#It's a GOOD thing that he's not blocking people off anymore! Instead he's trying to create bonds w them!! (<-ignore the reasons for that)

[multifandomgirl08]

Redline [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: "I'm sorry, mijn leeuwin. I know you were excited to announce it to everyone."

Warning(s): N/A

Words: 1.9k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

It had been around 12 in the afternoon when Max had been streaming with Team Redline on iRacing during their normally planned Wild Wednesday. Max had been occupied looking at the virtual race track before him, being used to blocking out all of the sounds of the other guys in his ears. Crane had been jokingly reading through the chat like normal, throwing out random comments left and right.

“Max is busy, chaps.” Crane said. “With his wife, four kids, and three cats. He doesn’t have time for us anymore in his schedule.”

Max knew that Crane was exaggerating. Over the last few months Max hadn’t been partaking in Redline streams as much. Niki had started walking and he had been chasing him around the house. Nico needed help with homework in the evening before they sent him off to bed. Max, Nico, Y/N and Niki would sometimes spend weekends at the karting track giving Nico the tools to get ready for when he would be able to fully race in karts when he was a little older. Max always tried to make time for the Redline guys but it had grown hard in the last few months.

“Four? Crane, Y/N hasn’t even had this one yet.” He let slip out trying to focus turning in the Formula 2 car he was driving.

“This one?” He heard from Gianni.

“Max moves fast.” He heard Crane say. “Like he currently is into turn 12 of this race.”

A moment later he heard from Crane again, “Max, people in the chat are asking if Y/N is in fact pregnant again.”

He barely let his eyes go wide. He was going to be in trouble with his wife.

“MAX!” He heard from the next room over. Y/N had been inside the baby’s room putting away some clothes that had been gifted to them from Victoria, Martijn, and Daniel.

He could hear her footsteps going from one room to another. He was lucky that the race had just ended and he had just finished P2. He was quick to mute his mic before looking at her when she walked into the room, heavily pregnant, holding her belly with a thin light blue dress under her fingers.

“Did you just let it slip on stream that I’m pregnant again?” She asked, holding up her phone to show a direct message of a picture of a tweet that she got on Instagram from a friend of hers.

The tweet in all caps read, IS Y/N VERSTAPPEN PREGNANT AGAIN???!!?!?!

He gave a nod to her, and could hear Crane in one ear saying that he was in trouble. He wanted to knock his headphones off his head, or at the very least reach up and turn his camera off.

“You weren’t supposed to say anything until next week.” She said with the hand that was holding her phone falling to her side.

It had always been the original plan to wait until she was closer to the end of her pregnancy to announce that she was pregnant to everyone who wasn’t family. 

Max reached his hand out towards her as she was standing close to his sim rig. She was just out of view of the camera so no one could see her belly. “I’m sorry, mijn leeuwin. I know you were excited to announce it to everyone.”

Given how busy they both were with the kids and both of their work lives they had waited much longer this time around to announce that Y/N was pregnant again. Things at home for them were just starting to slow down.

Maybe now would be just as good a time as any.

She hung her head for a moment, and Max was waiting to hear the sound of irritation in her voice but instead she just shook her head. Max caught her hand, moving to take his headphones off with one hand. He placed them on top of his keyboard, before dropping her hand and then moved out of the seat of his rig. He took her in his arms and placed a few kisses into her hair.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again. “If you want I can make Crane apologize. You know that he was just joking around.”

None of the Team Redline guys knew that Y/N was pregnant. Crane had just thrown something out there and happened to be right this time. He felt her drop her head onto his shoulder and felt her shake it side to side.

He stroked his fingers over the small of her back and could feel a few drops of what could only be tears start to soak the fabric at the shoulders of his shirt. He kissed the side of her head, and could feel that she was pulling away from him. He looked to meet her eyes, and saw that they were red rimmed. He ran his fingers over her cheeks, removing the tear tracks, and kissed her forehead.

“You can post it later today,” He whispered. “I’m sure half of the internet won’t even notice.”

She gave him a stiff nod, and hugged him once more and he made sure to hug her back feeling her baby bump against his stomach, placing a kiss on her hairline in apology before she let go of him.

He watched her walk out of the room with her shoulders slumped forward. He let out a heavy sigh before climbing back into his sim rig and put on his headphones again. He looked at his screen to see that the stream had ended and it was just him, Crane and the rest of the team.

“Max,” He heard from Crane. “You’re being a little too quiet for my liking mate.”

Max pressed the button on his steering wheel, turning his mic back on. “Yeah, sorry guys. I have a very unhappy wife right now.”

He could hear the far away sound of a door opening, and it sounded like it was coming from Nico’s room.

“I’m sorry to hear that Max,” He heard from Crane. “Let Y/N know I didn’t mean to spill the beans.”

“I’ll make sure that she knows.” He replied with a tight tone to his voice.

Max stayed on talking to the Redline guys for a few more minutes catching up with them, hearing about how 24 hours of Nurburgring had gone without him this year. Before they had all logged off Crane apologized again. Max told him not to worry about it.

Later in the evening after dinner, Y/N seemed to disappear into Niki’s room for a while.

Max couldn’t tell if Y/N was still upset about earlier today. He knew that she had posted the photos that were taken of her to Instagram, with the almost jilted announcement that was her caption, Our secret got spilled a little early but I can't wait to meet you in July. After he had received several congratulations from being tagged in the comments of her post.

Max had been helping Nico with his homework, and by the time they were done Nico needed to head to bed. Max had loaded the dishwasher, and cleaned the counters quickly. He turned the light off in the kitchen and walked downstairs to the master bedroom to see Y/N on her side of the bed, she looked to be asleep, Niki and Nico were also in their bed, curled close to Y/N. Max changed out of his clothes from the day, throwing his team redline shirt to the side and took off his shorts before walking back into the bedroom.

Max had never been kicked out of his own bed before, but he walked to his side of the bed and moved to get his pillow. It seemed like he would be sleeping on the couch upstairs tonight.

He pulled the pillow from the bed and was just about to leave the room when he heard, “Maxy,” in Y/N’s sleep riddled tone.

He turned to look at her, and saw Niki’s head against her chest with her hand holding the little boy.

“Where are you going?” She asked, obviously seeing the pillow in his hand.

“Thought I would sleep on the couch.” He wasn’t sure if she was still mad at him, but he wasn’t going to sleep in their bed if she was.

He saw her shake her head a little before doing her best to reach over without jostling Niki while he slept and pulled the sheets back on his side. So, she wanted him in here, she wasn't as mad as he thought she was.

He climbed under the sheets eventually, dropping his pillow back in its place, and as Nico moved closer to him, Max made the assessment that they would need a bigger bed if the younger kids wanted to sleep in here at any point.

All five of them wouldn’t be able to fit into a king size bed anymore.

Nights like this didn’t happen often, and Max didn’t want to assume that Y/N’s reaction was because she was hormonal and pregnant even though he knew that it was. She was feeling emotional and needed to be surrounded by him and the boys. It was almost like she was nesting in a way, needing to have the things that were important to her in arms reach.

He moved Nico slightly, so the little boy's back was pressed up against his chest before looking at Y/N. She reached for him first, pressing her hand to his cheek.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“I know.” Max laid his hand over hers. “It’s only a week earlier than planned.”

“It just slipped out.” He tried to reason. He hadn’t been dying to tell the world that he was going to be a father again in less than four months. He had been excited that Y/N was pregnant again and that they were having another boy but going through all of the extra things for the announcement didn’t do anything for him. He was more concerned with his wife giving birth without any complications and his son being born healthy.

“I know,” She pressed her head further into her pillow. “I know that Crane just says things while you guys are on stream. I know he didn’t mean anything by it.”

She didn’t sound emotional now, and he knew that her hormones were back to normal, or as normal as they could be when she was 32 weeks pregnant.

“You’re not angry then?” He asked just to be sure.

“I’m not, Max.”

Then why did he feel like he still needed to find a way to make up for it somehow? Max started to run through what he could do to set it right. Maybe order her a big bouquet of flowers, or go and ask Victoria to take Y/N out to lunch the next time they were in Belgium? Let her max out one of their credit cards, even though he knew that she was too financially responsible to let that happen.

“I was hormonal and over reacted. Don’t worry.” She said as if that settled the matter. She pressed her head against his shoulder and he felt her eyelashes flutter closed against his skin. He was going to find some way to make this up to her.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127 , @mysticalnightenthusiast

[author-main]

Do not just hold a knife by the blade. I don't want to be a mom about this but, anything could happen that could end up with you getting needlessly injured. Someone might bump into you, you could slip, you might actually press down too hard, etc.

The only time I've been recommended to hold a knife by the blade is when I'm handing it to someone, and even then you hold it by the flat part.

Your work or hobby might end up in you getting injured with a knife or sword, but not everyone widdles or, especially, swordfights. Most modern people are not supposed to end up getting cut by a sword or even handle one.

We can take your advice and your experience and NOT test it out for ourselves. You're the expert, we're the novice, and us novices might end up hurting ourselves... for what? Seeing if a meme is right?

[ashwhowrites]

Part 1

Here is part 2!!! I hope you guys like it and it was worth waiting for. Thank you for all the love and support on part 1 🥹 it means the world. Enjoy :) never proofread

~~

Steve and Eddie raced to the school, anxiety in their veins as Eddie parked the van. Both boys ran into the building, following the sounds of screaming and cheering.

Steve pushed through the huge crowd, arms immediately wrapping around Y/N's body. Yanking her frame off of Jason, who is on the floor groaning in pain.

"STOP. STOP" Steve screamed, trying to keep his grip tight as she wiggled and squirmed to get out of his touch.

Eddie raced behind, going for Jason instead. Y/N doesn't fight unless she's provoked and he had a good idea Jason started it.

But Eddie's attention on Jason got caught short, hearing Steve Y/N's name as she marched down the hall.

~~

Steve didn't waste a second running after her. He let her walk away once, and he didn't want to do it again.

"Please, just stop" Steve pleaded, hand reaching out to grasp her elbow.

She hated that she melted once he touched her. She was mad at Eddie, but Steve hurt her too.

"what Steve? Now you want to talk?" She spat out, turning around to face him. Cradling her own elbow out of his touch.

"I'm sorry, I never should have let you walk away without listening to you first. You deserve to have the opportunity to explain." Steve confessed. He watched her closely. Her eyes were blocked off from any emotion. And her lips were turned down into a frown.

"no, I don't deserve to explain myself, I deserve to have my boyfriends trust me enough to not even think twice about a rumor like that. I also deserve to be treated as my person. Not a shell of the people who hurt both of you in past moments. I'm not Nancy, and I'm not whoever the fuck Eddie thought I was. I'm me, and you both didn't trust her. Fuck both of you. You followed behind Eddie's lead like a fucking dog. Don't you think for yourself, Steve? It's pretty clear where I stand compared to Eddie. " She said harshly, turning back around and marching out of the school.

Steve took the hit, he deserved it. He was a grown man and he should have thought for himself. He knew he was going to hurt her and he did it for Eddie's sake. He was supposed to treat both his partners fairly, and he just put one higher than the other.

~~

Eddie didn't waste much time with Jason. Spat out to leave them alone and followed the direction where Steve went.

Eddie found him alone in the hallway. Shoulders dropped, and Eddie assumed the conversation didn't go well.

"she still pissed?" Eddie asked, arm wrapping around Steve from behind. Steve shrugged him off and created space between the two.

"just don't touch me." Steve sighed, turning to face Eddie. Watching Eddie's face drop.

"what? What did I do?" Eddie scoffed

"We should have been better. And I should have thought for myself. With everything in me, I don't believe she cheated, and I should have told her that. I followed you and I lost her. And seeing this heartless monster you've been, I think I lost you too. If you believe she did it, that's for you to deal with. But I'm not following you anymore." Steve confessed, giving Eddie a small smile and turning to walk out of the school.

~~

Eddie's insecurities cost him both partners. And now it's on him to fix everything.

He always wanted to protect both of his partners, and he's the bad guy who tore it all up.

Eddie wasn't sure how Steve got home, but once Eddie made it in his trailer, he felt alone. He spent night after night in Steve's apartment, never returning home. He went into his bedroom, throwing himself face-first on his mattress.

He wanted to fix things altogether, he didn't want to talk to Y/N and Steve separately. If he was going, to be honest, and break down into pieces, he only wanted to do it once.

~~

Many phone calls later, Eddie got Y/N to answer. Most of his calls were answered with a scoff and the slamming of the phone hitting the wall. He barely could get a word each time. But this wasn't the time to give up. Once he finally got her to stay on the line longer than two seconds, he asked her to come over to talk.

And it wasn't easy. She was stubborn and still pissed off. Calling him every name in the book, dragging his name up and down the block, before finally sighing and saying "Be there in ten."

Eddie knew convincing Steve to come over would be easy, all he had to do was mention he has Y/N on the way over.

~~

The room was silent, and all three of them were uncomfortable. Y/N couldn't look at either of them, keeping her hands in her lap. Steve kept his eyes on Y/N, silently pleading she'll look up. And Eddie kept his eyes on the floor, stomach twisting in knots.

They were in this position all because of Eddie, and he knew that. All the blame rested on his shoulders and his shoulders alone.

"I want to start by thanking both of you for coming and hearing me out." Eddie sighed in one breath. The anxiety filled his stomach.

"yeah, I think it's a nice option to have a chance to explain yourself, but that's not for everyone." Y/N threw out the side remark. Rolling her eyes as she finally looked up at Eddie.

"I'm sorry for everything. Y/N, I'm sorry for attacking you right away, not letting you explain yourself, and turning Steve against you.....I know what I did was so wrong. Deep down I knew I was fucking everything up but I couldn't stop myself. " Eddie voiced out. His eyes connected with Y/N's.

"Eddie, I just don't understand why it was so easy to believe I cheated on you guys. I've been loyal, supportive, and understanding of both of you! I would have believed you guys over anyone. But knowing you chose to believe random high schoolers over your girlfriend is fucked up. And I deserve a real explanation for that. I don't care if you knew you were wrong, it's the fact you continued to be an ass to me. I'm also disgusted by the fact you saw me as someone seeking to hurt Steve and that you felt the need to protect him. Protect him from his girlfriend? That's low." Y/N didn't plan to hold anything back. She spent night after night having her thoughts brewing over and over.

"you deserve an explanation. I need to be honest with both of you and myself. I acted out of insecurity and fear. I....heard the rumor and my first thought was I cannot let anyone know this would hurt me. It's fucked up, and I picked my pride over being vulnerable. I wanted to show I could be unaffected. That the relationship between you and I isn't what I depend on to be happy. But it is, and it's fucked up of me to find that embarrassing to admit. Because it's not. You and Steve make me so fucking happy and show me what love is about. I took all that for granted and tossed it aside like it wouldn't mean anything to me. Neither of you deserved that, and Y/N you didn't deserve to be treated like that. " Eddie took a deep breath before continuing.

"I also want to apologize to Steve, I wanted to protect you but all I did was hurt, everyone. I should have been mature and brought the topic up in a controlled way. I shouldn't have thrown it out in a fit of anger and I shouldn't have turned you against her before she even got home. I was wrong and I was wrong to both of you. I know I don't deserve another chance, I know I didn't give Y/N a fair chance, but I'd like to ask for another chance at being your boyfriend again." Eddie nervously looked between the both of them.

"Before we answer that, I'd like to apologize to Y/N also," Steve sighed out, facing her fully. " You are right, I should have thought for myself. We both know Eddie doesn't communicate well, and I was the only one in that situation that could have controlled the conversation and helped us out. I should have let you explain yourself. You're not Nancy and you've proved that. I also am guilty of letting my insecurities take over and ruining everything we built. I think I speak for Eddie and I when I say, if you give us this chance, we will prove our loyalty to you. And we will always communicate when our insecurities are taking control again. "

Y/N was happy to hear both boys being honest with themselves, admitting that their insecurities got too much and they panicked. It doesn't take away the hurt and damage, but it's a start to fixing everything.

"I appreciate both of you apologizing. Eddie, I'm hurt that you felt that your pride was more important than being vulnerable with me. But I like to hear that you know what's wrong and you are aware that was the wrong thing to do. I know you are trying Eds, and I don't expect you to know what to do all the time. You know you hurt me, and you knew it was on you to fix it. Thank you for taking responsibility for that. I will give you another chance, but I want you to work on your communication. We shouldn't count on Steve for all the communication between us. If you can prove to me that you are working on that, I'm happy for you to be my boyfriend again." She smiled at Eddie, his face breaking out into his smile.

She turned to Steve, a soft look in her eyes. " Thank you for apologizing as well. Thank you for knowing I am not Nancy and thinking over my words. I understand that your insecurities took over and I would also like for you to communicate that to me. I have faith that you can do that. I am also happy for you to be my boyfriend again." She smiled.

All three smiling at each other. Both boys understood they needed to back up their apologies, and show that they meant it.

Eddie knew that no one was ever going to make him as happy as his two partners do. He's lucky enough to have two people fall in love with him. He's safe with them. He can fall apart with them and know neither will judge him. He's flawed and that's okay.

Steve knew Y/N was her person and she was beautiful. She wasn't out to hurt him or Eddie. She just wanted to love them for who they are. Steve knew he needed to think for himself, and speak his thoughts if they happened to disagree with hers or Eddie's.

"Can I kiss you now?" Steve and Eddie asked at the same time, both boys chuckling to themselves as they stare at their girl across from them.

She giggled behind her hands, nodding her head.

"who's going first?" She joked. Knowing a fight was ahead of them.

"ME!" Eddie screamed, shoving Steve as he raced across the room.

Tags!

@littlefreckles4 @gregre369 @boybandbaby @lightmelikeamatch @sheisjoeschateau @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @sadpetalsstuff @sophiaj650 @lillie-1307 @book-of-roses @httpsad4m @kjaxm @pineapplechuncks @5tud10-54r4h

@tracymbcm @hopforlifee @sadbitchfangirl @ryantryan6969 @mulletmcghee @cinnamapup @hi-im-arie @quack-quack-snacks @ironblizzardgarden @weezerrhomiee @boredandangry1996 @mahalaraewolfe @spenciesprincess @angel-jz @eris-rose-86 @heyyitsmaille @j-k007 @knowitsforthebetterr @saucypeanuttt @m-good @roastyyytoastyyy @kaattrenn @booksandlighters @anaibis @finleyjaycee @hollywoodxrose @variant-lokitty @theamericanjewitch @spear-bearing-bi-witch @cerya @alltheloveamelia @shelbycillian @plk-18 @bellajg21 @logibearhockey1 @svtbpbts

@depressed-gays-of-marvel @rebecca-johnson-28 @grxcisxhy-wp @hamwrapz @lifecanbehardbutyouarestrong

[jananakookie]

Rumor Has It | pjm - Chapter 7

💬 Pairing: Jimin x OC (Reader)

💬 Genre/Tags: enemies(?) to lovers, fake-dating au; angst, fluff, smut

💬 Chapter warnings: swearing, almost? physical fight, angst, contains sexual themes! fingering, nipple play, protected sex

💬 Word count: 11.3k

💬 Recap:

Rumor has it, Park Jimin is single again after his latest girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend.

Rumor has it, he's willing to get back at them.

Rumor has it, you're the perfect means to an end.

Previous Chapter - Index - Next Chapter

short notice: Please let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore. Since I've been away for over a year, I could really understand that. Don't wanna bother anyone!

If you're still here pls leave feedback and a reblog? x

Chapter 7: There's something in the water.

All eyes are on you as you stroll down the hallway with two cups of coffee in one hand and a paper bag with breakfast in the other, gradually trying to find your destined room while also desperately trying to block out curious gazes. 

Getting stared at is nothing new for you, but this time it feels a little more personal since you don’t think you have ever been in this part of the building before. You never really had a reason to visit the dance department until now.

Today marks another new experience because you suddenly woke up this morning with the urge to surprise Jimin and be the one to make the first step toward him instead of letting him do all the work. 

Your little heart-to-heart the other day opened your eyes and let you see him in a different light. It made you think that maybe - just maybe, he is not the enemy. Perhaps he is just some guy, trying to get along and make things easier for the both of you and maybe it is your turn to do something nice for him for a change. 

The first thing that came to your mind was surprising him with his favorite coffee (and your presence) right after practice, which is why you went to the dance department for the first time today. 

