was requesting his thoughts on the weather. And though it was the epitome of peculiar, the more he thought about it, the more he realized how appropriate the question was, because he were, in fact, not at all feeling like himself.

“… No.”

She gave a contemplative look and a hum. “Then you must be Baku-gone…” He couldn’t hold back the snort that followed her statement, again being reminded of what a complete klutz she was, something so far away from his cynical view of the world and something far more relaxing than what his fears had managed to conjure of her rejection. It seemed so ridiculous now, that he’d thought she would run away or scream, never having let himself imagine her in what he knew was her true nature, light-hearted and incapable of doing any harm, at least not on purpose. “Wow, you really must be, huh?” She continued, fishing him out of his curt chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh. Come to think of it… I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you smile.” She mused, admiring the small pleasantness stretched upon his face.

But then his brows furrowed, the happiness seeping from his features and leaving them contorted with annoyance, much to her dismay, regretting her choice of words. “I smile.” He argued, looking at her as though demanding she explain herself.

She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him, scrunching her brows and biting her lip for a second or two as though she were in deep thought, not wanting to upset him any further, though not wanting to speak without candidness. “No… you… bare teeth… like a wolf eager to catch its prey.” His ears retracted, features taken aback by her observation, finding he couldn’t quite say otherwise, though he’d never viewed it that way, but again, the more he thought about it, the more all her strange words made sense as he found them to be true. Silly of him to think his wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing approach could fool her, silly of him to think he could fool himself into believing she’d ever consider going out with someone so… predatory.

Though, minds are easily swayed, he reminded himself of. Her opinion of him wasn’t set in stone after all. “Does it scare you?” He finally asked, finding that was the only thing he was actually curious about. Though… perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing if she did fear him just a bit, because god knows how terrified he is of her and how she makes him feel as though he’s bleeding or falling or stripped of everything, cut by the knees and naked and so very needy to have her just look at him.

“I would say no, but I cannot lie.” His heart sunk upon hearing her admit it, disappointed, not sure if it was in her or in him.

She’s scared… Of course, she is scared! Who wouldn’t be? Dumb of him to think anything else.

“But, that’s rather the point isn’t it? To scare people?” She took a step forward, eyes bright and hopeful, hating to think she’d upset him.

“Not you.” It was barely above a whisper, words simply cast out there, and it left the girl looking perplexed, curious and even guilt-stricken or ashamed.

“Well… I shouldn’t fear things I know too little about… that would be silly…” She felt the urge to touch him, wanting him to truly hear her words, wanting to enforce them by touch, yet as her hands reached out to take his all so brazenly her eyes fell upon the flower again. She didn’t really have any wish to touch something dead, it always being such a cold and empty feeling running like ice through her veins, yet she reached out to receive the flower anyway, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “So, if not my fear, what is it this Bakugone wishes of me then?” She slipped on a tender smile, genuine and perfect, her soft fingertips brushing against his.

“I…” He was so focused on how she was touching him, the pressure, the elegance, the perfection, so focused he forgot the words again, so focused on her soft fingertips, her warmth, her pastel-manicured nails, he didn’t realize how the movement had stilled.

“You want to eat my heart.”

Her voice made him look up from where they were conjoined, crimson orbs dragged slowly to meet the oddity of her voice no less her words, yet as he looked, he continued to search because he found no eyes looking back at him, only whites, wide gleaming glowing void whites staring at him.

“You want to rip open my ribcage and feast.” Shaken and confused his brows twisted as he yet again tried to find her eyes. “You want to see me burst and bloom for you.” He hadn’t tried pulling his hand away, not really wanting to either, but he realized he perhaps wouldn’t be able to even if he’d wanted with how hard she was now digging her once soft fingers into his wrist. “You want to cripple me. You want to hear my deathbed confession. You want to lick the sin from my expression.” Her brows were the ones to crinkle now as she inhaled a shuddering breath, her hand shaking as she held onto him, seemingly as though her life depended on it. “You want and you’ve been wanting for so long. You want and want, there’s no end to what you want.” Her voice was now frantic, sporadic, hitched and frightened. “You want more and more and more and more and more-” She shook so much she lost her footing and tripped, staggering back and hitting the dirt with a sharp thud, knocking her out of whatever trance she’d slipped into, no more words coming thundering from her lips except for a cute little exclamation of oof, fluffy skirt puffed out around her like a jellyfish.

“What the fuck!” He shouted once she let go, flower falling to the floor, dropped in the midst of his shock and confusion as to what had happened, yet also feeling embarrassed with how she’d seemed to have caught him red-handed, and shaken with how much she knew, disturbed with how it all had been phrased, yet concerned, concerned because he knew he’d failed, he’d scared her so much she nearly melted, but somehow even more concerned with how she’d hit the ground. “I’m-” She looked up at him and he was left dumbstruck with how wide her eyes were and how full they now seemed with the return of her irises and pupils. No longer looking like wax, but like great gems or galaxies he couldn’t help but fall prey to, especially with how glossy they were, shining and glimmering and wet, wet with tears.

“No wonder you feel gone.” She suddenly mumbled, or it wasn’t exactly a mumble, but in contrast to whatever voice she spoke in before it surely seemed subdued. “Someone’s run off with your heart!” She clumsily got back to her feet, gripping his shoulders, nearly making him stagger back and fall with just how intense and vivid her actions were thrown at him. “You’re in love!” She squealed, nearly screaming it at him, before reeling herself back in, probably only now realizing how she’d attacked the boy. “Excuse me, I mean pardon, I mean I’m terribly sorry if I frightened you.” She backed away, fingers playing with each other as she tumbled through her sentence. “It’s my quirk you see. It has a habit of living its own life. I didn’t mean to spout out your desires like that, it was a total invasion of your privacy and completely rude and unethical on my side. I really am so sorry. Would you forgive me?”

Wasn’t he the one who should be apologizing to her?

He remained stunned and confused and growing even more so by the second as she spoke. “Perhaps I could make it up to you? Perhaps I can help you in your quest to retrieve your heart? Who is the thief?”

And there it was.

She was so overwhelmed she didn’t even pick up who the emotions were for.

Silly thing.

This made him ease up. He hadn’t spoiled everything yet. In fact, she seemed even more enthusiastic now than before, even more eager to talk to him and help him even. “Is it that green-haired boy? What was his name again? Something with D or M, I can’t for the life of me remember! Or perhaps it’s the floaty one? You know, the one with the big brown eyes. No! I know who it is, it’s the one with the shark teeth, and the spikey red hair-” She rambled, and even though some of her suggestions revolted him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her when she was so… so bouncy with thrill, so cute with how her tits squeezed together in her top and jumped for him with every word that fell from those lushes pink lips that would feel so good to bite into and feel on his neck and down his chest and-

“You can help me.” He suddenly blurted, whipping her from her rambling.

“Really?!” Big eyes, filled with such expectancy and acceptance of whatever he was about to request even without a shred of knowing what. “How?” It was as though it were her life wish to help, that denying him would mean death or something even worse in her eyes.

“By making it up to me.”

His grin returned, the one that lacked… not exactly happiness, because there was still a certain glee to it, a certain enjoyment, yet lacking altruism and was instead left looking greedy and gluttonous and as though he was made up of… teeth, and only teeth, and too many teeth, and that those teeth were too sharp.

“Oh.” She seemed drained of her vigorous passion, like a light snuffed out, swallowing thickly. And though she knew it all to be in her head, knew it all to be but a figment of her fears, she still took a step back as though she’d seen something that worried her, and was quickly followed by what had worried her as Bakugo paralleled her backtracking, leaving her no further away from his hungry open-mouthed smirk.

“Kiss me.” She realized she’d backed all the way into the tree, her back meeting the hard trunk seemed to shake her from her vision as the biting image submerged and left her with a quite normal-looking Bakugo towering over her, no longer Bakugone or just a toothy grin, and she was left deciding whether it was any better or maybe even worse than what she had been picturing.