You spot Jimin in a room at the end of the hallway, after nervously walking around and praying to find him as soon as possible. It looks like he’s still going over some moves whereas most other people are already departing. But as you get closer you see that there's someone else with him. 

You don't know her name but think you've seen her around before. Was it with Nayeon? Or one of Jimin's guy friends? Wherever you saw her before, you're sure she's in Jimin's friend group whatsoever. 

From your point of view, it looks like he's showing her how to get some moves done, and you don't want to interrupt their practice session so you decide to wait at the door until they're done even if that means that you are exposed to the torture of other people's vile looks for even longer.

Today is the first time you see Jimin dance and even if your opinion is perhaps influenced by your untrained eye and therefore doesn't say much, you must admit that he's insanely talented. The way he moves makes it look so easy even though you could never do it like that.

The girl is pretty good Aparrentlytoo, but you can't take your eyes off Jimin. He has something about him that attracts people's attention. You were already aware of that before, but he seems to be having it in everything he does.

A few steps later, just as it looks like she's about to jump into his arms, she suddenly stumbles and... falls into his arms anyway, albeit not very gracefully.

Jimin's quick reflexes have probably just spared her face a collision with the ground and you are glad nothing else has happened. But after she holds on to him for just a tad bit too long and presses her face into his chest to hide her sheepish giggles, you can't help but roll your eyes in annoyance.

“Bad timing?” you almost shock yourself with how unexpectedly loud your voice echoes through the room as you stomp right in and judging by how quickly Jimin turns around to face you, with wide eyes, you’re not the only one. 

You send him a shy grin, suddenly feeling stupid for coming here unannounced and interrupting their practice when you’ve never done that before. What the heck were you thinking?

Jimin wastes no time coming over to you, wearing a big smile on his lips, but his expression still looks confused. "Am I dreaming, or did you leave your place to come visit me here," his gaze quickly wavering to your hands, "and bring me coffee?" he asks, raising a brow.

“What makes you think I’m here for you?” You sass, a little irritated, even though you can’t blame him. This is a pretty unusual situation after all. 

“Right, I’m sorry. I just assumed since I’m the one you asked if it’s bad timing, which it isn’t, by the way,” Jimin laughs.

You roll your eyes, gradually taking one of the coffee cups out of the cup carrier and holding it out for him to take, which he immediately does, smiling brightly as if you gave him a cup of gold instead. 

“Thank you, seriously. I overslept today so I didn’t get the chance to have one before class,” he tells you, quickly taking a sip from his cup and moaning in delight. “I could kiss you right now, but I'm too scared of the reason you're here so please do it quickly. Like... ripping off a Band-Aid. What happened?”

“You’re acting like I didn’t make cupcakes for you and went out of my way to even draw your face on one of them before!” You scoff, feeling a little offended. Unbelievable.

“When you tried to poison me?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” you shrug. “Nothing happened. I just wanted coffee and thought you would too. And you tend to skip breakfast when you have practice but if you don’t want it, I can-”

You’re interrupted by his hand lightly grabbing your wrist as he takes the paper bag out of your hand with a teasing smile. “Thank you, ___.”

“Don’t mention it,” you shrug, feeling shy all of a sudden, so you avoid his gaze. 

A few coughs interrupt your moment and you have to admit that you had already completely forgotten about the other person in the room with you. And Jimin had too, it seems.

You gasp as you take in the girl behind Jimin. “I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb you guys. You can continue if you want. I'll be on my way.“ 

You don't know why you're so insecure today but you're ashamed of yourself. Of course, you wanted to interrupt them. You can't lie to yourself, even if you pray to God they won't see through you.

“Don't go. Leah and I are done here.” Jimin quickly catches your hand to keep you from leaving while his face is still turned to the girl - Leah. “I think you got it now. You just have to be careful not to give it too much momentum, then it will work just fine in the future.”

She looks like she wants to object but Jimin unknowingly doesn't even give her the chance to do so as he packs his things and you and then bids her farewell as he pulls you out of the studio.

Jimin is still holding your hand as he leads you outside. He quickly finds you both a quiet, sunny spot on the large meadow and gets comfortable while pulling you down with him. Since he still hasn't said anything yet, you assume that he doesn't see your interruption as bothersome at all which reassures you a little.

“Hey,“ Jimin whines as he pokes around in his fruit salad. “Where are all the grapes?”

You bite your lip sheepishly, shrugging as you take your phone out of your pocket. “Aw. Did they seriously forget the grapes? What a bummer,” you mumble, while you skillfully ignore his sharp gaze.

Knowing fully well why the grapes are actually missing, Jimin starts to discuss your plans for the rest of the day. 

For the opening of some new club in town, the owners will hold a big celebration tonight. Jimin has suggested that the "gang" (that's what he's been calling it lately whenever you do something together with Nayeon and Hyunjin) meet at your favorite restaurant to eat and then check it out to see if it's worth it.

You’re always on board when it’s about food and as far as you know, the others have already agreed to come and it fills you with excitement. For the first time in so long, it feels like you’re living your life again, going out with friends, eating, drinking, and having fun. That’s how it’s supposed to be. 

Well, it might not be for everyone, and that’s fine too. You enjoy the occasional lazy days at home, but you like to do things once in a while as well. And since you're fake-dating Jimin, you've been doing so much that you can't even think about your dramatic life anymore. 

You didn't even notice that a new neighbor had moved into the apartment next door. You must have looked pretty silly when he introduced himself this morning and mentioned that he'd been there all week, but this was the first time he'd met you.

“Maybe we should ask Jungkook if he wants to join,” you carefully suggest, quietly observing Jimin’s face as you sit next to him with your fingers still lazily intertwined with his. 

You see him furrow his brows almost immediately after those words leave your lips, and he turns his head to look at you. 

“I mean… because I’m sure he would want to come too but doesn’t have anyone to go with,“ you shrug.

“Lots of people from school will be there. He’ll find someone to hang out with like he always does,” Jimin voices, not very interested in your subtle suggestion. 

“What is your problem with him anyway? Why don’t you like him?” You sigh. Neither Jungkook nor anyone else has ever really answered this question for you and you don't expect a clear answer from Jimin either but are still interested in any possible reason.

“No specific explanation, I just don’t,” Jimin answers, without giving it much thought. “Pretty sure he feels the same way. We don’t match, that’s all.”

You pout, not agreeing with him in the slightest, but knowing pretty well there’s no point in arguing. 

“Maybe you should give people a chance once in a while. Who knows, you might find something that’s worth it.”

“Thanks Gandhi. You’re one to talk,” he snorts, sending a wink your way, when he sees the expression on your face. 

“I gave you a chance. That’s more than enough for the next ten years, I’d say,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. 

Jimin laughs, as he swings his arm around you. “And have you found something of worth yet?” He grins, wiggling his eyebrows. 

You gulp as you try to leave his grip, but he only holds you closer, already sensing you trying to get away. “I don’t need to answer that. Your head is big enough,” you chuckle, trying to wiggle your way out again. 

And in a moment of slight distraction, he loosens his grip, resulting in you being able to free yourself as he gasps loudly. “Wait, that means you have!”

“Never said that,” you sing song, skipping through the busy field.

Jimin takes a moment to look after you and smiles before he scoffs out a laugh and runs after you. 

Jimin was right — almost everyone and their mom came to the opening party and for the first time you are glad about Jimin's connections who have reserved a good table for your group of friends. 

While your friends enjoy their time and talk about this and that, you let your gaze wander around, admiring the beautiful, expensive-looking ambiance. It's classic but cool, chic but not snobbish. 

Whatever Nayeon has spent the past few minutes telling you appears to be funny, because suddenly everyone is laughing. Not wanting to let on that you're not listening at all, you also fake a soft laugh, but it's completely lost in the noisy surroundings.

It would probably be more polite to listen and take part in the conversation. Still, you find it incredibly difficult to concentrate on anything when Jimin's hand is far too high up your skirt to be considered appropriate. 

You're not sure exactly what it is, but something seems to be in the water today because his over-touchiness is truly on a different level. 

As always, you sit next to each other and the fact that he has his hand on your thigh is nothing new, Jimin is by no means afraid of contact. It has also happened before that he feels a little too comfortable when it comes to body contact. But today, every warning glance in his direction seems to have no effect, and you can't even count how many times you've grabbed his hand and moved it closer to your knee only for him to move it back up right after.

You don't even know if he's doing it consciously since he hasn't even given you a dirty smirk yet like he always does when he's messing with you. 

And what irritates you the most is how your own body betrays you. As much as you want to claim it, the goosebumps covering your body are not from disgust.

As a way to distract yourself from Jimin, you try to imagine which group of people this place is most likely trying to appeal to as your gaze falls on two, wildly waving arms, attached to a familiar-looking goofball.

A wide grin stretches over your lips as you wave back, which he probably mistakenly sees as an invitation to join you at your table. 

Sensing the drama, you quickly wrap yourself around Jimin’s arm and earn his attention as he gives you a questioning look. “Please be nice,” you plead, making him raise a brow in question before he sees him too.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you hear Jimin mumble to himself.

“Hey, guys! What's up?” Jungkook greets you, not wasting a second before he plops down on the empty seat next to Nayeon’s right side, who looks nothing but confused as to why Jeon Jungkook, whom she never even exchanged a word with has spontaneously joined her group.

“You have to stop inviting yourself to events where you aren’t welcome, man,” Jimin quips, clearly referring to your birthday party and earning a light slap to his thigh from you. 

“Oh, this is your club?” Jungkook counters, not expecting an answer from Jimin. “And who says I wasn’t invited?” Jungkook grins, wiggling his brows as he tries to annoy Jimin even further - and is successful. 

Even without looking at him, you can feel his eyes burning through your skull. “Wasn’t me,” you shrug, quietly sipping your coke. 

And it wasn’t. Even though you had asked about inviting him earlier, you wouldn’t just invite someone to a friendly gathering without letting the other people involved know about it. You wouldn’t like it either if one of the others did it. 

“Nah, don’t worry, she wasn’t going behind your back,” Jungkook chuckles, coming to your rescue. “I just like to crash parties, you know that already. One of my hobbies.”

“How about you go crash it at another table then?” Jimin suggests, sounding overly friendly even though his words suggest everything but kindness. Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. 

But you do. And you’re just about to argue with Jimi about his rude behavior when Hyunjin speaks up first. “Why bother? We have enough space here, you can join if you want. Right, guys?” 

He appears sincere, and you're relieved that at least someone here was brought up with good manners when Nayeon also speaks up. 

“Sure! The more the merrier, I guess,” she smiles brightly, offering him her hand to shake, which he does. 

But Jimin is displeased and he makes anything but a secret of it. Jungkook can sense it too, and even if he likes to get on the older guy's nerves because it’s fun, he doesn’t want you to fight because of him. So he lies and says he has someone waiting for him at a different table before he bids everyone a quick goodbye and leaves again. 

“So the rumors are true,” Hyunjin states, as soon as Jungkook has left around the corner and is nowhere to be seen. You can already feel Jimin tensing up beside you and you feel your heart sink already. 

“You and Jeon actually know each other?” 

You try to hear a condemning tone in his voice but breathe a sigh of relief when you don’t. There’s no judgment. Instead, he sounds and looks surprised.

“They do know each other. Everything else is not true.” Jimin takes it upon himself to answer his friend, not missing the chance to send a daring look his way. 

Hyunjin innocently lifts his hands, trying to show that he didn’t mean to sound judgmental, even if you didn’t think he meant it in a bad way. 

“It’s fine, you can ask me anything,” you smile, trying to tell him that he did nothing wrong. “I’d rather you ask me stuff instead of believing something that isn’t true.”

“He seems nice,” Nayeon chimes in, offering you a kind smile. “He should join us sometime.”

You would agree, but knowing it would upset Jimin, you don’t further argue about it and instead replace the topic of Jungkook with another one. 

About an hour later you find yourself alone in the middle of the long hall that holds the restrooms after you went there with Nayeon. The problem is that you somehow lost her on your way out and now she is nowhere to be seen.

You anxiously look around, full of worry about what might have happened, when you finally see her just a few meters behind you. You breathe out a sigh of relief when you realize she's just chatting with a cute guy. 

She doesn't look annoyed or worried at all. Instead, she seems interested, if you interpret her body language and flirty looks correctly, so you decide to give her some privacy and not disturb her, but stay close by to jump in at any time if you need to.

“Bit creepy, don’t you think?” A voice appears right next to your ear, making you twitch in sudden fright. 

“Jesus Christ, Jeon. Stop appearing out of nowhere, you freak!”

“It was too tempting.“ He looks like a supermodel as he leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes squinted shut while he laughs at your frightened state.

“Anyway, why are you spying on Lee Nayeon? I thought we hated her 'cause she treated you like shit,” he asks, taking his eyes off you and frowns at Nayeon instead when he says that. 

“First of all, we?” you raise a brow, sending him a questioning look, “second of all, we made up ages ago. Please keep up with the reality drama show that is my life. Thank you.”

“How am I supposed to do that if you never tell me anything?” 

You sigh, copying his theatrical expression. “Why did you leave earlier?” You then change the topic while stealing glances at Nayeon every once in a while.

“Really?” Jungkook scoffs. “I think your boyfriend had a problem with me being there.”

You can’t help but grin wildly while crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you scared of him?”

You see him opening his mouth, but before he can answer, Jimin comes walking around the corner at a fast pace, surprising the two of you.

“I should have known you were behind this,” he grunts, looking at Jungkook. 

“What did I do now?” Jungkook sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Do you need to buzz around her like a fly all the time? It’s starting to get pathetic, Jeon.”

You can see that Jungkook is about to lose his temper, which implies that Jimin is slowly but surely getting on his nerves a little too much. However, this brief flash in Jungkook's eyes disappears as quickly as it appeared. Instead, a grin of satisfaction spreads across his lips.

“What are you so scared of? She isn’t even your real girlfriend.” 

If his expression is anything to go by, Jungkook appears to be just as shocked by his slip-up as Jimin is. Even though you never explicitly mentioned it, he knows he wasn't supposed to tell Jimin about being aware of your plan. But looks like he couldn't resist exposing Jimin without considering the consequences.

Before any more things are said that are better kept quiet, you step in and tell Jungkook that he should leave. You prepare yourself for the inevitable confrontation with Jimin that awaits you as soon as you turn to face him.

“You told Jeon about us?!” Jimin is attempting to lower his voice to avoid attracting unwanted listeners, but the bulging vein on his neck reveals his current rage.

“Calm down,” you hiss, putting your hands against his chest. “He has known from the start. He wasn’t going to believe me anyway, trust me,” you explain, watching the frown on his face turn deeper.

“Well, thank you very much, ___,” Jimin pouts, making you roll your eyes. 

“What? It’s no secret that we don’t like each other that much. If we would, it wouldn’t be so hard for us to make other people believe us.”

It looks like Jimin wants to argue about that but he decides against it, biting his lip instead as he glares at the cup in his hands.

“You don’t have to worry about anything. He won’t tell on us.”

“How do you know that?” He exclaims, wildly flaring his hands around. “You don’t know him, ___. Nobody fucking knows him! We never know where he goes when he suddenly disappears for days! He’s a fucking ninja!”

“I know enough to be sure he will keep our secret, trust me.”

“Yea no, thank you. I already made that mistake once,” he hisses, turning to leave again but you stop him, quickly grabbing his hand.

“Come on don't be mad at me,” you sigh, tugging on his hand to keep him from leaving you there. “I’m sorry, Jimin, I didn’t mean to upset you. Please don’t be mad at me,” you plead, trying your best to prevent another fight between you both. You do feel bad because even if you don’t know the exact reason for all this, you know, that it means a lot to him and you don’t wanna fuck it up the way you seem to fuck everything else up. 

“It’s not like I told him so we can joke about you behind your back or make you look stupid. That’s not the case. He just figured it out immediately. But he hasn’t told anyone, and he isn’t going to, I swear.”

Jimin takes a moment before he gives you an answer, deeply studying your face as if he’s looking for any indication that you’re lying to him. “Is that also why he’s always around?”

“I mean he’s kinda strange. He spawns whenever to be honest,” you shrug, “but he does try to look out for me, I think. He says he doesn’t trust your intentions.” 

Something between a scoff and a laugh comes between Jimin’s lips when he hears you say that but contrary to your expectation, he doesn’t comment on it. 

Wherever Jimin goes, he sees them strutting around like royalty, holding their heads high, as if they haven't done anything wrong. It's as if they hadn't betrayed their childhood friends and partners, as if it was nothing. They act like they haven't taken advantage of you without your knowledge and made you look ridiculous in front of the entire school.

They walk around as if nothing happened and they have the nerve to even look at him and greet him. Even if it’s just from afar. And what’s even worse is that no one other than the people involved seems to remember or, well, care. It makes Jimin’s blood boil.

He doesn’t deserve that. Nayeon doesn’t deserve that. YOU do not deserve that.

How little shame can two people have?

Jimin can’t help but glare at them until they get swallowed by the crowd and are no longer in his sight after what feels like an eternity. It takes a lot for him to calm down again but when he sees you and Nayeon dancing together, having fun, and not caring about anything else, it makes him feel even worse about himself. 

He doesn’t want to be the only one stuck in the past. It’s not like he wants to think about them anyway but it’s hard for him to move on from all of this when it’s just so… unresolved. 

How come they get away with everything without having to pay for anything they did?

Completely lost in his head and frowning down into his drink, he doesn’t see you creeping up to him until he feels your arms wrap around him from behind. “Why aren’t you having fun?” 

The feeling of your breath right next to his ear sends shivers down his spine and he doesn’t even have to look into your glassy eyes to know you’re already enjoying yourself. 

You’re not drunk, but it’s safe to say you’ve had a couple of drinks by now because you’re never this touchy when it comes to him - not that he’s complaining now. 

“Who says I’m not?”

“Hm, I don’t know…” You squint your eyes, pursing your lips slightly as you study him. “The frown between your eyes, your clenched jaw, or the way you hold your glass so tightly your knuckles don't contain even a drop of blood anymore. Choose one.” 

“Nothing escapes your otherworldly instincts I’m afraid,” Jimin sighs dramatically as he takes your hand in his and reverses your position until you're pressed to his chest with his free arm around your back, making you suck in a breath from surprise. “But maybe I’m just jealous you spend all your time with Nayeon and not with me, babygirl.”

“Very funny,” you huff, desperately trying to hide how flustered his words make you. “But if you insist,” you smirk, letting your hands teasingly wander up his chest until you intertwine them around his shoulders. “I’ll spend it with you from now on.” You see him gulp and it makes your heart skip a beat from satisfaction — two can play this game, Park. 

“I know you think this is you getting the upper hand, but what if this is exactly what I want?” 

“Honestly, wouldn’t surprise me since you’re joking about getting in my pants ever since we met,” you feign a grin.

“How can you still think I’m joking?” He smirks, slowly leaning forward to slightly press a kiss behind your ear.

It takes a lot from you not to make a sound and you’re just about to push him off of you when something in the corner catches your eyes, making a fictional lightbulb appear above your head.

“Kiss me,” you say, placing one hand under his chin to make him look at you.

The sudden look of confusion on his face quickly turns into a pleased expression as he tightens his arms around your waist even more, leans in, and starts kissing you. 

When his lips first touch yours, they feel soft and so familiar that it's as if you've been transported back in time. The last time he kissed you, you were drunk out of your mind, but it seems like you haven't forgotten the way his lips feel on yours. 

The kiss gets heated very quickly when he lets his tongue slip in between your lips to find yours. One of his hands moves to the back of your neck to tilt your head towards him and grant him more access, eliciting a breathless moan from you.

He kisses you deep like that for what feels like a small eternity, letting his tongue fight with yours before he breaks it again. You didn't even realize how urgently you need to catch your breath until his lips only hover above yours.

“Happy?” Jimin asks hoarsely, smiling down at you.

You nod before you clear your throat in desperate need to get your pathetic self together and find your voice again.

“Yeah… I'd say that was a success,” you say, biting your lower lip as he raises an eyebrow.

“Yeji was walking in so I asked you to kiss me to make her jealous and it worked because she left when she saw us kissing and she looked pissed,” you ramble, a little surprised when you see his confident smile slowly fade. 

“Oh.”, he rasps. “Right, uhm...” 

Jimin slowly lets go of you and returns to his earlier spot beside you. You cannot help but notice a slight difference in his behavior compared to earlier. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, trying to make him look at you but he’s frowning down at the floor again, not even turning his head in your direction.

“That’s… That’s still the plan, right?” You don’t even know why you’re asking such dumb questions. It is still the plan of course and yet, you feel like you have to apologize for faking a supposed intimate moment with him.

“Yes,” he quips, looking at you for a millisecond before he clears his throat. “I need to use the restroom.” 

And with that, he’s gone and you feel like the biggest idiot. You should have told him about your real intentions when you asked him to kiss you because now it feels like you lead him on and you feel dumb about feeling like that when you shouldn’t because that’s the only reason you should be asking him to kiss you anyway isn’t it? And ugh, when did things get so complicated?

“Everything okay?” Nayeon asks as she comes walking to you. “Where did he go?”

“Oh yeah, he just needed to use the restroom,” you say, trying to muster up a smile which seems to be enough for her to let it go for now. You’re trying not to let it show how much his sudden behavior confuses you as well.

“I know I say it all the damn time but I love the two of you together so much,” Nayeon gushes, making you cringe internally. You send her the fakest smile ever, but she doesn’t even notice. 

“He seems so much more like himself when you’re around.” 

Nayeon is sweet but what is that even supposed to mean? 

"He's just so much more...” 

“Horny?” 

Nayeon gasps, giving your arm a light slap before you both fall into fits of laughter. 

“No, ___, not horny. He’s calmer. More relaxed. He lets go of this golden boy image in your presence. It’s nice to see because that was never really him anyway. It’s just that… he sometimes tries too hard, you know? And it’s a shame because he’s already pretty cool the way he is.”

You find yourself listening intently when she explains and you think you can agree with some of that. 

From what you’ve known so far, Jimin is someone with a big ego and plenty of confidence. However, it seems like he's a different person every time he interacts within his social circles. As if he always has to try not to lose his position. He's different when it's just your little group. And you wonder if it has anything to do with what he told you a while ago. That all these people, all his contacts are nothing but a facade. That he has close to no real friends.

That's probably the saddest thing he's ever told you about himself and yet you just accepted it and never really gave it a second thought.

"Well, anyway, whatever you're doing, you're doing great. Thank you," Nayeon gives you a warm smile before she shifts her attention to something else.

You think about her words for a while, but the longer you do, the worse you feel. You do not deserve her praise in the slightest.

You’re the worst fake girlfriend ever.

This night did not turn out the way Jimin wanted it to. It was supposed to be a nice night out with a couple of friends to have fun and make some good memories. He thought it was more than necessary for all of you but perhaps he shouldn't have set his expectations too high. Now he’s in a bad mood, sitting on a brick wall right outside the club and getting drunk on his own.

He knows he can't stay here for much longer, knowing that you will probably be looking for him soon. He has also promised not to leave you alone anymore, and yet here he is. The only thing that reassures him is that Nayeon is with you, which is why he's not in such a hurry right now. He just needed a moment to think. One moment to come clean with himself. And the best way to achieve that is probably not by getting drunk alone, but sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.

A lot is happening tonight, and right now, he doesn’t have a healthier way of coping with the mess inside his head, so this will have to do.

He isn’t even one hundred percent sure why he’s in such a sour mood all of a sudden but he blames it on all the little inconveniences he has encountered throughout the night. 

First Jeon appears out of nowhere — again, then he finds out that you told Jeon about your deal ages ago, he is once again being forced to see Taehyung and Yeji and if that wasn’t enough already, you only let him kiss you to make Yeji jealous. 

The last point shouldn't be a problem. He's aware of that. After all, you're just trying to help him and keep this stupid deal without crossing any boundaries which you are so persistent on. But he can’t help but feel so stupid for not realizing it at the time and thinking you wanted him to kiss you when you’ve made it more than clear multiple times that that’s not something you’re interested in. 

Yes, your dynamics have undoubtedly changed, and you are much more open to spontaneous flirting and subtle touches these days, but your fundamental attitude toward the whole thing is still the same, and Jimin accepts that. He would never want you to be uncomfortable or anything. 

A group of very loud people interrupts his sulking but he doesn’t find it in himself to even look up from his half-empty bottle of— what was it again? He doesn’t remember what he got but hey, it’s a sign that it’s working, right?

“Woah hey buddy, you alright?” It is the voice that suddenly arouses his interest after all. “Why are you out here by yourself Jimin? Where is your girl?” 

Jimin's head jerks up as soon as he hears the voice of the person addressing him directly. He wants to see if he is dreaming or if the person he believes is really standing in front of him but the movement is perhaps a little too fast for him in his current state because everything starts to turn at that very moment and he can’t see straight.

Fortunately, it doesn't take long before everything stops spinning and his eyes manage to focus again, landing on a stupidly smirking Taehyung.

And suddenly Jimin can feel his anger in his whole body as he knocks his opponent's hand off his shoulder. “Don’t touch me. What the fuck are you doing?”

He may be a little tipsy right now but he’s in his senses enough to bring as much space as possible between him and this lying, cheating bastard.

“I’m just trying to help,” Taehyung says, adding a small unnecessary scoff at the end which doesn’t rub Jimin the right way. 

“I don't need your help, you've done enough already,” he quips, glaring at Taehyung. "I can't believe you even dare to talk to me. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Taehyung looks annoyed and not even remotely interested in having this conversation when he rolls his eyes disrespectfully.

"Look, I understand what I did wasn't great, and you have every right to be mad. But don't you think you're being a bit dramatic? It's been months, Jimin, and you still refuse to talk to me. You won't even acknowledge me."

Jimin scoffs out a laugh, taken aback by what Taehyung just said.“Even if it had been years, I’d still not talk to you!” Jimin’s anger grows with every passing second, his feet bringing him closer to his ex-best friend without him even noticing. No doubt the alcohol is playing a part in the way he struggles with calming himself down right now but Taehyung’s sole appearance and the way he tries to make him look like the bad guy is pissing him off. "You've got some nerve coming up to me and acting as if nothing happened."

“You should learn to let things go man.”

Taehyung barely finishes his sentence before Jimin shoves him hard, making him stumble back a couple of steps. The stupid look on his face alone was worth it.

“Maybe you should learn to own up to your mistakes and keep other people’s names out of your mouth.”

Another hard push to Taehyung’s chest made him stumble back into one of his friends. Taehyung pushes back and italmost escalates until someone suddenly intervenes and pulls Jimin out of the conflict by standing between them.

Jimin glares at Taehyung, breathing heavily in anger as he is gently pushed further back to create some space.

“There’s no need to do this here right now, Jimin. Especially when you’re in this state,” a calm voice directed at him tries to appease him.

Even though his eyes only alternate between Taehyung and Yeji, Jimin knows that it's Jungkook, who is trying to mediate. But he doesn't have the head or the attention to think about why it's him of all people who stops him from doing something inevitably stupid right now.

He ignores Jungkook, completely captivated by how Taehyung steps closer again, despite Yeji grabbing his arm to try and keep him from it. 

“If you have something to say then fucking do it. Or tuck tail and let others sort it out for you like you always do.”

“He’s just trying to rile you up. Don’t stoop to his level.“ Jungkook gives Jimin another nudge, hoping he’ll listen and remove himself from the situation. “Come on, let’s find ___.” 

“Yeah, better listen to your girlfriend’s boyfriend.” Taehyung snickers, his posture toughening up when he hears approving laughter from his friends.

This time, Jimin is ready to wipe the smirk off of his face for good, but Jungkook beats him to it, his eyes full of bottled-up anger.

“You’re one to talk. Don’t you have one of your hookups waiting for you? The one from last week is somewhere around here. I saw her earlier.” Jungkook clips, clearly irritated as well before successfully turning Jimin away from him.

The last thing Jimin sees is a fuming Yeji going at a dumbfounded Taehyung before Jungkook leads him around a corner. 

“I just made that up,” Jungkook admits with his jaw still clenched. “Gave him some of his own medicine. Looks like his girlfriend doesn’t trust him that much,” he adds, a sheepish chuckle leaving his lips.

Although still quite agitated, Jimin can’t help but grin at that. “He deserved it.”

“He did.”

He is considering what to say next, feeling awkward in Jungkook's presence now that he stood up for him when he didn't have to. Normally, he would think that Jungkook would have been happy to watch this fight escalate, but instead, he mediated and even took his side. 

Jimin knows Jungkook didn't do it for him but for your sake. He's still pleasantly surprised by Jungkook's unexpected actions, especially since Jimin never has anything nice to say to the younger guy.

Fortunately for him, Nayeon suddenly pops up, followed by you, interrupting the uncomfortable atmosphere.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Nayeon is the first to reach him. You're holding back a little, but the look in your eyes reveals that you're also worried. “Some people were saying you and Taehyung got into a fight. We were looking for you.”

“Ah, Taehyung was just trying to start something. Don’t worry though, nothing happened,” Jungkook explains before Jimin gets to say anything. 

While Nayeon refuses to accept this answer and asks Jimin for further details, Jungkook leans down towards you. “Take him home. I think it’s better we bring as much space between them as we can and something tells me Taehyung isn’t gonna leave soon.”

You know there's more to it than just Taehyung trying to start something, but you decide not to pester the boys anymore. You don't feel like partying anymore anyway, so you give him a silent nod and walk towards Jimin, who gives you a surprised look when you suddenly take his hand. “Let’s go home, yeah? I don’t feel like staying here any longer.”

Remembering how you two parted earlier, you're not sure how he'll react, which makes you a little uneasy. Luckily for you, a slight smile creeps onto Jimin's lips and you feel him squeeze your hand lightly as he nods in agreement.

The rest of the group agrees to leave as well. Eventually, you all find yourselves in a cab about twenty minutes later.

The last thirty-ish minutes have sobered him up, but something in you doesn't feel comfortable leaving Jimin alone, so you quickly decide for him that you only have one stop, which doesn't appear to bother him, although he seems quite surprised. 

You can't blame him. Not so long ago, you wouldn't have expected that you would voluntarily spend more time with him than necessary. Yet, here you are, inviting him to stay the night at yours.

He still hasn't said much to you - he hasn't said much in general since you left the club and it's hard to tell if it's because of you or if he just doesn't feel like it right now. 

He already lays comfortably in your bed when you come out of the bathroom. Part of you wants to complain about his audacity and condemn him to the couch. But in the end, you've already crossed that line before. Your bed is big enough to prevent discomfort, while your couch is sometimes too uncomfortable even to sit on.

So you don’t say anything while you climb into the space next to him. 

You lie there in silence, pondering what you should do before you finally take the initiative and break it with a silent whisper. “Are you okay?”

A long sigh leaves Jimin’s lips as he drives his hands through his face. “No, I’m an idiot.”

“Hey, it’s not like that’s news,” you grin, trying to make him smile but unlike usual, your bickering does not stir anything in him so you feel a little stupid for trying to lift the spirit like that when he’s obviously not in the mood. “I know you're not particularly into that, but do you want to tell me about it? I promise I can be serious when I need to be.”

He doesn’t reply for a while which you take as him not being interested. You know that as an emotional cripple yourself, you have no right to but it still makes you mad that he always refuses to open up about the stuff that went down when it bothers him.

“Yeji hurt you with what she did. I know you try to deny it and act like you don’t care whenever someone talks to you about it but you cared about her. And what she did, hurt you. I don’t know why you won’t admit it and if everyone juststraight up chooses to believe your bullshit then that’s on them but I can see right through that act.” 

You feel your fist grip your blanket in frustration when he still refuses to say anything and you huff in annoyance. “You can't even look at her and go almost manic every time someone even mentions her or Taehyung's name.”

You sigh. It’s not your intention to force him to talk to you, of course. But he must know he can confide in you. You have already figured him out anyway. “I’m mad too but it’s not healthy to keep all that in, trust me.“

“She broke my heart.” His voice is quiet, and you might have missed it if you weren’t lying there in complete silence. Still, it holds so much pain that it almost makes you wince as you turn your head, trying to see the expression on his face. His eyes stare right at the ceiling, brows creased slightly as he scoffs. “You’re right I never talk to anyone about it. And I hate to admit it but she did break my heart.”

“Because you loved her,” you whisper understandingly, turning your head to look straight at the ceiling once more.

“At one point I did. Not in the end anymore though. She broke my heart but I’m not talking about the cheating stuff.”

You don’t quite understand, and you’re just about to ask what he means when you hear his voice again. 

“It happened over a long period,” he rasps. “I was really in love with her in the beginning, but she changed. Or maybe I changed. Things changed. I don’t know.” He says, furrowing his brows, unpleased that he struggles to name it. “We hadn’t been close for a while when it happened, at least emotionally. I know she felt it just as much as I did, and maybe I’m to blame too for not breaking up with her as soon as I felt… close to nothing.”

“She could’ve broken up with you too. Lots of couples go through that at some point. It doesn’t justify cheating,” you argue, feeling yourself get worked up at him saying that before you remind yourself that it’s not the right moment for that. You don’t think that’s what Jimin needs or wants to hear right now. “At least that’s what I think.” 

“Anyway, it doesn't matter much, considering our relationship was pretty much over. Don't get me wrong, I am mad at her too. But Taehyung is the one who broke my heart this time,“ he then sighs. “I just don't get it.“ 

The frustration in his voice is clearly audible, and even if you've never experienced this exact situation, you know what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you used to trust.

“We grew up together. I used to tell him everything, he knew about my problems with Yeji. I wanted to save my relationship. He listened to me, comforted me, and gave me advice. All that while secretly having an affair with her behind my back?“ He sounds genuinely crushed while telling you all that.

“Who does that, ___?“

You have a lot of suitable terms for such people, but you know he doesn't expect an answer, at least not one like that. Since you've known him, he's already called Taehyung every insult under the sun himself, so that isn't what he needs.

“There are so many questions left unanswered in my head. Has he always been like this? If not, when did he change? If yes, why did I never notice anything? Was I like this as well and only noticed now because it's affecting me for the first time?“

It's the last question that really troubles him. You can see that right away.

“Some people are good at only showing you the sides of themselves that they want you to know. That doesn't necessarily make you simple-minded or blind. It just makes them good manipulators,“ you try to explain as best as you can. “Take it from someone who started with the worst opinion of you and has put up with your cocky ass every day since - you're a lot of things, Park Jimin, but you're not like that.“

Even though you didn't say much, his shaky exhale shows how much weight your words carry for him.

A couple of moments pass in silence between you two and you almost think he has fallen asleep when you feel the warmth of his hand engulfing your own.

“Thank you.” His words pass as a whisper. “For having my back in this.” 

Even in the dim light emitting from your bedside lamp, you can see the sincerity in his eyes as he gifts you a grateful smile and you can’t help but join in as you give his hand a slight squeeze. “Of course. As your fake girlfriend, that's kind of my job,” you reason, not thinking much of it.

His brows crease. “Yes. Your job,” he mutters.

He doesn’t say anything after that and neither do you but you still can't switch off. There's still something that keeps you awake. It’s an intrusive thought for sure and you’d be damned to give into that, but it won’t let you rest. 

You can't see from your position right now whether he's still awake or not, and you're too nervous to check. But you don't think you can sleep if you leave it as it is. 

“Jimin?” you whisper. Your teeth dig into your lower lip in agony.

You hope he doesn't hear you — or that maybe he's already asleep. You tried and that should be enough to silence your thoughts. After all, it's not as if you can just wake him up—

“Yes?”

Not only is he not sleeping yet, he sounds as awake as you feel. You nervously nibble on your bottom lip for a moment while you try to weigh up what you're about to do. 

You can feel his questioning gaze on you even before you lift your head, but it is ten times more penetrating the momentyour eyes meet. He is lying on his back with his head turned towards you, dark eyes looking up at you expectantly.

The little bedside lamp doesn't exactly provide a lot of light, but it's just enough for you to see the outline of his face. You carefully lift your hand and place it on his cheek before leaning forward without a comment. Out of uncertainty, you stop in front of his face and reconsider as your lips hover over his for a second. 

He must know by now what your intention is and even though he is anticipating your next move, he isn't moving a muscle, once again not wanting to accidentally rush you into anything you might not want.

You can feel his breath on your lips and figure that if you've already come this far anyway, there's no point in turning back now so you quietly close the gap and let your lips meet in a gentle kiss. 

Despite the circumstances of neither one of you being drunk or in public right now, it doesn’t feel awkward at all. It's quite the opposite. 

It goes against both, your principles and your ego to be the one to orchestrate a kiss, especially if it's a kiss that has no meaning in the course of your deal. And even though you feel the heat shooting into your cheeks and the tips of your ears, you don't care.

At first, your shared kiss is sweet and innocent, completely different from the one before, but no less breathtaking - literally. He lets you take the lead but kisses you back just as eagerly. 

His lips fit perfectly with yours and at some point, you completely lose track of time and instead lose yourself in your kiss.

You don't know how much time passes, but you are the one who eventually breaks away from him. Or at least you try to, but you only have a momentary chance to catch your breath because Jimin isn't having it, quickly lifting himself up and using his right elbow to keep himself upright while his other hand finds its place at the back of your neck to glide you back into him. 

His lips are back on yours in no time, your kiss turning more eager now that he’s taking control and it’s not long after that you feel his tongue on your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You grant him and in no time, your kiss that was so innocent just a minute ago turns into a full-on make-out session in your bed. 

It gives you flashbacks of the night at the bonfire. The only difference is that neither of you is drunk this time. A small but possibly significant difference depending on how far you’re willing to take it this time.

You’re already too far gone when the next thing you notice is how he swaps your positions in a simple move, making you the one lying underneath him.

Originally it was supposed to be nothing more than a simple kiss. It felt like the right thing to do after the awful night and the little heart-to-heart you two had but now that he has you under him it doesn’t feel that bad at all…

He’s letting his hand wander all over your curves and the moment you move yours just a little from around his neck is when you notice he’s not even wearing a shirt.

The little fucker snuck into your bed without having the decency to at least wear something. Although, since you practically forced him to spend the night with you without him having any clothes here, you can’t judge him for that.

He lets his hands wander under your shirt, when he realizes you're not backing down. The tips of his fingers leave hot trails on your skin, his own skin burning under your touch as you glide your hands down his chest.

Your fingertips linger at the level of his navel for a while, anxious to go lower only to be rejected again. You don’t think you can endure that humiliation again, especially not while being sober.

But any doubts are gone the moment he takes the initiative and bucks his hips into you, immediately making you moan in pleasure when you feel yourself getting more aroused. 

It's not enough for you though and you feel yourself getting more eager by every passing second. You eagerly let your hips sway and press your center against his crotch, moaning as you rub against him.

His hands grab your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh so hard you think he might leave bruises as he tries to bring you even closer. 

Since everything seems to move too slowly for your liking, you’re just about to take your top off, when he suddenly untangles himself from you with a low curse.

“You’re not doing this out of pity, are you?” 

His voice doesn't sound judgmental or disappointed in any way, but it's unmistakably important to him that whatever happens, happens because you want it to.

Still in a daze, you need to find your words so you only shake your head. And you don’t even have the time to wait for his reaction before you’re chasing his lips again. Unfortunately, it does not suffice for more than a short peck before he breaks away again, even making a desperate whine escape you.

You don't even manage to be ashamed of how obviously you want him when the way he looks at you right now tells you he feels the same way.

He chews his lip while his eyes pierce you, looking for even the smallest detail that you might not be in your right mind but not able to find anything.

So he slowly inches closer again, captivated by the the way you let your tongue glide over your lips to wet them and he smirks. 

“And you’re not going to pretend you don’t remember anything tomorrow morning?”

You roll your eyes, annoyed he can’t stop teasing you about that incident but not in the mood for any more bickering when he could do so much more with that mouth of his.

“Depends on whether you make it worth remembering,” you smirk.

It was meant as a joke, but it probably came across more as a challenge the way his eyes darken at your words. And it gets you excited. 

He gets to it immediately, finally taking off your top in a hurry and locking your lips again in a heated kiss as his hands wander further down to take the rest of your clothes off. 

You are now lying completely naked underneath him, which makes your heart beat a little faster. As if he senses your nervousness, he takes it slow, trailing his kisses from the corner of your mouth to your cheek and further down to your neck where he lets his tongue run over your skin in a gentle circle that has your eyes roll back into your head. 