Yet, she had no time to think as Bakugo’s hand raised to cup her cheek, where in the seconds it took for him to do so, she needed to prepare herself for all his obsessive lovesick thoughts she knew would yet again flood her mind, only now she wouldn’t shake from them, and what more, now she knew who they were about. Poor thing had taken Bakugo’s heart without knowing, without knowing to prepare for Bakugo’s blood-stained scarred hand to reach into her chest and hold her own terror-wide heart in a chokehold as he too took it for himself. Without knowing how to protect herself from his many sharp teeth that would steal and eat to satiate what livid hungry fire, what desperate thirst she’d awoken inside his heart, to relieve the pain of it all, to finally breath again, to find safety, to find belonging, to find life. And she had no way of preparing for it, no way of protecting herself from it, no way of hiding from Bakugo’s sharp teeth… but when his hand, his calloused sandpaper-textured palm handled her cheek she was met with a new image, a soft-tinted mellow yet dramatic rhapsodic fire, one that she rather cherished than feared, one that she felt like chasing, one that seemed like it was calling her.

Bakugo leaned in slowly, as though asking for permission, receiving no complaints, just a set of large eyes staring at him. Her hands, feeling as though their fingertips had plunged deep into the bark of the tree behind her, ripped loose to touch him, feeling the simmering plethora of brutally violent passions swimming beneath them as they hovered on top of his skin. Tasting it on her tongue as he captured her soft lips with his own stiff ones. She could taste the hunger, the teeth, the longing, the pain, the fire, the waiting and time he’d suffered in the darkness all alone, she could taste the war, but more… she could taste the fear, the fear of losing or not having at all, and at the very tip of her tongue, stronger than anything else, she caught it, the flavor crystalized like sugar… hope… love.

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[syneilesis]

[fic] anticatharsis

anticatharsis

Ikemen Prince | Chevalier Michel | G | 1.4k words ao3 link

Five times Prince Chevalier should have felt something, but hadn't.

1.

They hailed him as a prodigy, the weight of the world squeezed into a child’s small body, the depth of his blue eyes as wide as the breadth of his abilities. His mother sparkled with pride, glued him to her side as she introduced him to everyone at every ball, her voice mellifluous as a symphony. Her greatest gift, she’d say, and they’d agree – what a blessing to the kingdom, this beautiful, intelligent boy! A hope to Rhodolite, he would guide them to prosperity with his talents. There would be songs dedicated to his name – Chevalier the Gifted, Chevalier the Radiant.

Chevalier the Blessed.

And maybe he really was blessed like they said, except that the prolonged smile on his mother’s face as she waited for him to mirror her effusive mood strained and fractured, the crack echoing inside his skull. What value does it have, Chevalier thought; it is what it is. He was a prince burdened with noble purpose. A privilege, but also a cage. He would fulfill it according to everybody’s will, regardless. Wasn’t that why his mother showed him off to other noblemen like a prized jewel? Talent and power were a dangerous combination, and Chevalier had them both. He knew how to wield them with his young, little body. Hone it, fashion it to perfection, the only acceptable outcome from someone like him.

A blessing, as they said. And as the joy in their faces transmogrified into something else, Chevalier understood that something blessed also carried within it a risk. After all, every gift was not without a price.

2.

“People are scared of you now, Chev.”

There was something in Clavis’s tone that compelled Chevalier to abandon his book for the moment and direct his attention to his brother.

“I noticed.”

Clavis’s eyes were wide and curious, like it was fascinating that Chevalier already knew what the people in the palace had whispered about him. On some occasions, Jin would whisk Chevalier away for a palace adventure, and Chevalier, ten seconds in, would point out that Jin didn’t need to shield him from the fearful looks and the low-voiced chatter, vibrating like an undercurrent, a warning.

“Aren’t you sad?”

Chevalier blinked. Should he be?

“Why should I be? Whatever their feelings towards me is their problem to deal with.” In the long run it’s not he who would be consumed by such emotions. “I find it a waste of time dwelling on how others think of me.”

Let them talk. In the end it was still Chevalier who held power. Even the king could not keep him on a leash. Fear was helpful at times. So young, yet so fearsome!

It didn’t matter if his enemies increased because of this. That was a given. Politics was, after all, a battle of convictions. It would not make any difference to him at all: he would crush every single one of them, anyway.

3.

During the funeral, it’s not fear that blanketed the gazes of people, but pity. Pity for him, the boy who lost a mother. It was ridiculous; pity should be given to someone who had loved and been loved. There was nothing to despair about this. There was no love lost between them because there wasn’t any to give in the first place. Chevalier truly didn’t understand. A person lived and died. That was it. So it goes.