But there's still something in the back of your mind that won't let you relax completely, and you need to get it off your chest.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, yeah?”

“Of course not,” he rasps in between light nips to your neck that would have you weak in your knees if you weren’t already lying down.

It seems like this confirmation is the last thing you need, to let go completely, with no second-guessing thoughts left. Jimin seems to notice too, feeling how your body melts against his when he lets his kisses trail further down your neck to your chest. 

“Man, you’re gorgeous.”

Him praising you like that makes your stomach flip, but it also raises a few new concerns. Since you need to keep your relationship as platonic as possible, compliments that affect you like that are dangerous territory. To avoid spoiling the atmosphere, you remain silent, hoping things will stay that way.

Jimin starts gently. He places kisses around one of your hardened nubs before taking it into his mouth, sucking and nibbling until you respond with a breathless moan. He then moves on to the other one, repeating his actions until he’ssatisfied with your reaction. 

You’re trembling at this point, squirming beneath him to try and get any kind of friction against the heat between your legs - the only part of your body he hasn’t touched yet. 

The little whines and moans that escape your throat intensify when his hand replaces his mouth on your breast, squeezing it while his other hand slowly wanders down your body. He begins with just two fingers pressing down your soaked center. 

Jimin is considerate and gentle, allowing you time to relax and become accustomed to his touch. However, he also gets straight to the point and fortunately does not attempt to tease you initially and you're very grateful for that. 

His thumb brushes over your clit in slow circles finally releasing some of the pressure that has built up by now, letting your moans intensify with every stroke as you feel his pointer and middle finger circle your entrance. 

Feeling how ready you are to take not one but two fingers without much preparatory work, he stops, raising a questioning eyebrow with a mischievous glint in his eyes. But you interrupt him before he has the chance to comment on it.

“Don’t open your mouth and ruin it,“ you warn.

Jimin lets out a breathy laugh, swallows whatever he was about to say, and then dives back into kissing you hard while pushing them in, in one swift motion, making you moan from the surprise and the pleasure engulfing you all at once.

He moves them in and out a couple of times, picking up the pace as he does so all while letting his thumb take care of your aking nub.

Your hips begin to roll upwards, trying to fulfill the need to feel as much of him as possible. You don't even care anymore about how desperate you come off as long as he gives you what you need. And it's not like he isn't affected at all. 

His teeth dig so hard into his lower lip that he might just be drawing blood by now while his eyes wander over your entire body in a desperate attempt to burn this image so deeply into his brain that he will never forget it again. 

He takes a moment to watch his fingers glide in and out of you, wandering up higher over your smooth stomach up to your perfectly shaped breasts pushing up whenever you arch your back to meet his thrusts, and finally your contorted face. Eyes closed, lips parted, allowing every little moan to escape, just how he likes it.

He dives back in to kiss you again, capturing all the beautiful sounds you make along the way. But he doesn't have the chance to enjoy it for long when you break the kiss soon after.

“I'm ready now,“ you gasp.

Jimin eagerly nods, jumping out of bed to clumsily remove his boxers and get something from his jeans. You don't have to ask him to know what he's getting, but you still can't help but wonder...

“You came prepared?” 

He only looks over at you briefly before concentrating on opening the pack and putting on the condom, very careful not to keep you waiting for too long.

“I always come prepared,“ he affirms. “The way you're always hitting on me… phew,” he jokes, rolling his eyes before he sends a wink your way.

You almost regret letting it get this far in the first place, and you're afraid you'll backtrack if his mouth isn't busy with you again soon and more words come out.

“Just make it quick. I’m losing more and more interest the longer I hear you talk.”

You hear him laugh, but just a blink of an eye later, he's back, and he doesn't let a moment pass before he eagerly kisses you again, his thumb lightly pressing your clit again. A moan escapes your throat before you can suppress it, and he uses it to dip his tongue inside, brushing it against yours.

Not wasting any time, he nudges your thighs apart and positions himself between your legs, guiding his cock up and down your slit a few times until he positions it right at your slick opening.  

“Do you need me to prep you some more or are you good?“ he groans, feeling the warmth of your heat consume him.

“Yea, yea, just put it in,“ you whisper hurriedly, physically and mentally unable to wait any longer.

“Wow, could you be any more romantic?“ Jimin chuckles, a playful pout forming on his lips, mischief shining in his eyes. 

“I don’t want romance. I want you inside of me.“ 

“I’m sensitive, baby, I need to be charmed. Say please?“ He grins childishly, knowing exactly what he's doing.

Oh, he's having so much fun right now, although he knows you're going to make him pay for that one way or another. But he can't help it.

Not only does it turn him on like crazy, but seeing you be so desperate for him is something he knows will never happen again so he needs to enjoy it as much as he can.

“Jimin,“ you whine, partly upset and partly frantic, as he hums in acknowledgment.

The way his cock is sliding with ease through your folds while he waits for you to give in is taking a toll on him too. He is good at restraint and self-control and it would be more than embarrassing to be the first to give in in this game he has started but he might just need to if you don't soon.

You sigh, fists clenching your sheets for all the wrong reasons. Why is this man always like this in such inappropriate situations?

Clenching your jaw you look at him with the deepest scowl while mustering the sweetest voice possible. “Jimin, please please please fuck me. I need you and I can’t wait any longer, please.“

And that's all it takes for him to crumble completely. “Good girl. How could I say no to that.“

Once more, he positions himself right at your entrance and starts moving his hips forward. Anytime but now, you'd be embarrassed by how easily he's able to slide in, but your head is empty, mind numb the moment he's finally fully inside, filling you up.

You don't need time to adapt and that's probably clear to both of you, because the very next moment he starts pumping in and out with such hard and fast movements, you almost see stars. You push your hips up against him, trying to meet his thrusts, your hands clinging tightly to his arms while moan after moan escapes your lips.

There's not a single thought in your head. His rough moans fill your ears as he momentarily slows his strokes to a sensual grind as he leans down to suck on your nipples, causing you to throw your head back, completely overwhelmed with pleasure. 

He talks a lot of pretentious bullshit but when it comes to this, you must admit he has the goods to back it up.

You feel yourself getting closer with every delicious stroke he gives you, the tip of his cock reaching the perfect spot again and again. But you need more.

“Harder,“ you pant, digging your nails deeper into the flesh of his arms. 

Jimin hears you loud and clear, following your instructions almost a bit too eagerly which suggests that he needs it just as much. Still fully inside you, he gently lets his hands brush down to your knees grabs the back of your knees, and pushes your legs upwards. 

The new angle allows his cock to reach even deeper, making the both of you moan when he picks up speed again. One of his hands is gripping your thigh tightly, surely leaving bruises, while he moves the other down to your clit, teasing it while he pounds into you as hard as he can.

“Goddamn,“ he gasps while he watches you squirm under him. There is little in life that Jimin takes so seriously. But even though there are more than enough opportunities to tease you verbally right now, he can't concentrate on anything but eliciting more of those needy moans from you.

He's close as well. Luckily for him, it only takes a few more thrusts and he feels you tighten around him. As a response, he rubs your clit faster which eventually pushes you over the edge as more and more loud, whiny moans just spill out of you.

Your pussy lazily pulsating around his cock while you slowly come down is what it takes for him to let go as well. He feels his balls tighten instantly before his dick finally blows, making him tumble over and groan into the crook of your neck. 

You don't stay like this for long, only waiting for you both to come down from your highs before Jimin lazily rolls off you. 

Pushing some damp strands out of his face, he can't stop himself from grinning contentedly. When he turns his head to see your expression, he notices you staring at the ceiling, nibbling your lip in deep thought. You do look satisfied and there is no trace of regret, thankfully. But there is a trace of concern that emanates from you.

Jimin's expression softens, his hand slowly reaching for yours which makes you look at him as well. 

You both exchange subtle smiles, silently agreeing not to worry about anything until the morning. And you don't. You sleep like a baby.

tagged: @ggukkieland | @ttaeby | @rkvi | @cuteipat | @pjiminslove | @mawwnsterr | @aamalaaa | @spideyxxboi | @lil-sracha | @katsbqbe | @bex-92br | @natalie-rdr | @canarystwin | @wespers-jaan | @bangtanxcoffee | @bri-mal | @so-kou | @lonleycoffee | @rjsmochii | @kiwiaroha | @chimchimmarie | @scoupshawt | @xmochiloverx | @kristinkristinuk | @thejiminshieffect | @yes-fangirl-things | @cuteinjapanese | @leticiaesteveslp | @jkkkkkay | @miss-rainy-days | @bangtan4everr | @i-never-post-but-i-am-here | @dumdaradumdaradum | @thesmeraldogirl | @deliciouslydeliciouspenguin

[hooked-on-elvis]

EP Playing Touch Football

This ripped shirt reminded me of something Jerry wrote in his book. I wonder if this shirt ended up ripping accidentally, with a random, non-directed pull (maybe E even ripped the shirt himself, somehow), or if the guys still gave El a harder time than they did the other players every time he played with them (I didn't notice any other guys with the torn clothes).

JERRY SCHILLING'S MEMORIES OF PLAYING FOOTBALL WITH ELVIS:

At one of our bigger games in the spring of 1955, we’d been playing for a while when a couple of very large men showed up and asked if they could get in the game. They explained that they were semipro players, had heard about the Elvis games, and wanted to be a part of it. The rest of us were not so eager to play with these big guys, but as far as Elvis was concerned, these players were stepping onto his turf and he wasn’t going to stand down. He wanted them in.

We worked out the teams again to include them and got set to play. On one of the first offensive drives, Elvis was taking a break from quarterbacking duties and was on the line blocking. When the ball was snapped, this 200-pound-plus semipro hit Elvis hard and ran right over him. Elvis took his time getting up — he was obviously a little shaken.

Now, we played tough at these games, with all-out effort, and we regularly knocked the hell out of each other. But the point was that everybody got knocked around — nobody ever specifically targeted Elvis. You wouldn’t think twice about hitting him if that’s the way the play went, but nobody was ever going out of their way to try to hurt him. From the look of that semipro player’s first hit, it seemed that maybe these guys weren’t so interested in playing ball for fun they were going to teach “Pretty Boy” Presley a lesson.

As we got back into a huddle, it was clear that Red West was furious. “I’ll take that son of a bitch out,” he said.

“No, Red,” said Elvis sharply. “Damn it, no. Just play the game.”

We ran a few more plays, and it was the same thing each time —Elvis got a tremendous hit from this charging rhino. But Elvis made a point of hopping up a little faster each time and just shaking it off. It got to a point where the day just didn’t feel like fun anymore. All the regular players were furious, and we were all telling Elvis that the game couldn’t go on like this, but he wouldn’t hear it. He wanted to play through. I found myself lined up next to Elvis, with the same big guy ready to charge at him again.

“Hit me from the left side,” said Elvis. “What?” asked the rhino. “Hit me from the left side.” “Why?” “I got a few bones over there that ain’t broke yet,” said Elvis.

The big guy started laughing, and by the time the ball was snapped he was laughing hard enough that he didn’t have the strength to steam-roll Elvis. After the play, we took a break and the guy went over to his fellow rhino. In a few minutes they walked back toward Elvis. Now the big guys were all smiles.

“Excuse me, Elvis,” said the one who’d been knocking him down.

“We sure did enjoy the game. Hope there aren’t any hard feelings.”

Red was still ready to lunge at them, but Elvis just shrugged.

“No hard feelings,” said Elvis. “Just bruises. Good luck with your season.”

Their big faces lit up like they’d just been blessed by the Pope. They started to walk away, when the guy who’d been knocking Elvis down turned around and came back.

“Uh, just one more thing, Elvis? Our wives are over there—can we bring them over to meet you?”

“Sure,” says Elvis. “Bring ’em over.”

As Elvis signed autographs for their wives, it all came together for me; if he had let Red and the rest of us go after these guys, then he would have ended up with some more enemies. Instead, he took a little punishment and ended up with four new fans.

There were a lot of people in Memphis that wanted to knock Elvis down, figuratively and literally, but what I saw happen on that field with the semipro guys was something I’d witness over and over again: A lot of people thought they had something against Elvis, but I never saw anybody who spent any time with him walk away not liking him.

Excerpt "Me and a Guy Named Elvis: My Lifelong Friendship with Elvis Presley" by Jerry Schilling (2006)

December 27, 1956. Elvis played touch football at the Dave Wells Community Center in Memphis with some friends.

[ilenissu]

This is short and shitty but women's day transfem!Stevie x cis!Eddie for your souls

It started off simple with cropped shirts and lip gloss. Eddie didn't think much of it at first, just complimenting his boyfriend's outfit and 'pretty raspberry pink lips' and basking in the light radiating from Steve as he did so.

When Steve started growing his hair out, Eddie cheered happily. They could finally braid each other's hair, although Eddie wasn't as good at it as Steve was. He finally had a model (and an excuse) to learn.

Then, one day, when the kids started fighting over who gets to call shotgun, Eddie shushed everyone bluntly and opened the door for Steve instead. "This carriage is meant for a princess". The look of pure bewilderment on the kids' faces were nothing compared to the blush on Steve's cheeks.

Steve went shopping with Nancy and Robin at least once a week - unless there was a special occasion, then even more often. His makeup developed into much more complicated eyeliner+shadow combinations. He got his ears pierced and picked out little silver flowers as his healing rings. Also, there were the sparkly (and quite long, almond shaped) nails.

Then he heard it. Robin talking to Nancy as he walked into Family Video to deliver his two favourite people their lunch.

"Stevie's not coming. She's got a date night with Munson... I don't know, but I don't think she told him. I've been trying to tell her he won't mind or be a dick about it, but she INSISTS the guy will leave her cause she's not 'a guy' anymore. I know, total bullshit."

Eddie stoos there, frozen. Leaving the lunch on the counter, he ran out of the store before anyone even noticed his entrance.

March 8th. With a huge bouquet of pink and red roses, a box of cherry-filled chocolates and a bottle of champagne in a white, festive basket, he knocked on the Harringtons' door.

Nancy opened. Well, that wasn't the lady he was expecting, but he had to make do.

"Eddie. No offence, but we're having a closed group meeting."

Eddie blinked, but soon shook his head quickly. "I respect that. I just wanted to give my... the owner of this house... a gift." He cleared his throat.

Nancy raised her eyebrow. "You want Harrington to have this? Sure. I'll hand it over. Anything else?"

Well. That was rude. He took another deep breath. "Dude. I know you guys are busy but I just want to wish her happy women's day and I'll be on my way. Here," he pulled a single rose out of the bouquet and handed it to Nancy.

She snorted. "Trying to bribe me?"

"It's a token of friendship. And feminism."

"What's taking so long, Nance, did the pizza guy kidnap you or something?!" Robin's voice was heard from inside the house along with some shuffling and grumbling. Soon enough, the love of Eddie's life stood in the hallway, staring at him in shock.

"Hey, baby," Eddie offered a small wave along with a soft smile that made Nancy completely abort her mission of blocking the doorway and disappear into the living room.

"What are you- I didn't know you were coming over- What's-" Stevie's brows furrowed, the makeup making the whole thing even cuter if that was even possible. "What's that?"

Eddie raised the basket a bit. "It's for you."

Another frown. "Why?"

"March 8th. Every fair woman deserves a bunch of flowers almost as pretty as her, hm?"

The look of pure panic made Eddie backtrack. Oh, he fucked up. Stevie wasn't ready, Robin had been joking, he misread EVERYTHING.

Just as he was spiralling, Stevie ducked her head and soon threw herself at Eddie, wrapping both arms around his neck and clinging onto him as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, come on- It's that bad?" Eddie offered quietly, wrapping his free arm around his partner's trembling body.

"You- You don't mind?"

"Jesus, baby, I loved the living shit out of Steve, and if you'll let me I'll love the living shit out of a much happier Stevie. So if that's okay, if you still want this, I'd love you to be my girlfriend. How does that sound?"

"But you're-"

"Stevie. You're doing the thing. Self-sabotage? I don't care about labels, when I have the love of my life in my arms. And if she happens to be a girl, then a girl I shall be attracted to."

[hypervoxel]

Jumble of headcanons in no particular order about Vark because I need to write them down somewhere to pretend to be organized

He started off sooo cute and tiny, like the size of a guinea pig. And he made laser noises like a baby Cuban crocodile.

He was so so tiny. He did not stay tiny.

Sharks sense electricity! He's naturally drawn to Vox when Vox is taking in or letting off too much power. He naturally interrupts Vox's overstimulation and warns about seizures, so Vox trained him some actual medical alert tasks.

Service shark Vark 🐕‍🦺

On the topic of electricity, I also headcanon him as having some aspects of an electric eel as well. A fantasy eel. He can take in some of Vox's excess energy, and isn't bothered by the sparks Vox throws off.

I'm chewing on the idea that Val bought Vark for Vox as an apology gift.

Now I'm just quoting myself directly from discord: I keep thinking of how I can include this (Vark being a gift from Val) in my one fanfic where it obviously does not fit bc Val hates Vark in it. Maybe he's jealous that Vox cares way more about Vark himself than the fact that Val gave him a gift. So unappreciative, didn't even have make-up sex over it bc Vox was too busy practically having a breakdown over how adorable Vark is. Val realizes that this was a mistake and he should have picked a very different gift instead

Vark is such a well behaved good boy when he's working, as a service shark. When Vox is in distress, Vark is so focused on trying to help with all the power of his tiny shark brain <3 Outside of that tho? He's a terror. He's so excitable. He canonically (in the old Voxtagram art) jumps on and knocks people over. This ties into him previously being a tiny adorable little thing. It was sooo cute when he jumped on your leg, back when he was the size of a large potato. It stayed cute up until they realized he was going to be so much bigger than they ever expected.

(It's like a bottle raised bull. The cute things they did when they were a little baby calf are no longer cute now that they're so large they are going to hurt you on accident just trying to be friendly and playful. RIP.)

Other service dog tasks for Vark: deep pressure therapy (of course. Interrupting behaviors such as when Vox is getting overwhelmed. Blocking to stop other people from getting too close to/touching Vox when he would shock them. I am forgetting so many things and will continue writing this list later

Vox doesn't do public access with Vark. This ties into my headcanons for Vox that he is deeply ashamed of himself and he cannot let anyone know he has problems ever.

Unfortunately, I am evil. So I also like the idea of Vark as an owner-trained service animal who is hmm not the perfect candidate for the job. In the same way shepherds aren't recommended for anxiety work, he can feed too much off of Vox's own emotions and has issues with guarding aggression that at times cause him to become reactive. (*points at my fanfic where he bites Val*)

I love bad representation.

Alsooo I don't like hammerhead sharks or animals that are too cartoon-y for me to understand as a real creature, so I'm making up a new design for Vark

Based on a Bonnethead Shark! Fun fact about Bonnethead Sharks: they are omnivorous! They eat seagrass :)

So Vark is omnivorous but unfortunately he's also like a tiger shark in that he'll eat anything even if it's not food. Tiger sharks have been found with license plates, tires, and other trash in their stomachs (sad)

Don't ask Vox how many times Vark has needed emergency exploratory surgery after eating something he shouldn't have. He doesn't want to talk about it.

Vark chews on wires like real sharks biting at undersea fiber optic cables. Chomp chomp

When Vark was a tiny baby, Velvette dressed him up in silly little outfits to post online. She doesn't do that anymore because he has mostly outgrown his cuteness stage for her: she only thought he was cute when he was little.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick Imagine Part 5 by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and now featuring @tammykelly

Original Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘

Lovely Readers! You can now follow the tag # Wicked Johnson Fic to follow along more easily! ❤❤❤

Johnwickb1tsch:

John lets you rest after wrecking you for the umpteenth time, disappearing off somewhere. You put off leaving the bedroom for as long as you can, but in the end you can't stand it anymore. You rummage in the closet for a new shirt. Your choices are black, black, and you'll never guess... black. 

This house must belong to John.

How many safe houses does that man have?

When you walk out of the bedroom in your new getup you find Tex in the living room watching TV. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“We have got to get you some clothes, baby girl.”

You shrug. The boxer t-shirt combo is actually pretty comfy.

You think you might make your way to the kitchen, but Tex snaps his fingers at you as you try to walk past.

You turn to look at him with a raised brow. 

“Can I help you?”

That was the wrong thing to say, obviously. 

His grin is that of a hungry wolf. 

“I bet you can. C'mere, darlin'.”

You sigh, but after your little lesson with John, you're not quite so inclined to defy him. 

Yet.

You're going to have to get smarter about how you expend your energy. 

Easier said than done. 

You pad over next to him. He pats his thigh in invitation, but you opt to sit next to him instead. This lasts for about two seconds, before he hauls you into his lap with his big hands and his strong arms.

Goddammit.

“That's better,” he says with a sly grin, holding you close. 

You take a moment to look at him—really look at him, from up close. The sweep of his almond shaped eyes, his high cheek bones and the short scruff of his beard. He stares back at you, unabashedly. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at you, bumping his forehead with yours. You wish it wasn't adorable. Fucking man child, making you feel things.

“Wanna watch tv?”

It beat anything else he could dream up, so you agree. You hadn't forgot that he still owed you for your flipping of the bird earlier. You're sure he hasn't either. 

He turns on some stupid gratuitous action flick, and you kind of zone out. Your thoughts drift to John, and the things he told you in-between fucking you silly. 

He'd said that he and Tex would not take on the FBI just for a plaything, or a whore. Deep down, you knew what that meant. 

It meant, they had no real intention of letting you go. The thought filled you with equal parts dread—and wonder. 

Why the fuck would not one, but two fine ass men like this want you, for keeps? It's beyond your comprehension—and if you're honest, kind of flattering. Bat shit fucking crazy, but flattering.

Either that, or it's just...convenient. Your circumstances created a perfect storm from which to snatch you without a trace or a person to care about getting you back.

"Want to see somethin'?" asks Tex, interrupting your reverie.

"Okay?"

He clicks play on the remote once he has your attention. You watch as a 1970s muscle car jumps an impossible ramp, then lands roughly on the other side of a canal. "That was me."

You lift an eyebrow, looking back at him. "In the car?"

"Yeah."

He's grinning like a little kid, clearly proud. 

"You were a stunt man?"

"Uh huh."

You tilt your head, trying to put pieces together and failing. The square block is not fitting in the circle hole. 

"Then why...?"

"Killin' people pays better, believe me. Less dangerous, too."

A chill runs down your spine. 

"Oh."

Your gaze drifts away, but he turns it back to him with a hand on your chin. Those jet black eyes bore into yours, like he can see into your soul. His eyes flick down to your mouth, a moment before he leans in to kiss you. Your first instinct is to offer teeth, before you remember if you have to have sex one more time in the next twenty-four hours, you might literally die. You slip your tongue into the seam of his lips, and feel him smile against your mouth. 

"Mmm. A man could get used to this."

He slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips sneaking past the loose hem of your boxer shorts. 

You wrap your fingers around his, praying. "Tex, please."

"Like the sound of that," he says between kisses, outmuscling you to move his hand higher.

"I'm so sore."

"Sounds like an excuse to me. John gets you to himself but I don't?"

"It's not my fault you're both hung like horses."

This appeal to his ego makes him grin. "Ain't you a lucky girl?"

"Only if you don't hurt me."

He has the gall to give you a pouty face. Again, it should be fucking ridiculous, but somehow it's cute. He cups the side of your face, pushing his thumb between your lips. "How sore is your mouth?" he asks, eyes glittering.

It's not high on your list of things you want to do, but you're having to weigh your options these days. You suck his thumb, and you swear you watch a fire ignite in his eyes.

"Also sore," you say around his digit, sounding ridiculous as he presses down on your tongue. Your jaws hurt. Even your mouth is bruised from kissing. Jesus. You're not a goddamn python.

You try to retreat, but he forces his thumb deeper.

Absolutely out of instinct to defend yourself, you start to bite him.

Maybe you stop yourself before it can hurt or you break skin, but for the wicked gleam in his eyes you know it doesn’t matter. Suddenly you find yourself flipped on your stomach over his lap, as though you are nothing but a doll.

“You are a nippy little thing, you know that?” When he wrenches down your boxers, propping your ass in the air with his trunk of a thigh beneath you, you’re afraid you know exactly what he has in mind.

“No—”

His hand between your shoulder blades pins you down. “You’re just going to make it worse for yourself,” he says in a sing-song tone, almost as though he hopes you will fight him more. His fingers fanned out over your butt cheek rub lightly, soothing over your copious bruises. It feels so good that the first stinging smack makes you jump sky-high.

“Hey!”

“Hush and take your licks, little girl.”

“I hate you!”

“I was gonna say five, for flippin’ me off, but now it’s six. Comprende?”

You whimper, but for the first time since this whole fiasco started, you do the smart thing and shut your dumb fucking mouth, hanging your head in the pillows with resignation.

He’s just spanking you, you reason. How bad can it be?

He has a hand like a catcher’s mitt and arms corded with muscle.

Bad. The answer, is bad.

Yet he doesn’t lay into you immediately, soothing you with featherlight touches over your buttocks and the backs of your thighs. That part feels good, actually, and fuck you if you don’t start to feel the stirrings of desire between your legs.

What. The ever loving. FUCK. Is wrong with you?

“So pretty,” he says, toying with the bend of your knee. It makes your toes curl, and he offers up a deep chuckle that you almost feel more than hear. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you answer meekly, closing your eyes.

“See, I can be sweet, if you’re sweet to me.”

The next smack on the other cheek makes you jump again, but this time you do not protest.

“Ahh. She can be taught.”

You whimper, but keep your expletives to yourself. This is not exactly what you would call sweet…but the contrast of the stinging blows with his featherlight touch afterwards is doing things to you that you do not understand.

“Take this off,” he demands, lifting the hem of your shirt up your back.

For once, you obey him the first time, squirming in your awkward position on your belly and pulling it over your shoulders, leaving you bare and totally exposed upon his lap. He runs his fingers up the curve of your spine, making you shudder upon him. You can’t see his smug grin, but you know, you just fucking know it’s there.

Smack.

You can’t help but cry out, but the pleasure and the pain is strangely starting to meld together. Your treacherous, stupid little cunt has begun to throb, and as his fingers caress dangerously close to your crease you find that you wish he would touch you there.

By the time he’s finished with your licks you are a finely trembling, aching mess on his lap, your fingers like claws in the throw pillow, your ass in the air as though begging for it of its own volition.

Finally he does dip his thick fingers into your weeping slit, groaning to himself for the wetness he finds there. He circles your bud with the thick tip of his finger, making you moan and arch into him like the stupid little hypocrite you are.

“That’s a mighty nice little pussy you’ve got there,” he says, his voice turned pure gravel with desire. “Too bad you’re too sore.”

He withdraws and shoves you off his lap as he stands, leaving you in a heap of pliable naked limbs on the couch. The frustrated sound that escapes your throat is barely human, and the grin he pays you is the baring of teeth from a predator to a rabbit across the wood.

“Now don’t let me catch you touchin’ yourself,” he warns, looming over you. “You won’t like what happens next.”

 On that note he struts off, and you watch him go with a glare, unable to stop yourself from thinking he has the nicest, tightest little butt this side of the Mississippi river.

Bastard.

Sweetwolfcupcake:

You sit there for a good few minutes--- letting yourself just feel and realise what has happened.

No, because you realise it now-- so much has happened, you have sort of developed a temporary immunity to it all. A coping mechanism for your mind.

That is what it does when things go very wrong very quickly-- bolt out of the blue? Worry not, you won't even register it properly.

That is how your works, you realise as you slowly begin to dress yourself again. The slick between your thighs is hard to ignore but the ignited desire begins to subdue as you focus on making yourself aware-- really aware of what has happened.

John's words regarding Bradford felt like a promise and as you realise that he is gone, you fear he has gone after the agent.

You hope and pray that he is not as impulsive as you consider him to be because, with your time spent with Bradford, you have come to know of two things-- one, he is very resourceful, and second, he is no fool. He is an exceptionally intelligent, stubborn man-- whom you considered to be moral, almost idealistic. So, his betrayal has come as a shock to you.

You can't swallow it, somehow-- and his actions are not helping either. If John has bribed him and he accpeted-- why is he still messing with them, then?

What does he really want?

He has a family--

You blink.

Teenagers, he said. He isn't that old. Until...

Until he was a college dad or something. He never even mentioned a wife.

You lick your lips dress yourself as quickly as you can and rush out of the room. Finding Tex in the kitchen, you almost call for him.

Almost because you stop.

Baffled at your own instincts.

What are you doing? Don't you miss your previous life? Don't you want to be free again?

You realise you still do but you can't see them hurt. You don't want them hurt, in any way, under any circumstances.

They make you feel like a battlefield-- a battlefield for your mind, heart and body. You just stare on, lost in thoughts and questions. But Tex senses your presence.

"Sit down, accidentally added an extra egg to my omelette." He says while plating an omelette and bringing it to you-- it does not look like an accidental extra, but you chose not to comment. "Why aren't you sat?" He asks with a tilt of his head, but amusement is dancing in his orbs.

And he's back at his assholery again, just when you begin to think of him as 'not too bad'.

You sigh, too many thoughts running around to even try wiping off that annoying smirk out of his unfairly gorgeous face. You simply steel yourself and sit down-- refusing to give him the satisfaction of any reaction from you. You grind your teeth in silence, tensing up at the ache when you feel the cushioned surface against your clothed rear-- at least it isn't only wood-- that would have been way more painful. But it still hurts. Yet, you don't show it.

You've had enough of their games. Whatever they are doing, you realise that they are, perhaps winning at it. You were going to warn Tex about Bradford? You don't want John to go after Bradford-- and the first reason you think of is 'What if it's a trap'? And not 'What if Bradford dies?'

This change concerns you. You still haven't decided what you wish to do. Tell them that Bradford's actually too young to have teenagers? Are they foolish enough to not cross-check? You decide on a different approach.

"Where did John go?"

The question comes off in low, uncertain whisper, but Tex is already seated beside you with his own plate.

When did he even do that?

Tex raises an eyebrow and scoffs but holds your gaze for a moment.

"You're not worried about that agent, are ya?"

His ability to guess your thoughts (partially, to your fortune) catches you off guard and of course, it shows on your dumb face as he smirks. This time though, it does not seem as playful as before. This time, it puts you on edge as you let out a measured breath, feeling more alert than you have been in John's silent presence before.

"No--I...." You almost spill out the truth, before breaking the eye-contact and getting some hold on yourself "I was just...wondering."

"Don't worry, he went to get you somethin' to wear, so that you don't keep dirtying ours."

Your hold on the spoon tightens at that jab. It's lighter than most of his earlier ones but it somehow irks you to a certain point of burn.

You assume he is clever enough to not give you a fork because, at the moment, you want to poke him with one.

"I'm done."

You declare curtly before letting your spoon fall on the plate and pushing it away. You need some time away from their overpowering presence, you need your sanity, your rationality intact, after all.

Rising from your seat, you rush towards the bedroom with the hope of some solitude. You need that.

Tammykelly:

You barely get to the bedroom on the second floor, the forever lingering ache between your legs and anger in your heart not letting you think about anything else but a much needed distraction.

This bastard is fucking diabolical, you think to yourself, hoping the negative energy of your denial will give strength to your knees and outweigh how much your body is screaming at you to take care of the little, annoyingly loud problem created by Tex. God, they’ve trained you well.

After you’ve freshened up in the master bathroom, you sit down in a big armchair, next to the bed, still feeling frustrated, though mostly at yourself and the hopelessness of your situation.

You glance around the room once again, remembering where they’ve locked their tools, including knives that you’re pretty sure are sharp enough to cut through anything with ease. You lean back, lost in thoughts, letting your back rest against the soft cushion. You close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing pattern, after a while feeling like your body reflexes have started to calm down and the blood in your veins has acquired breath of its own, as you begin to watch yourself, as if from the third person pov.

The shrunken space of your focus seems to have been expanded, simultaneously, the room seems to have been sealed in a vacuum bubble, it’s just you and the memory of where the knives lay. You get up with determination, feeling confident enough to try anything within the boundaries of what’s allowed but timid enough to be mindful about possible consequences.

You can surely just look at them, they won’t punish you if you don’t use them.

You think about an array of ways how you’d break the lock before opening the cabinet, and run your fingers over the blades that you know could easily cut you in half through the application of force necessary to do so. You take one out, studying it, as if trying it on, wondering how much this razor-sharp knife has seen and will witness. You twirl it around, pondering whether you’d be brave enough to use it if the opportunity arises. You feel almost mesmerised by it, neither hearing anything, apart from the ringing in your ears, nor seeing anything, apart from your reflection on the blade.

“You’re sure you know how to handle it?” - a deep breathy voice comes from behind. You jump, almost dropping the knife, your eyes meet John’s obsidian ones, boring into you, making you feel like you’re being poked by the needles that lay in the cabinet next to the knives.

“Be careful not to cut yourself, rattlesnake”, - an amused voice adds and you watch Tex step into the room, as your cheeks flush red. “We were wondering how come it’s so quiet up here”, - he adds, not breaking the eye contact.

“I was napping” - you blurt out, quickly putting the knife down, nervously watching John walk closer in a lazy, almost calculating manner only a predator uses when the prey has been caught in a trap.

You catch his movements until he’s standing behind you, his chest touching your back, his arms on either side of you, capturing you in a cage that is his strong body against your frozen one. You look over to Tex and notice him leaned against the wall, watching you two with curiosity.

Fuck

John picks up the knife you’ve previously chosen and holds it in front of you, his lips close to your ear, his voice so dangerously low, you swear he sounds like he’s about to devour you in one bite.

“Want me to show you how to use it?” he nonchalantly whispers, sending cold shivers down your spine, his lips inch closer, “since you’re so curious about it”. You pray he doesn’t feel the deafening thumping of your heart.

“I was…just…uh…”, - words barely escape your dry throat. You hear Tex walk over and it makes you feel even more on the razor edge that is a mouse trap of your relationship with these men. You feel Tex’s fingers under your chin, when he pulls your face to look up at him.

“Isn’t it what you wanted?” - he clicks his tongue. His glimmering eyes shine with built-up darkness lay beneath, a hint of disappointment flashes through it when you don’t reply, “all talk, no action?”

Tex is akin to a fiery pit, predictably unpredictable in the sense that you have an idea of what to expect of him - stand too close and you get burned, bite too hard and you get splashed back with fire. But when you watch the flames, especially when he doesn’t notice you studying him or pretends not to, there’s a strangely comforting warmth to him, flickering through the coal cracks of his man-child nature. John, on the other hand, is akin to an abyss, swallowing you whole with his presence. He’s dangerous in a way that a calm untamed tiger is, for even domesticated, it still remains a threat at all times. You don’t see what’s beneath all the layers of what he masterfully conceals and you’re not sure you should want to find out how much of a predator he actually is.

“Make your choice” - you hear John’s raspy voice bring your attention back to him.

“What?” - you blink, your mind going over multitude of possibilities this could play out. Tex takes the knife out of the other man’s hands.

“Who do you prefer show you how to use it?” - he explains, but his expression says anything but teaching you about self-defence. You feel John protectively wrap around you and you don’t need him to say it. If Tex does anything out of line, this playground will become everything a human would fear to step into. You can see that the feeling’s mutual, in the way Tex glares at John.

Maybe this is the code to freedom, let them prey on each other.

Tex’s eyes move to yours, seeing the way you lean into the man behind you.

“Oh, you think Johnny boy will save you?”- he chuckles darkly, “dream on”, he tells you before motioning for John to bring you over to the bed. Your heart drops.

They sit you down on the bed, both of them circling you, akin to eager hawks, ready to rip apart and devour anything in their sight. Suddenly, you feel John’s hands lock yours in a tight grip behind your back, which makes panic arise in your chest.

“The fuck you’re doing?” - you want to sound mad but the voice that comes out of your mouth sounds like it belongs to someone else caught in a web of pretence and lies. Tex waves his hand for you to keep your mouth shut.

“You forget your place, rattlesnake”, - he laughs, though not an ounce of warmth strikes you, just sharp fire burns.

“You’re a fucking asshole”, - you growl lowly, looking him right in the crazed eyes, while John shifts to a more comfortable position to hold you still.

Bastard

“Touché”, - Tex brings his face close to yours, his hot breath on your skin making you flinch, “Biting won’t help, darlin’, you’re forgetting who you’re up against”, he finishes, placing the cold blade on your cheek before you start protesting, and moving it down your jawline, throat, collarbones and stopping at the hem of your shirt, tantalised, watching the way your chest rapidly rises and falls. He’s so gentle with it, though, but his eyes tell you he could switch up in a heartbeat.

“Sorry, John”, - Tex breaths out and doesn’t wait for either of you to reply, grabbing the fabric and making the blade slide through it with lightning speed like butter. Your wide open eyes look at him with shock, only now noticing John pressed up against your back, like an unmoving statue. You lean back, wiggling your body, seeing how hard it is for Tex to resist touching you with his hands. He extends his arm to place the knife onto your skin.

“Don’t fucking touch me”, - you glare up at him, which makes a loud bark of a chuckle escape his lips, though he doesn’t stop. You begin to shake your head and move your body, knowing he won’t do anything in this case, as not to hurt a single strand of hair on you, for John might kill him right then and there with that said knife, otherwise. Abruptly, your body freezes when Tex’s calloused hand find its place around your neck, urging you to hold your anger in and to look up at him.

“You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?” - he growls, his fingers tight around your throat, “you can’t keep playing the game you can’t win”, he smiles, placing the blade in the centre of your breastbone, the coldness of steel arising goosebumps throughout your body. Your eyes lock on his, studying the way he’s holding back the desires that will leave him hanging onto the thread of life had he acted upon them. You want to believe he’d never hurt you but you never know how far his self control and possible feelings for you can contain the boundaries of his flames.

Is it your or John’s power over him?

Tex’s knee moves in between your legs, inching closer to where you needed him when he bent you over downstairs what feels like an eternity ago. But your body responds in raging flames, lit up by the myriad of matches that are the manifestation of his power over you.

His fingers inch the razor-sharp steel closer to the centre of your neck, so infinitely slow you think you might die just from waiting for what comes next.

And what comes next is John’s lips on your skin, your temple, behind your ear, on your shoulder, his tongue tasting the heat, engulfing your body, the effect of which comes off in a form of a shuddered breath that doesn’t go unnoticed. Tex moves the blade up until it reaches your mouth, keeping it there, until you get the hint. You stare at his darkened, ravenously glowing eyes. You feel one of John’s hands come up gliding over your body up to your neck, tilting your head up, as he’s shifting his weight so you can look up into his eyes. The look you’re met with is not the one you were hoping to see, for instead of a soft and gentle one, your gaze gets sucked in by a black hole that is a pair of nearly jet-black, hungry, unmoving and barely patient eyes.

“Sorry, baby”, - John rasps.

You open your mouth, falling deeper into his void, before closing your eyes.

Your eyelids flutter open, as your breath and racy heartbeat warn you to steady yourself before gradually coming back to a stable pace, as you lay in bed.

You listen in to the sounds of an awfully quiet house, making you wonder whether you’ve been left alone after all. The clock arms ticking rhythmically, blending in with the soft, almost faint whirring of the bedroom mini fridge where the boys keep cooled bottled water for you. The sound of electricity inside the walls and static in your ears suddenly becoming louder once you focus on it instead of the faint noise of the outside world. You look around, chasing the frisky sunset light, playing on the space around you through the cracks between the slightly moving curtains. You glance at expensive looking boutique shop bags standing near the wall. For the first time you pay attention to the way the colour palette of the place is almost seamlessly blended by the dreamy fog, though you’re not sure if it’s the floating in sunlight specks of dust or your own blurry vision, for you’d just woken up from your nap. You raise your hand to cover your eyes when the sunlight makes its way onto your face, then close your eyelids, folding your hands on your lap, letting yourself bask in the vague warmth. You take a deep breath in, your senses catching a very indistinct smell of the fresh evening air, when the wind outside blows through the trees, the rustling of which you can catch a sonic glimpse of, fresh laundry and the scent of your shampoo.

But the smell of two men pervades you the most, you can practically taste the last night with John and today’s morning with Tex on your tongue and skin. You’re sure you smell like them by now, akin to a cat acquiring the smell of its owners over time, becoming one with the small nuclear tribe. It’s shamefully intoxicating how well they’ve imbedded themselves onto your body and into your mind, molding a new, unrecognizable version of you, so perfectly suited for their needs.