4.

Chevalier wasn’t an idiot – lately Clavis had gained a sharpness that pricked and grazed at him, and if Chevalier wasn’t careful, he might as well get stabbed. Loyalty was one of those things that the royal family placed premium to, but it wasn’t solid and permanent. Causes could evolve, ideals could change, and loyalty – with the right price – could switch. The glint behind Clavis’s eyes told Chevalier of that. He should have seen it coming; the moment the strike of Clavis’s sword rang differently from their previous clashes – fuller, heavier with intent, that it’s almost suffocating – it dawned on Chevalier that Clavis was poised to kill. The only reason he repeatedly failed was the difference between their skills. Chevalier the Blessed, indeed.

“What foolishness are you up to this time?”

Clavis grinned. The blade of his sword reflected the glare of the sun. It blinded Chevalier for a split second, and that was all Clavis needed.

But Chevalier was still the superior fighter. In seven seconds, Clavis was on the ground, chasing his breath, his chest heaving from that particularly nasty kick.

“That was fun,” Clavis wheezed. “Let’s do it again.”

“Why? So you can finally kill me?”

Clavis jerked, not expecting that he’d be figured out so soon. But he recovered quickly, unperturbed; he laughed like this was all so funny and delightful. He got up, and readied his sword again.

“Yeah. You know I hate you, right?”

Clavis’s eyes flashed a dangerous glint, and then and there Chevalier understood him. Hatred was a fuel, and it had some uses. There was nothing sentimental about this, but Chevalier decided to keep Clavis close despite the animosity. He would be useful, and the means wouldn’t matter if it brought the desired end, right?

Chevalier sighed and pointed his sword at Clavis. “And I find you annoying. If you want to get beaten again that badly, I won’t deny your wish. Let’s go.”

5.

Belle was reckless and idealistic, and Chevalier would add brave in there too, but he thought stupid might be the more apt word. Foolish, definitely.

Here, in the rose garden, Belle did not seem out of place. It was late afternoon, and the sun bathed everything in warm, diffuse glow, almost sepia. Chevalier had to narrow his eyes to look at her, the light burning out the sharpness of her steady, determined gaze.

“And what will you get out of it? I fail to see any benefit at all.”

Belle bit her lip, her hands clenched into fists. She seemed to be formulating her response, but Chevalier had no time for it. He turned and strode away, leaving her alone. If she took that as rejection, then all the better.

But she didn’t. He could hear her frantic footsteps attempting to keep up with his pace, and when she jumped in front of him, obstructing his path, his hand twitched for his sword.

“It will benefit me greatly!” she declared, the words bouncing across the hall. With no sunlight to blot her expressions, Belle was a portrait of pure childhood, unsullied, untouched. There was no reason to drag her into palace intrigue, much less involving her with him. Of all princes, really – Chevalier wanted to laugh.

Fine. He would indulge her in her delusion. “How so?”

She took in a loud inhale, as if bracing herself. “You’re cold and ruthless, and people fear you rightly. I was afraid of you at first, but I didn’t understand back then. You do things with a reason, and you may not see it as kindness, but everything you do is for Rhodolite’s sake, right? You care, Prince Chevalier. That, too, is love. And I wish others can see what I see now. So please, let me love you and stay by your side.”

Any other man would have been conquered by such a confession. Who wouldn’t? It was exactly like all those books that extol the beauty of grand declarations, a dream manifesting into reality. Fantasies made tangible. Love as the ideal, the greatest gift. The endpoint. Chevalier might not be a romantic, but he was not blind: the lingering gazes, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the generous smile whenever he’s around. He knew their meaning, the intimations of the heart. And Belle was so foolish as to offer her heart to him.

Tomorrow, Chevalier would ride into war, and his cloak would adorn his enemies’ blood once more. He could already see the anguish darkening Belle’s expression, the halting pleas that would escape her pretty lips. For Rhodolite’s sake, didn’t she say? 

But that was the thing: a gift was not without a price, and Chevalier would use his gift as the people, as his mother, as the kingdom had ordained thus. There would be no hesitation, no regret, no remorse. No ache.

It is what it is.