And you’re sure they like everything about it, especially the way they can smell themselves off you, like you belong to them, cooped up in this place away from prying eyes, their $5 million secret, just for them to play with and ravish. You can feel it sometimes through the way they touch you when passionate waves are mercifully on hold, replaced by the monumental promise of another outburst. You remember the way their fingers linger on your skin a bit too long, the way they hug you close to their bodies late at night when they think you’re too fucked out to notice - John - in a protective embrace, Tex - more on the possessive side.

The way John gently brushes your hair after blow drying it and resists leaning in to smell your freshly showered self, for every time you can feel the heat of his body getting close to you and, regrettably to your disappointment, pulling away at the last moment. The way Tex traces his own bites and hickeys on your skin when you’re in the bathtub with him or glides his fingertips over them under the covers, thinking your blissfully unaware self doesn’t feel his surprisingly delicate leisure wandering. The way neither of them want to leave the bed in the early hours of the morning, too entranced by your warmth and the feel of your body against theirs. The way one day you made each of them sigh in surprise when you’d pulled them closer, praying they explain it as your sleepy subconscious making the decisions for you, when, in reality, it was you pulling the strings of blurry lines in between sanity and conscience mistake of trying to savour their comfortingly strong bodies. You couldn’t decide which one of the duo was worse. John, who treats you like a gentleman but often fucks you disrespectfully, or Tex, who annoyingly makes every particle of your body and soul boil in every sense possible.

You tip your head back, eyelids closed, taking deep breaths in to calm your heart and mind. You have no idea how long it’ll take for the masks of sanity to slip, revealing the true nature of those men. Whatever sanity means anymore in this situation. You start feeling like their influence on you begins to seep beyond physical form.

Suddenly, you hear John quietly calling out to you: “Y/n. You here?”

Your eyebrows slightly twitch, as your eyes open to the starry sky above the balcony where you and John are standing next to one another.

“It’s like you were just here and then you were gone”, - he chuckles, his voice soft and comfortingly deep.

Fuck, the mask’s slipping.

You take a long look at him before smiling, his eyes so gentle, you almost [want to] believe he’s not faking it for you.

It’s time for a cat to come out and play with fire.

“Hi”, - you tell him, reaching your fingers out to him, finding it so irresistibly hard not to put a loose strand of hair behind his ear when you see him admiring the perfect way the clothes he’d bought hug your body, as if tailored to your exact measurements but you don’t delve into it deeply for the sake of your sanity. “Hey”, - John replies, letting your hand slip back, not showing you how much he wants to catch it and kiss it.

The serenity of the passing intimate lace comes crumbling down when Tex cheerfully comes up from the back and hugs you from behind, loudly leaving a wet trail of kisses from your ear down to your shoulder, so casually mundane, as if he’s been doing this for years.

“What are you two whispering about?” - he inquires, not removing his lips off you. “Certainly not you”, - you tease. “You don’t like me?” - he mumbles back. Now it’s your turn to laugh: “Why should I? This is just a transaction, no?”

Instead of pulling away, Tex grips you harder: “Aw, my rattlesnake, I was about to say how sweet you are when you don’t bite”.

“Thought you liked it?” - you let him feel you lean into him, which he eagerly reciprocates. “Oh, is that why you do it? You do it for me?” - he asks, as you turn around in his arms, tilting your face up, batting your eyelashes. “Dream on”, - you reply before breaking away from his embrace.

You walk over to the balcony sofa, sinking into the big pillows in a relaxed way that exudes you’re not afraid of either of the two. You let yourself be watched by their intense gazes, shamelessly scanning you up and down, as you throw one leg over the other. Moments pass before you speak again.

“I can’t quite crack the code”, - you tell them in the most couldn’t-care-less tone, “what is it that you get out of this? Apart from the obvious”. You trace your body with your fingers, John’s eyes on yours and Tex’s following your silhouette.

Tex is the first to reply: “You said it yourself, this is just a transaction”.

“Is it really?” - you inquire in a way that it sounds more like a statement.

“Why do you wanna know?” - Tex responds, keeping his eyes trailed on you.

You lean further into the cushions, trying to sound as innocuously as possible. “To manipulate you, of course”.

Silence hangs in the air, making your cheeks grow redder, though you hope they can’t tell under the starlight. Tex walks closer to you, saying: “Don’t get ideas into that pretty head of yours”, he grabs your face with one hand, “wouldn’t want you to get burned, mhhmm?”

You swallow. “Wouldn’t even dream of it”, - you tell him, holding the eye contact. Unexpectedly, Tex does nothing but lets you go and walks to the chair, near John. It makes you uncomfortable, their watchful eyes not leaving an ounce of your conscience not feeling exposed.

“What game are you playing at?” - John finally speaks up, his voice so quiet you know he’s not playing games with you anymore.

“Nothing”, - you simply say, your gaze locked on his. Hiding in plane sight, you think. Instead, you continue: “I can’t outplay the player when I got no game, yeah?”

Tex snorts: “Oh, you definitely do have game”, eyeing you. You turn your attention to him, scoffing just like he did: “Clearly, if that’s what you wanna call it”.

“I just want a lock in my room”, you add.

“My, my, Johnny boy, she not only bites but wants to have leverage over us”, - Tex chuckles.

“How’s having a lock mean leverage?” you bat your lashes.

Okay, playing dumb it is.

Tex doesn’t make you wait for his reply: “It’s not about the lock. It’s about access”.

Got you, you say to yourself.

“I’m sure other hunters, like you two, would just love that, access at all times”, - you muse, looking from one man to the other.

“We won’t let that happen”, - John’s stern whisper comes.

“Mhmhm, sure, with $5 million on the line”, - you shrug. You catch Tex’s eyes.

“Dream on, babygirl”, - he muses back.

You sigh, getting up, making your hips sway just a tiny bit more than usual. Your arm gets caught in Tex’s strong grip. “What are you doing?” - he growls, as you turn to look up at him. You look behind him at John, then back at the man in front of you. “Take a wild fucking guess”, - you retort. Tex steps closer, cornering you further to the glass door, leading into the house. “Use your pretty mouth like that, I won’t care if you’re sore or not anymore”, - he smiles sickly sweet, making your stomach turn. You ignore him and connect your eyes with John’s, who holds the same expression, not much different from Tex’s, letting you see in that moment, how titillated he is by you.

You’re fucked and you’ve walked right into it.

“Let me guess, “dream on”?” Tex mocks you, placing a hand on the glass, near your face.

You work up a smile, though you hope they can’t see it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m going to sleep. Aren’t you boys coming?” you purr, before wiggling your way out of Tex’s arms. The men look at each other before following suit, exchanging malevolent glances.

The code is crackable. For it’s not the “how” but the question of who’ll be the first to crack.

Tex. John. Or you.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

Goddamnit. Where is the motherfucking pancake batter? Does John not have PANCAKE BATTER in his goddamn house? What are you supposed to do? Make pancakes from scratch? Fuck.

Your internal thoughts are being monologued by a sailor, apparently - and he’s in a shit mood. You woke up lying in vacant sheets, minus either of your human heaters, shivering in the conditioned air.

Your bargain was simple, or at least you thought so - they could keep the temp at 62 degrees in this room (psychos) if they both slept beside you and warmed you cozy. So, when you found out they were gone and didn’t even bother to pull a blanket over your naked body in their haste to leave - okay, maybe it was actually you that kicked the comforter off, but you’re still gonna blame them - you got heated, and not in a good way.

Pretty soon, and far too late, you realized that you felt abandoned without them snuggling you like two big, bed hogging dogs, and that made you much more angry because… Well. If you’re being honest with yourself, you are far too attached to these men. In too deep. “Dug up more snakes than you can kill,” as Tex would say. You can barely function when they’re not around. So much for strong, independent woman. You’re a whitehead on the face of feminism.

And now you can’t even make pancakes. Out of frustration, you slam a cupboard shut and bustle a carton of eggs off the counter. And, of course, they land face down with the top open wide. “Fuck. Me.”

“Bad day?”

You spin on your heel, hip catching the counter painfully, although you barely register the sting, too busy clenching fists at your sides from the immediate recognition of that voice. You glare at Bradford, lip curling into a little snarl, the rattlesnake in you coming to bat. “It is now,” you snap.

Bradford sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, don’t be like that. I told you I’d protect you, y/n, and that’s what I’m here to do.”

You burst into a crazed giggle fit, fists clutching at the sundress fabric over your belly, eyes watering from the sheer audacity of fucking men. It takes you a minute to collect yourself.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you pompous asshole.” You’re still smiling at him, that little leftover sanity and hope slipping right through your fingers and landing in a sticky puddle with the smashed eggs.

He frowns, hands jammed into his pockets, this stupid look of concern coming over his face that makes you want to choke it right off. “Listen, y/n, whatever they did to you - however they hurt you - it’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m here to take you away and undo all this shit they’ve put in your head.”

“You think that’s going to work on me after what you did?!” You hardly recognize your own shrill screech, don’t realize you’re jamming a finger into his chest until your toe to toe with him. “They might be assholes and manipulators, sure, Bradford, but you-“ You poke his sternum hard, make him wince and love that pained look on his face more than you should - “you’re much fucking worse. Because at least they care about something other than themselves.”

His expression is one of pity, like he’s looking at an abused, bite happy dog about to be put down. “You think they care about you?” His voice is quiet, sympathetic, overly kind, it makes your stomach turn. “Oh, sweetheart-“

“Oh, sweetheart,” you mock, the acid in your body leaking and bubbling from your throat. “Do me a favor and get out. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.”

He seems entirely unaffected by you. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

You feel a tiny sting in your shoulder, look down to see a needled splinter sticking out, reach to pull it free, but it’s far too late, because your hand doesn’t work. And neither do your legs. You black out before landing face first into the eggs.

They’ve got you trussed up again. Pretty silk ropes dimple your skin. John finishes the knots on your thighs, fingers tickling lazily over the fabric and making you squirm and whine. “Comfy?” He asks, kissing your cheekbone and smiling at you.

You nod, pull at your bonds, become thrilled when you realize you’re not going anywhere. You wiggle your toes, testing circulation by gauging feeling to your digits. Perfect, as always. John’s handiwork is unmatched. And you are absolutely drenched and throbbing by the time he gets done tightening his last little tie.

“Oh, you’re so pretty,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose into your hairline. You shudder and giggle, melting under that praise he has grown fond of giving. His balmy voice gets your toes curling instead of flexing.

Tex comes back into the room with the bottle of sandalwood and vanilla oils. It smells heavenly and makes you clench hellishly as he works it into his bulky palms and grins at his favorite girl. “You ready for that massage, pumpkin?”

Something slams violently close to your ear, startling you out of the dreaming memory, making you gasp and flinch. You can’t go far, because you’re handcuffed to a metal chair. Hands and feet. Too tight. Fingers and toes already numb and cold. Your face feels sticky and itchy. Metal scrapes metal in a terrible symphony that jabs behind your eyes and gets them open.

You’re in a white, windowless room, far from John and Tex, but close to agent Bradford. He’s smiling now, pleased about something, leaning over the silver table to examine your face. “That’s a nasty bruise, kid,” he says, pointing to his own forehead. “Sorry I couldn’t catch you.”

You scowl at him. “Yeah, whatever.” Your head does hurt, though, and you feel like you’ve been run over by a monster truck again. Still, that fire in you doesn’t seem to want to die, and you’re incredibly grateful for whatever miracle furnace is fueling it. “Are you gonna tell me why I’m here? Or just stare at me like a fucking creep?”

He chuckles. “Do you know where you are?”

“Oh yeah,” you spit, “I definitely remember this windowless white fucking room from good times growing up.” Rolling your eyes hurts more than you think it will.

“You’re under possession of the FBI, y/n, and if I were you, I’d be grateful we didn’t just hand you over to the Bratva ourselves. Because they would have done much worse to you than we’re about to do.”

Johnwickb1tsch:

As your mind clears from the drugs Bradford gave you, you start to think a bit more critically about your situation. The fact that he has taken you hostage without the fanfare of an official FBI raid suggests he's still working under the radar. He must have baited your boys with some convincing ruse to make them both leave the house.

"You should really do yourself a favor, and return me to them," you advise. You flex against the cuffs, trying to get circulation. They really are too tight, and you can't help but compare it to the careful way John always bound you. Who is the bad guy here? All the lines have blurred.

"I can't help but notice you're not asking to just be let go."

It's a development that surprises you too, but you don't feel like analyzing it right now. All you know is that you miss them, like a crucial piece of your heart has been plucked from you. And maybe it's fucked up, but you want the man responsible to pay.

"I'm not as stupid as you are, apparently. Don't you understand who you're dealing with?"

"Tex Johnson, former Marine, dishonorable discharge in his first tour of Iraq, turned Hollywood stunt man and mafia hitman. John Wick is harder to put a thumb down on. Bogus birth certificate, it's doubtful it's his real name. He was probably trafficked into the country as a child from the Soviet Union by one of the syndicates. He's been associated with various underworld groups since he was a teen."

This was, in fact, way more than you knew about your boys, but you were loathe to admit it.

"What I mean, is if you keep this up you're a dead man walking. They'll do anything to get me back."

"It sounds like you want them to get you back."

"At this point? I like them a lot better than you."

"Yeah, you seemed pretty cozy there. I think you have a touch of Stockholm Syndrome."

The thought of this man, of all people, moralizing at you and basically calling you mentally ill, pisses you off even more.

"Did you know Stockholm Syndrome is a bullshit diagnosis favored by law enforcement, invented by two male psychologists to describe a woman who had been in a hostage situation, who they had never even met? She was held hostage by a bank robber in Sweden, and as she watched the police completely bungle the situation she was afraid they would come charging in and kill everyone in a hail of bullets. She advocated for a more peaceful solution that didn't involve her getting shot, and was branded as neurotically sympathetic to her captor for it. But you've been through Quantico. You should already know this."

Bradford frowns down at you, and your inconvenient penchant for facts.

"Alright, smarty pants, be that way. But when the media gets a hold of you after this, you're going to want something to blame, believe me."

"How about you, you crooked son of a bitch?"

"Me? I'm going to be the agent who single handedly brought down the Nobokov Bratva, two wanted contract killers, and saved their hostage. I'll be a hero."

"What about the money you took?"

"Playing a role, all part of my master plan."

He smirks at you, letting you know that at least some of that money is not going to make it into evidence.

"Wait...isn't Dmitri Nobokov dead?"

"As a doornail. But his son is still around, and he wants blood."

You think about this a moment.

"And you're using me as bait?"

"Now you're catching on. You've got a date with Igor Nobokov tonight."

"And you're counting on...them all killing each other?"

"Something like that."

You just laugh.

"Right? I think it's funny too."

"I'm not laughing at that."

"No?"

"No. I'm laughing because my boys are going to fucking kill you all."

You find that you truly believe it, to the marrow of your bones.

Bradford just smirks. "We'll see."

You certainly would.

His phone starts ringing, and he reaches into his pocket for it. "Bradford."

"Well hello, Agent Dipshit."

"Tex. Thought you'd never call."

gif by johnswick

Just hearing his ridiculous, stupid, wonderful voice, even tinny through the phone, sends a wave of relief through you.

"Gotta say, I took you for smarter than this."

"How you figure?"

"You're an FBI hotshot with a fancy degree. I'm sure you've got a profile on me. Narcissistic psychopath, is what Uncle Sam told me. That means there aren't many things in this world I care about outside of yours truly, but you've managed to take one of 'em from me. Can't say that bodes well for you."

"I guess that's a matter of perspective, Mr. Johnson."

"Proof of life?"

"She's right here. Say hello, y/n."

Glaring at Bradford, you speak into his outstretched phone. "Tex, it's a trap!"

Bradford reaches out to smack you in the mouth, staring you down.

"Ow! Motherfucker!"

For a moment there is a deadly silence on the other end of the line.

"My turn. Say hello, Mrs. Bradford."

Bradford's face goes white as a sheet. "Anthony? I'm scared. Please, just do whatever they say."

"Veronica? It's going to be ok, honey, just stay calm. If you fuckers hurt her so help me God--"

"Maybe we will, maybe we won't. All depends on you, son. So listen close."

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

"Who knew this AI shit could be so handy?"

John just nods, utterly stoic, closing the laptop. After feeding multiple insufferable Facebook videos about cooking and keeping house by the lovely Mrs. Bradford through a program, they were able to create a perfect facsimile of her voice, good enough to fool her husband over the phone.

Now Bradford would meet them in a location of their choosing. The advantage was theirs.

Or so they hoped.

Either way, Bradford was dead meat.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

don’t close your eyes (Matt Murdock x f!reader)

summary || Elektra comes back to town with one goal in mind- to get Matt back. She’d do anything to get him back, even harming his girlfriend.

wc || 1.7k

warnings || angst, mentions of blood, death

a/n || from this request. this is quite different to what I usually upload and I feel a little embarrassed in case it’s not good. it might be a little dark for some people, so I won’t be offended if you skip this one. I was listening to sad music while I wrote the last part, so be warned😭

masterlist + rules

taglist

through your eyes (part 2) ->

You and Matt were having a calm morning, quietly enjoying each other's company as you shared breakfast. 

“You okay?” You ask, noticing the way he suddenly tensed up.

“Yeah. I’ll be back in a moment.” Kissing your forehead to excuse himself.

Walking out of the apartment and into the hallway where he found Elektra leaning against the wall, waiting got for his arrival.

“What are you doing here?” He whisper shouts, not wanting you to hear while still being able to convey his disgust to her presence.

“I’m here to get you back Matthew.” She said slowly, stalking forward to stroke his arms.

“You need to go.” He says warningly.

“Not until I have you back Matthew.”

“I won’t ask you again.” Gripping onto her forearms.

“I love how rough you are with me… but that’s beside the point. I want you back.”

“No, I have a girlfriend.” He scoffs while ripping his hands off Elektra’s arms.

“That hurts my heart Matthew, but you must know… if I can’t have you… then you can’t have your little plaything.” She flirtatiously taunts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He grits, growing frustrated with the conversation.

“Hm, well… I’ll kill her.” Pausing to make it seem as though she’s thinking. “Yeah, I will kill her.” 

“I don’t believe you.” He spits as he pushes her against the wall.

“My heart Matthew, listen to my heart… you know I never lie.”

He doesn’t reply, but she could tell by his lack of communication that he knew.

“You have until the end of the day to break things with her- oh and make sure to tell her that you love me instead, I want her to hurt.” She smirks. “The longer I have to wait… the more your girlfriend will suffer… so I guess I will see you soon Matthew.” Kissing his cheek before walking away. 

All he could do was stand there stunned. Matt knew Elektra was telling the truth and he couldn’t bare the thought of putting you in danger. He knew he had to let you go, he just didn’t want to. 

He takes a couple of deep breaths before walking back in, trying to clear his mind.

“Hey? Are you okay?” You ask sounding worried.

“Yeah.” Poking his fork into a potato.

“Matt?” You ask cautiously, sweetly placing your hand over his.

“I’m okay.” Smiling at you disingenuously. 

You wanted him to be honest, but you didn’t want to push. You told yourself that he’d come to you when he was ready, so you changed the subject.

“Breakfast was lovely, thank you. What do you want to do today?” Collecting the dishes to put in the sink. “We could stop by that new farmer's market? I think they’ve got some great deals. Or we could get coffee?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry.” Rubbing the bridge of his nose. Your sweet and nurturing nature made this situation impossibly harder, he adored your pure heart and the thought of breaking it, made him spiral.

“That’s okay, or we can stay here?” You offer, sensing that he might not be in the mood to do too much.

Dropping his head into his hands as he exhaled deeply.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” You ask warmly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t do this.” He sighs. 

“Do what?” Slowly pulling your hand away.

“I can’t be with you anymore, I’m sorry…” Dropping his head further into his hands so that they could block his ears, not wanting to hear the way those words destroyed you.

Standing still for what felt like forever, slowly stepping back and into the living room. You didn’t know what to say. Things were going so well, how could he change his mind so quickly? You didn’t want to fight it, it was clear he had made his decision. 

“I’ll… uh- um.” You stuttered not knowing how to respond. “Uh- I’ll go get my stuff.” You breathed strenuously, trying not to cry.

He could feel his own heartbreak along with yours, so desperately wanting to reach out and hold you. He knew he couldn’t make this any harder for you, so he stayed away. Listening to every stifled sniffle and every erratic pound of your heart.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you leave Matt’s bedroom walking past him and out of the door. You weren’t able to speak right now, too afraid of bursting into tears in front of him. Closing the door behind you. 

// 

It had been a few weeks since Matt ended things with you, and quite frankly you’ve been a mess. You’ve not been able to do anything recently so your apartment was in a state. You have been racking your brain trying to think of what you did wrong, what was missing or what you could’ve done differently.

You just truly missed him.

Today has been a slow one but you felt like you were finally getting there. You were able to put some things away in the kitchen, doing little jobs to help you feel accomplished. Doing small things to try to make you feel better. 

Pulling your hair into a quick ponytail, and throwing on a cardigan to get the mail from downstairs. Shoving your feet into whatever shoes were closest to the door, making your way to collect the months' worth of letters.

Walking back up to your floor you see Matt standing outside your door.

You couldn’t turn around because you knew he heard you. Slowly strolling forward. “Hi.” You greet politely.

“Hello, Angel. Please can we talk?” He pleads, smiling at you promisingly.

“Okay…” Opening the door. “Sorry about the mess.” Scattering around to awkwardly tidy around him. 

“I can’t live without you.” He says quietly to the floor.

“Why’s that?” 

“I only love you, I didn’t mean what I said... It was Elektra.” Painfully smiling at you.

“What do you mean?” You meekly ask.

“She threatened you, and I couldn’t let that happen… so I had to let you go- but… I just, I can’t live without you.” 

“I’m confused.”

“I’m sorry for throwing this all on you. I just needed you to know.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I love you. You’re the only person I love… and I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” You ask, a slight pang of sadness in your tone.

“It was Elektra. I couldn’t stand being around her… she just isn’t you.” Walking towards you, opening his arms to offer a hug.

You didn’t have to think about it, melting into his embrace. Squeezing each other tighter and not wanting to let one another go. 

“I’ve missed you.” You mumble into his chest.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Resting his chin on your head while he stroked over your back. “I’m so sorry.”

The door swings open and clatters against the wall. “Where is she?” A female voice shouted.

He spins you both around so that his back was to the woman, holding you in front of him to protect you. 

“We had a deal, Matthew.” She taunts, smashing your photo frames and dropping your vases to the floor. 

“Elektra, please just stop.” He yells, gripping you tighter. 

“I don’t like when people don’t hold up on their part of the deal.” Stalking forward, slashing her dagger into the back of your sofa and tearing it open. “Remember what I said?” She taunts once more, throwing your books and candles against the wall. 

“She’s not a part of this… what can I give you instead? Just please don’t hurt her.” Cocooning your head in his arms, trying his hardest to keep you safe.

“I’m afraid not Matthew. I told you what would happen.” Itching closer to you both. Teasingly brushing her fingers along your hands that were gripping at Matt’s back. She yanks on your arm, separating you apart and pushing you to the floor. Straddling your stomach as she edged her sword along your jaw.

Matt immediately dives to push her from you, dragging her along the floor to get her as far away as possible. 

“Go.” He shouts over to you, panic and fear riddled in his voice.

Sliding yourself away to pull yourself up, gripping the sides of the coffee table for support. 

“You’re quite the fighter sweetheart.” Elektra taunts you, trying to free herself from Matt’s grip. 

She slams him back into the wall behind and runs towards you. Picking up her dagger from the floor and burying it deep in your stomach. Twisting it a couple of times before yanking it out.

Matt stood there paralysed before realising what had just happened. Rushing to your side to hold you, helping you down so you didn’t fall. 

“No no no, what have you done?” He whispers, putting pressure on the wound. “No no.” His voice breaks. “I’m so sorry.” Holding your neck to support you. 

“It's okay.” You say quietly.

“No, it’s not.” A tear falls and lands on your cheek. “Please don’t close your eyes, just wait okay- we’ll get help. Just please hang on.” 

“Someone help!” He shouts, trying to get attention from your neighbours. “Please call an ambulance. She’s losing too much blood, please?” He begs Elektra who was sitting on the armchair indifferently reading a magazine. 

“I love you. So much.” Reaching your hand up to stroke his cheek. 

“Please don’t go, you’re all I have left… hang on just a little more. Help!”

Resting your head on his leg while he placed his other hand on the wound, firmly pressing and trying to stop the excessive bleeding. “Count with me, Angel. One.”

“One.” 

“Two.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Th-“ Your hand dropped from his face.

“No no no, don’t-“ his voice breaks, holding behind your neck as his other hand continued to press onto your stomach. “Please talk to me… We’ll get help, okay?” He reassures you, but he was actually reassuring himself. Leaning over to rest his forehand against yours. “Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me- please? I love you.” Gently shaking your head to keep your eyes open. 

He could feel you slip away, tears freely spilling from his eyes and down onto your face. Holding your cheeks with his bloody hands, trying to keep you conscious. Pulling you closer into his lap and holding you tighter. 

“No no no no.” He mutters against your skin, hearing your last raspy breath before your eyes flutter shut for the last time. 

[aspiringwriter1111]

I'm just thinking about if Adrien got the ladybug miraculous instead of the cat, because we were totally robbed of fluffy Tikki and Adrien.

Like, imagine she sees his life, completely taken aback, "Is this... All you want????"

And Adrien answers, "As long as my dad's happy, and we have our monthly scheduled breakfast, everything's okay."

"But you could have better than 'okay'????"

She explains to him that he's allowed to want things outside of the bubble his father puts him in, and that it's normal to want more, even if your life is "Perfect".

How she's lived for so long, and with all the things she's seen over history (wars, famine, violence, injustice, etc.) there's been many times when she's felt like nothing could be made better.

But the wanting of better things was important.

Being the kwami of creation, she explains that a big part of her is wanting. You can't CREATE, unless you WANT.

Which is somewhat new to Adrien because he doesn't really allow himself to want. If he wanted, there's a good chance he couldn't have it, because, he realizes, what he really wants is connection.

But, gosh, she makes it sound so... easy???

Adrien starts to realize that maybe what he wants, ISN'T what he has.

"Is it, really that easy, to have what you want?"

And she's like, "Yup. 🐞👍"

And you know how Tikki is such a good life coach/encouragement expert?? You can't tell me Adrien wouldn't soak it up like a sponge.

All the support he never had, is suddenly there. All the faith that she has, in his decisions and what he wants.

Like, the freedom from that??? The comfort??? The connection he's been longing for???

We all know what speaks to Adrien is people listening to him. Like, actually SEEING and HEARING him for who he wants to be.

(In the OG series, his connection to Marinette is partially based on it. She was the only person who saw what he ACTUALLY wanted, and wanted it for him too.)

And Tikki, being the kwami of creation, would love nothing more than for her holder to create. To see him grow and blossom into what he WANTS to be.

And the guilt that held him back starts to melt away.

In place of it grows curiosity!! The seeking of what he wants, which is something he's never done before!! It's all so new and exciting.

+ We get Adrien comforted by Tikki.

Imagine him, sad and alone, and then this tiny little thing squishing into his face, "You can do it Adrien!! I believe in you! It's okay!!"

And maybe his father doesn't change (He probably wouldn't smh-) but he kind of doesn't have to anymore? He says Adrien can't go to his friend's party.

So Adrien brings the party to him, hosting it in their foyer. Or he video chats them, with his disco ball on, and his music up so high his dad can hear it from his lair.

And this happens over, and over again, with everything.

His father gives out, because he knows whatever he takes away, Adrien just makes it over again, and WHY IS HE SO DARN DETERMINED NOW?!? HE WAS NEVER LIKE THIS BEFORE?!???!

So he starts to just let him do what he wants, because if he keeps him locked up, the "annoyance" is right in his house, messing with his plans.

In school, Adrien would probably join the debate team (Being seen and heard), and start going with Mylene and Ivan to their protests. Being the son of a famous fashion designer only adds to the causes they fight for, (Also, being seen and heard).

First day of school he immediately goes towards Nino, now knowing what he wants.

With a firm, "I'd like to be friends with you." Instead of a, "Chloe is my only friend, I have to stay with her."

He sees Chloe putting gum on the bench next to them, and immediately cuts contact with her (Blocked).

He's trying to take the gum off before the people who sit there show up, doing his best, because he doesn't want them to even know what happened at all.

And this girl taps him on the shoulder, and asks "What are you doing?"

And he goes, "Taking the gum off."

"You don't have to do that?" She says, setting her bag down, "I can just move over."

The girl was Marinette.

"I know you!" He says, standing up, "Your family runs the bakery around the corner!"

She snapped her fingers, "You always order the big assortment boxes of macarons!"

It's an instant friendship.

And Adrien silently thanks Tikki in his head for refusing to eat anything other than the Dupain-Chengs' macarons.

Circling back to Tikki and Adrien fluff,

IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES!!

Cuddling, Squishing, Supporting!! A friend who believes in him!

The physical affection he never got!!

She thinks he's so SWEET, and she leaves him notes of encouragement everywhere!!

Giving him a pieces of her macarons, and him bringing her around to all the best patisseries?!!??

Asking Marinette to make a tiny bed for her?!!!!?

TINY PAJAMAS-

You can't tell me he wouldn't. You can't.

[circeyoru]

have you listened to the song "Partner in Crime" by Madilyn Mei? If not, I strongly recommend it because it makes me think of Unwanted Souls!Alastor. Specifically early days of when the reader tries to push him away

This is for {Unwanted Soul} , check MASTERLIST for the work

The one I listened to is Partners in Crime by Set it Off. But I gave this a listen and omg the lyrics are quite in sync with the story!!

Let me go on a song tangant. Stay if you wanna read.

**Heavy spoiler if you haven't caught up with this series!!!!!

You're right; this matches well in the beginning when Reader/you are trying to push Alastor away so you can go back to your little world of self-indulgence. But what happened afterwards is Alastor staying and showing you care and devotion you never had.

Now, if you keep up with everything I posted about {Unwanted Soul}, you'll know that I never planned for this oneshot to end up as a series with this much background and connections for you. So, in Part 1, it was entirely matched with the request and that long to avoid a continuation. But then you saw the results, hahahahaha~

Anyways. Part 1 never mentioned anything of a dilemma of you pushing Alastor away yet wanting him near you, the later parts did. If you piece back everything, you'll see what I mean with this song.

When you're gone I feel alone again The voices cannot hold my hand They keep me company at very best Distract me from my loneliness

Here, this is a reference to when you had that breakdown when Alastor was more than late for that grocery shopping. You hoped it work, but when it did, you just feel so lonely. Everywhere you see in the apartment, especially the living room since that's where Alastor always was. So you retreated into your room, where he barely had permission to enter. With low self-esteem and self-harming thoughts, you conjured a knife and just stabbed yourself to distract yourself from the mental pain.

Maybe I'm just an anomaly Even my demons have their families Truly something must be wrong with me To need you as much as I do

Naturally, this is a reference to your living years. You felt alienated in your life and among the people that surrounds you. Yes, you're stable and successful to the point that you don't have to worry about getting hungry or not having a house to return to. But you felt so empty with what you're doing. You wanted companionship that you can lean on. Then Alastor comes along and you tell yourself it's too good to be true and pushed him away to protect yourself from a heartache.

I was never meant to win I was never meant to win I was never meant to win Shut up!

Sidetracking, this is referring to you quitting your job as an informant for Lucifer. It's some time after you mastered the two powers you had but never used. You think it's too powerful and you're not worthy of it, so you hide it away. Then it went to thinking you're not fit to work for Lucifer, the King of Hell. Worse when you come to see him as a friend instead of your employer and superior being. It was easy to put a stop to it since Lucifer wasn't as persistent with keeping you by his side than Alastor. (haha this explained why I never put Lucifer as a love interest or show competition between him and Alastor)

Here's the reigns Take ahold of me Please don't let me go You do the talking Sew up my mouth if I can't keep it closed

This is where you basically accepted that Alastor was a yandere for you and let it progress. You know how it is with this type of character. You were just too damaged and desperate for something you longed for that you didn't care anymore. It was a good thing that Alastor saw how damaged you are by that self-harm you inflicted on yourself, better now than later when you were more firm with your feelings for him.

There's a dog barking right around the block And a big ol' whistle blow Run for it I'll keep em occupied for you Cause I love you, I love you so Left me hangin at the station But you'll be back for me soon

I'll switch the narrative here. This matches more for Alastor. This talks about the time when you sent him to the hotel to work (and leave you alone). A little interest that shouldn't be explored for or for you to personally be involved with. So Alastor does his best to keep the hotel matters at the hotel, never needing you to leave your home to investigate anything. Alastor knows you moved him out because you were caring too much and you're trying to stop it. He doesn't care, he wants you. But he'll be patient and give you time, he knows you'll be back for him. And boy was the wait worth it when he saw you fight for him.

Something tells me you aren't coming Guess that I'm truly doomed

When Alastor was nearly brought down by Adam and realized that his power wasn't enough (since it was limited by you). That moment, he was fully prepared to just teleport back to your apartment and stay there.

I'm 'bout to die Yet the only thing I find I'm worried about is you I'm 'bout to die Yet the thing on my mind seems to nearly be nothing but you

This is when, moments before your slumber, you told Alastor that you missed him and removed the rule that blocks his connection with you. You know you're not dying, maybe, but there was that slim chance. You also know that wouldn't be what Alastor thinks, and in a way, you reassure him.

I'm just a pawn in your game Not your partner in crime

You used to think that Alastor was using you for something. In fact, you looked for evidence to prove your theory. But the battles he started for you, the demons he killed for you, and the words that made up deovtion and promise to you, it all pointed against that. Isn't it all so weird?

You're slowly killing me And yet I don't mind (You were never meant to win) You're slowly killing me But please take your time

This is where you accepted that you're not gonna be able to push away Alastor anymore. So you take a back seat and let it happen. You were never meant to win against Alastor's love for you, you were never meant to push him out of your life. What Alastor's killing is the doubts and reason you have to push him away, it takes time to heal and for Alsator to find out about your past. So... You want him to take his time.

"Hey, Alastor." You smiled as you waved your hand at him to beckon him over.

"Yes, My Love?" Alastor skipped over, throwing away a demon's limb behind him comically which earned him a burst of carefree laughter from you.

In a swoft move, you pulled him to your level and gave him a butterfly kiss on the lips then stared into his eyes, "I love you, so dearly. Never leave me."

Alastor felt himself melting from your words and the plead he saw as his order to keep you forever. What ever were you thinking to suddenly say this? He won't question since you ended up demanding his attention and presence. So he smiled and nodded, "Of course. I'll never dream of leaving you. I love you too much for that to ever happen, My Beloved."

[maddragonfruit]

Please, please talk about your Sanders Sides swap au! 🤍

Yay! Thank you for this ask!

So the basic premise is that it goes in the direction of sanders sides, just with the sides having (sorta?) swapped jobs, or personalities, or both.

Should I write this out it would start at season one and follow the same sort of storyline, with modified episodes and such but I feel like season two would be harder to write than season one.

Logan, Patton and Roman are still considered Thomas's main sides the first time they're introduced and they are introduced in episode one.

Logan is such an unserious guy, he is supposed to be Thomas's logic and he does retain all of Thomas's knowledge, he just really doesn't care. He'll shout out random things or randomly go off on stupid tangents just cause he can and he enjoys being an annoying nuisance. He uses one brainrot word per sentence and enjoys watching everyone cringe at them. A little like Remus in the "does random things cause they can" way.

Patton is still Thomas's morality and such, but he's not really Thomas's emotions anymore? If that makes sense? He does care for the people around him and they are aware of that. But if Thomas is feeling something, Patton is not at all required to feel it too, and while this isn't intentional on Patton's part, it can cause him to come off as more unsympathetic while trying to push Thomas to do what he considers the right thing, and he's more likely to berate Thomas for thinking or doing something he considers wrong, instead of gently talking to him or flat out denying it like original Patton can do.

Roman is Thomas's creative block, he prevents Thomas from coming up with ideas and should Thomas come up with an idea, he'll immediately try to think of things to shut it down. He's quite a disheveled and woefully prideful guy, and he's really not respected by anyone. He's quite a bit of an arsehole to be honest, though most of it's deflection and insecurity.

All three of these guys generally aren't too nice to Thomas, or very helpful either, when they're first introduced at least.

So enter Virgil, who's a bit like damage control? He's there to remind Thomas that most things have a positive outcome, and to not listen to the other three. None of the sides are exactly nice to him in season one, but they all just assume he either doesn't notice or doesn't care. He can be a bit ditzy and forgetful but he's generally quite successful in his endeavors to not let the other three bring Thomas down completely. The thing is, he's not a silver lining guy, he's all for reminding Thomas how good the outcome has the chance of being, but as soon as it's a not-great outcome? He's really bad at dealing with it.

So season one would follow a similar premise to the actual season one, except instead of Anxiety being rude and everyone else combating that, it's swapped were Virgil (Or whatever aspect of Thomas's personality I can come up with to call him before he reveals his name) will tell Thomas to think of the best possible outcomes and the other three will drag him down a bit, coming to similar conclusions as the actual episode in the canon timeline, just taking a different path to get there.

Season two is a bit more complicated because of how the episodes are and it's harder to swap the episodes with the new personalities though I do have quite a few ideas! I think I'll make a different post or reblog this one if I talk about Janus or Remus cause this is getting long.

Thank you so much for this ask cause I've been wanting to ramble about my AU for such a long time!

[hobiebrownismygod]

Heroes & Villains

Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk x FemVillain!Reader Synopsis: Good people and bad people don't mix. How could someone like Spider-Man want to be with you, despite knowing where you came from? What you've done? It just couldn't happen. TW: Mentions of murder, Pining, Pinch of angst ~1.7k words

Taglist: @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @s6onder @@d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @lauryn2558

_________________________________________________________

Taglist Masterlist

Being a villain wasn't what you signed up for.

You'd started off as a simple mercenary, stealing things, shooting things, killing the occasional bad guy, but now...now things were different.

Working for Osborne sounded like a dream at first. Big pay-offs and guaranteed protection. He was the biggest kid in the playground and you were his trusty sidekick, always staying behind, concealed in his shadow.

It wasn't a horrible place to be. You'd never been one to enjoy the spotlight, all those judging eyes on you, all those fake smiles. It was easier to stay out of the way.

But then things started getting dirty. Instead of stealing jewelry and money, you stole files and blueprints. Instead of killing crime lords and murderers, you killed governors and state officials. Anything to keep Osborne in power, anything to prevent the possibility of his well-built regime toppling over. And now, if he ever did fall from that throne, you'd be the first to be crushed.

And that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was having goddamn Spider-man, always on your tail. Because you weren't just some lowlife thug anymore. You were a villain.

Villains were the people heroes fought, the ones despised by the civilians, spat at by strangers, because villains were bad people. That's why heroes like Spider-man fought you. Because you were a bad person. And there was no going back. Not anymore.

You leaped from the edge of the rooftop you were perched on, rolling onto the top of another one of the beige apartment buildings situated on the block, the lights inside all shut off. It was nearing midnight, and you'd just finished with another target.

State official Kendrick Johnson. He wasn't the nicest person, but he wasn't terrible either. But then of course, he was socialist. Which means he was a direct threat to Osborne's policies. Which meant, of course, he had to be put out. Like the flame of a candle. Insignificant, to you at least. You were numb to it now, having a kill count so high, you couldn't even remember the number. You barely even remembered the first person you murdered, all those years ago.

But that's just the cycle of life, right? You were just trying to survive, even if that meant being considered a bad guy. You were just doing what you did best.

You walked along the edge of the rooftop, arms out for balance while you teetered over the side, looking down at the streets thoughtfully, gaze running over the bright white streetlights and the street dogs huddled together for warmth.

And then you heard it. Quiet footsteps. You stopped in your tracks and the noises stopped too. You chuckled softly under your breath. You'd recognize those loud, clanky boots anywhere.

"Hey, Spider-Man."

You turned around gracefully, a slight grin on your face, giving a playful bow to the tall, masked man standing a couple feet in front of you. "Hey yourself." he replied, cocking his head to the side as he put his hands behind his back.

"You here to arrest me?" You asked, batting your eyes at him innocently, taking a couple slow, dragged out steps towards him. "Whatever you think I did, I didn't do it."

"So you didn't just kill a man?" He asked with a raised brow, hands moving towards his pockets as he watched you. "I didn't just kill a man. I did it a little while ago."

"Yeah? Give me a number."

"...15 minutes? 20? I wasn't keeping count."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at you. "You know, he was one o' the few 'fficials I actually liked."

"Oh, sorry." You said with a grin. "If it makes you feel any better, I made it quick."

"Uh-huh." he casually outstretched his arm, shooting a web towards you and pulling you into him. "Can we just make it easy this time around? I'm feeling pretty tired tonight."

"Never." you shot him one of your sly smiles before kicking his leg out from under him. He grunted and caught himself before he fell, aiming a web at your wrist and pinning your arm against the pole of the radio tower behind you.

You pulled one of your knives from the latch on your pants, chopping at the web right, just barely dodging under him as he threw a punch towards you. Thinking you had escaped, you aimed a kick towards his chest, hoping it would give you enough time to sprint away, but he grabbed your leg and pushed you into the floor, webbing both your arms down in the process.

You struggled for a moment before giving up with a heavy sigh, looking to the side. "Fuck." You muttered.

"Hah. You can't escape me, lovey" he said teasingly, dragging a long finger along your jaw before pulling it back quickly as you attempted to bite him. "Don't touch me." You groaned, trying to kick yourself up. The webs however, were too strong.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spider-man?" You asked with an eye roll, looking up at his figure. "Not sure. I didn't really think I'd get this far." He admitted, chuckling at this and sitting down criss-crossed next to you.

You continued to fight at the webs, but they weren't giving in. "You seem...particularly angry tonight." He noticed, pinning your shoulder down with another web as a safeguard. You let out a frustrated grunt at this action before glaring at him. "Can you stop messing around with me and just let me go?"

He laughed. "If I let you go, it would defeat the whole purpose of catching ya." He leaned back with a sigh, tilting his head back to look up at the muted stars in the sky, obstructed by clouds of smog. "Nice night, innit?"

You watched him, biting the inside of your cheek in annoyance. "Wanker." You muttered under your breath. "What'd you just call me?" He asked, looking back down at you amusedly. "I'm not the one who was stupid enough to get caught, darling."

"Tonight's just not my night." You admitted with a sigh, lying back completely and letting you body relax as you realized you weren't getting away anytime soon. "Yeah? Why's that?"

"Why in the bloody hell would I tell you?" You asked him, glancing over at him. "Can't let my enemy know my weaknesses."

"Enemies? Is that what we are now?" He asked with a wink. "I don't enjoy having enemies. Yet I still seem to have a lot of 'em. I wonder why that is."

"I wonder." You replied sarcastically, smiling up at him. "They're just jealous of you, Spider-man."

"Yeah, they're just jealous." He laughed, putting his hands in his lap and leaning down towards you just slightly. "Look s'like you're making yourself comfortable."

"What else am I meant to do? You've got me all tied up." You said in an annoyed tone, frowning at him. He gave you a sympathetic nod. "It's either that, or getting my face kicked in. I'd rather keep the moneymaker intact."

"You could at least let me sit up." You said with a scoff. He hesitated for a moment, thinking it over, before he obliged, ripping the webs off. Even then, he barely gave you a second to adjust before he tied your hands together again, webbing them against the pole so that you wouldn't be able to escape. "Better? No more complaining, you prick."

"I'm not the prick in this situation." You rolled your eyes at him, looking to the side. "So we're not enemies then?"

The eyes of his mask widened slightly as he tried to think up a response. After a moment, he just shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Mmm." You glanced back at him, tilting your head slightly. "What are we, then?"

"What do you want to be?"

"What do you want to be?"

He stared at you, a flicker of hope flashing across his face- or rather mask. "Friends." You felt your heart drop slightly, eyes widening. "That can't happen."

"Why not?" He asked, in an almost childlike tone, as if he'd throw a tantrum if you refused. "I'm a villain. You're a hero. We can't be friends." You replied quietly, looking back to the side, trying your best to avoid eye contact.

His head followed your gaze, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. "You're not a villain. You're just-" he stopped himself, searching for the right words. "-confused."

You chuckled, looking up at him with big, sad eyes. "Confused?"

He nodded solemnly in response, looking out at the distance the same way you'd had. "Yea. You're just confused s'all. Just need a push in the right direction."

"And which direction is that?"

"Left." he looked back at you jokingly. "I'm just kidding. You know what I mean." his voice softened.

You couldn't help but feel like he was right. The two of you'd never acted like enemies. Yes, you fought, but never to the point of harming one another. It was always just banter and half-hearted jabs, all smiles and laughter with none of the blood. It was nice.

But it couldn't last forever.

Villains and heroes weren't friends.

Spider-man could never be friends with someone like you.

Which was why, the entire time he'd been talking, you'd been sawing away at the webs holding your arms behind your back, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

The moment his gaze softened, the moment his spider-sense had died down, you swallowed back your guilt and shot one of your gadgets at him, throwing him against the wall with a loud thud. He recovered quickly, looking back towards where you were with wide eyes, but it was too late.

You were already gone.

You watched him from atop the radio tower. You watched as he approached where the two of you had been sitting before and put his hands on his hips, looking down in frustration. He stayed there for another moment, as if he was hoping you'd return, but when you didn't he just left, his swinging not nearly as energetic as it'd been before.

You watched him leave before you jumped back down, approaching the edge of the rooftop and straining your vision to see him swinging towards the heart of the city, hundreds of yards away.

Fists clenched in frustration, in guilt, you stared out into the distance for another moment before whispering,

"Until next time, Spider-man. Next time."

[spacebunniezzz]

Ronnie Radke stans are some of the most annoying people I swear like they honestly might just be more annoying than king baby Ronnie himself and of course they all believe that the reason why people hate Ronnie is because they have pronouns and coloured hair like mother fuckers this dude LITERALLY came from a subculture full of teens with dyed hair and that was/is pro LGBTQ like of course we are against him like why are these people so surprised?

His stans are also mostly conservatives which makes sense why they aren't the brightest. They are reactionary individuals so of course they would love someone who is also that way and goes against cancel culture (the cancel culture in question is people just bringing up the shitty things Ronnie has said and done).

Sort of a side note but if a person brings up cancel culture when others bring up the bad things they have done in the past or accusations than I'm definitely going to be side eyeing their ass.

Ronnie comes off as just some manchild and I'm not surprised that he has the fanbase he does since he comes off as reactionary like this man can't even handle it when some teenager calls him out even though that used to be his target audience but now his fanbase is made up of MAGA chuds that cry, piss and whine about marginalized communities.

And what sucks is that this dude can actually be likeable at times and entertaining but instead he continues starting fights with other bands and has Blaire White who is a transphobe in one of his music videos. If most of your dick riders are right wing losers than eventually Ronnie will fade away. Nothing good comes out of having conservatives as your fanbase. Absolutely nothing and I will be here waiting for this dudes downfall once he realizes that he doesn't want to cater to those types of people anymore.

I want to make it very clear on this page that I don't like this dude and what he stands for and the community he has fostered and if you come here trying to argue or say some shit like "but he is so talented" blah blah blah whatever you are going to get blocked. I'm not talking about his music, I'm talking about him as a person and his fanbase and if you can't stand a person talking negatively about him and his fans 1. Stop stanning and riding celebrities dicks and 2. Just scroll on, it's that simple.

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 5) Chapter Six

Father Figure! Lucifer x Teen! Reader

Demon! OC x Teen! Reader

Chapter Six: You’re Supposed to be the Demon on My Shoulder, not the Angel

Summary: Lucifer tries to make things up to (Y/N), and Michael returns for round two.

            Em really shouldn’t have been surprised to walk into the penthouse to find people fighting at this point. Between all the incidents over the years, the penthouse had seen a lot of damage and fights, physical or not. This one happened to be on the physical side.

            That being said, Em was surprised. It was Maze and Lucifer going back and forth. Lucifer was obviously confused, but Maze had a look of pure anger as she slashed at him with her demon blades.

            I wish (Y/N) was here. They’d know how to approach this, thought Em.

            Instead, (Y/N) was hitching a ride with Leon to the craft store for fabric for a new project (for homecoming, which is why Em had come back to the penthouse. They thought they’d get a moment to prepare to try to ask (Y/N) more formally to the dance. Alas, it was not to be with another mess going on. She’d have to try again.)

            “Maze!” Lucifer managed to grab her and pin her down. “I’m not Michael. It’s me. Lucifer.”

            “Oh.” Maze reached up, and Lucifer relaxed. She grabbed him and headbutted him.

            Lucifer reeled back, and Em rushed in. Maze tried to hit Lucifer again, but Em moved between and blocked. Maze paused at the sight of the younger demon and backed off. Groaning, Lucifer wiggled his nose to make sure it was alright.

            “Wait, would you rather I was Michael?” said Lucifer incredulously.

            “Either,” hissed Maze.

            “You knew?” said Em, frowning. “About him?”

            “I saw him briefly,” admitted Maze.

            Em lunged, and it was Lucifer’s turn to hold them back from attacking. “He hurt (Y/N), you crazy demon!” shouted Em.

            “I don’t like Michael, either!” said Maze, equally angry. “He left me in a closet. But he—” Maze glared at Lucifer “—he left me, left us, to go to Hell.” She nearly growled. “You left me!”

            “No, no, I didn’t, Mazikeen,” said Lucifer, letting go of Em as she calmed. “You’re not my servant anymore. By all means, you’re welcome to join me.”

            “Em and I don’t have wings, you idiot!” spat Maze.

            “Well, Amenadiel does, why didn’t you ask him?” grumbled Lucifer.

            Maze stared at Lucifer, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill in her anger. Deciding she wasn’t sure what to say, she walked forward and shoulder-checked Lucifer.

            “Look, I’m really trying to listen, so if you’re telling me that you’d like to stab me, then…” Lucifer opened up his arms. “Go ahead. I need to prepare for (Y/N) getting home. I’m making plans with them.”

            Em decided to reschedule their plans to ask (Y/N) to homecoming. They needed a moment with their dad more than they needed someone to ask them to a dance right now. Plus…Em was nervous about asking them. What if (Y/N) said no? They hadn’t last time, but what if they asked if it was as more than friends? Would Em say yes? Would she say no? What would get a good answer from (Y/N)?

            To be frank: Em was terrified.

            Maze’s next words broke them out of her thoughts. “You seriously have no clue what you did.” She spun on her heel and left.

            Lucifer let out a sigh. “Well, at least (Y/N) didn’t react like that.”

            “That’s just because they didn’t have a knife on them,” said Em. “And you didn’t see what Michael got when he tried to be you and came back to the penthouse.”

            Lucifer shivered. “From what I heard, he also earned quite a scar, so I’m quite glad I was not on the receiving end of (Y/N)’s wrath.”

            “You still might be. Your return shocked them to tears, but they’ve recovered their wits. Anger’s next,” said Em jovially, knowing (Y/N)’s habits very well.

            Lucifer sighed. “First the Detective’s wrath, then Mazikeen’s, and now (Y/N)’s. What joy.”

            “What’s wrong with the Detective?” asked Em.

            “She found out about being a gift from God.” Lucifer waved a hand. “She needs, as (Y/N) would say, time to process…Hopefully.” He shook his head. “(Y/N) is my priority. I need to make sure they’re alright.”

            “They’ll be arriving home soon,” said Em. “Do you want me to give you two some time?”

            “That won’t be necessary,” said Lucifer. “I’m taking them out to a fashion show.”

            Not a bad plan. “Good luck with them,” said Em, heading towards the stairs.

            “Emeranne,” called Lucifer. She paused and looked back. “Did you and Mazikeen truly wish to return to Hell?”

            “…Maybe Maze did. I’m not sure,” said Em. “But I didn’t. I’m happy here.” With Leon, Marcel, Olive, Noa. With (Y/N). I wouldn’t leave it for the world.

l

            “Hello, (Y/N),” said Lucifer, smiling as (Y/N) came in and put down their shopping bags.

            “You’re still here?” said (Y/N), cautious, wary about getting closer.

            “I said I would be for a bit, yes,” said Lucifer, nodding.

            “Okay,” said (Y/N), but their shoulders relaxed at the knowledge. That was nice.

            “I was thinking that maybe you’d want to go out tonight?” suggested Lucifer.

            “I don’t know, I just gone done getting interrogated by my friends,” said (Y/N). “They all surprised me in the car and insisted I explain why I snapped them a photo of myself beaten up last night, so then I had to go over the Michael Problem, so now I’m exhausted.”

            “Ah…” Lucifer cleared his throat. “Well, this isn’t a terribly energy-consuming activity. It’s a fashion show.”

            (Y/N) perked up. “Wait…really?”

            Inwardly, Lucifer prided himself in knowing that (Y/N) would enjoy this. It was a step in the right direction, and it was a way to make sure they knew he cared. He had said the words, now the actions had to show it.

            “…I guess we can go,” said (Y/N).

            They had no idea how much those few, nonchalant words made Lucifer brighten with hope and love.

l

            (Y/N) and Lucifer watched the procession of clothing go by. The fashion show was closing, so the models were all going down showing the highlights of it once more.

            “I think these were quite nice, even if not my style,” said Lucifer (he had, of course, chosen a showing by a designer that had a more alternative look on fashion since that was what (Y/N) preferred).

            “I really liked the color pairings,” agreed (Y/N). “Ordinarily, a lot of those combinations would be clashing, but with the fabrics, they work well together.”

            Lucifer didn’t understand all of that (he had a tailor for that reason), but he nodded in support of (Y/N). “How is your own work going? I suspect you made those pants, didn’t you?”

            (Y/N) looked down at their pants with the holes stitched over with patches that conspicuously depicted angels and demons. “I had torn them, so I fixed them up, yeah.” They clapped as the designer came out and bowed. “I don’t have time for a lot of creations for myself right now. I’m doing homecoming outfits for myself and my friends, and that’s already on top of my senior project.”

            Lucifer winced. Right. (Y/N) was a senior. A young one, yes, because of when they were born, but they were reaching another milestone for humans. And Lucifer would be leaving them again.

            His heart ached.

            “What is your senior project?” asked Lucifer, trying to push aside his sadness and focus on the time he had with (Y/N).

            “A fashion show,” said (Y/N).

            They looked down and fiddled with the ends of their sleeves, their telltale sign of anxiety. Lucifer would never forget that. He reached out and touched their hand supportively.

            “I think that’s lovely. No one could do it but you,” said Lucifer.

            (Y/N) felt themself relax at the support of their dad. They looked at him. “It’s silly to some people, but I applied to several schools for fashion design, and this show as a senior project will be a chance to really show them what I’m made of.”

            “I believe you’ll blow them away,” said Lucifer, smiling.

            (Y/N) glanced at him nervously. “You think so?” They were so confident in themself in other areas of their life—with celestials, demons, and all of that, it was easy to just be straightforward and deal with things—but the things they really cared about, the parts of themself that regular humans judged…that was tough.

            “Absolutely,” said Lucifer. “And I don’t lie.”

            (Y/N) let themself grin. “I can’t wait to show you.”

            “I would like to see,” said Lucifer. But I don’t know when I’ll have to return to Hell.

            The unspoken words rested in (Y/N) and Lucifer’s minds.

            (Y/N) cleared their throat and continued, trying not to get choked up by anger or sadness. If they only had a limited amount of time left with their dad, then they had to take advantage of it. They couldn’t be stupid.

            “Leon is writing a novel for his project,” said (Y/N), deciding to fill Lucifer in on what he’d missed in their life and to distract themself. “Noa is working with a bunch of parks across the city to help the indigenous plant-life regrow and survive. Olive is studying martial arts and developing a program to teach women or at-risk minorities. Marcel is composing.”

            “A varied group,” said Lucifer, chuckling.

            “We’re all hoping to help people,” said (Y/N) excitedly. “My goal is to have clothes that people can actually afford and will last, Noa wants to transition into also helping communities have fresh fruit and vegetables regularly, Olive is all about empowerment, and Marcel wants to inspire more people to create and work with them to produce music so more people have their voices lifted.”

            “And what about Emeranne?” asked Lucifer.

            (Y/N) coughed and ducked their head. Lucifer blinked as he saw their cheeks warm. That was something he had never seen before.

            “They’re, well, they’re my model,” said (Y/N). “She thinks doing all the human stuff is silly, but they help me a lot. They really support me.”

            Ah. So Emeranne’s loyalty is with (Y/N). Lucifer cocked his head. Interesting. If this was what he suspected, he’d be pleased. No one would ever be good enough for his child, but a non-human that clearly had strength and supported them wouldn’t be a terrible choice.

            “I’m glad you’re doing well,” said Lucifer.

            “I mean, it’s been hard to find inspiration. I’ve been really struggling,” said (Y/N). “But I actually—I actually designed some pieces I liked today. I guess having you back is nice.” The “I guess” part was an understatement, but (Y/N) was attempting to be vulnerable. It definitely wasn’t their favorite thing, but they loved their dad.

            “I’m glad to be here,” said Lucifer, gaze softening. He loved his kid.

l

            “Hey, Birdie, Boss,” said Em as Lucifer and (Y/N) walked back into the penthouse. “How was the show?”

            “It was really good,” said (Y/N), smiling at Em.

            The demon grinned back, but their motivation was due to (Y/N) and Lucifer’s relaxed body language together. Clearly, the time together was helping them. Em was happy for (Y/N).

            “We had a nice time,” said Lucifer, looking fondly at (Y/N).

            Woosh!

            “How sickeningly sweet,” sneered a familiar southern drawl.

            Lucifer sighed, Em tensed, and (Y/N) groaned. They turned, and, sure enough, it was Michael standing in the penthouse.

            “Michael,” said Lucifer, his previous joy and softness changing to cold wariness. He refused to let down his guard after (Y/N) got injured by Michael. “I was wondering when you’d show our face again.” He looked at the nasty cut across Michael’s face. “Though, thankfully, mine is far better-looking than yours now.” Lucifer wasn’t against scars in many people, but he thought Michael was ugly inside and out, so there.

            Em moved a little in front of (Y/N). It wouldn’t really do anything, and, actually, (Y/N) had stronger abilities than her, but they refused to leave (Y/N) unprotected. They had to protect them.

            “Welcome home,” sneered Michael. “I have your brat to thank.”

            “Remind me to raise their allowance,” said Lucifer to Em.

            “I’ll take the money now, if you have it,” said (Y/N).

            Michael’s eyebrow twitched. Losing the attention, he was frustrated. “How’d you like the mess I made, Samael?”

            “ ‘Samael?’ ” repeated (Y/N).

            “An old name,” said Lucifer, rolling his eyes. “Trying to get under my skin, brother? It will take more than that.”

            Michael grinned. “Well, I did do a lot of work turning your life upside down.”

            “I think that backfired,” said (Y/N), narrowing their eyes on his scar.

            “Birdie, let’s not antagonize anyone,” murmured Em.

            “You’re supposed to be the demon on my shoulder, not the angel,” huffed (Y/N).

            “You did turn up, Samael,” said Michael. “So I’d say I succeeded in my goal. Do you wonder why I’m doing all this?”

            “Not particularly,” said Lucifer.

            “You Celestials are always up to shit for stupid reasons,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            “We just deal with the problems as they come,” said Em.

            “Oh, right, because you’re so above all of this,” scoffed Michael. “You, brat, are the one with so much wrath you gave me a scar.”

            “It was self-defense,” said (Y/N) coldly. “As far as I’m concerned, you earned it.”

            “I’ll give you another one if you even take a step towards them,” said Em immediately as they saw Michael’s eyes narrow.

            “You think you’re all so cool,” said Michael, sneering.

            “Well, isn’t that what this is all about?” said Lucifer, diverting attention back to himself. “You turning my life upside-down actually means you had to act like me, and, as (Y/N) proved, it didn’t turn out too well.” He was incredibly proud of them for what they’d done to Michael (and also a bit intimidated since that sort of power hadn’t been displayed by (Y/N) in front of him).

            “It worked enough to get you’re here, didn’t it?” snapped Michael.

            Lucifer rolled his eyes and looked at (Y/N) and Em. “It’s the only trick he ever pulled. All our lives he wanted everyone to think that he was the cleverer one, the big brain, but…it’s only ever been about me, about trying to be me. He always thought too small.”

            “Not like you, right?” retorted Michael. “Lucifer the rebel, deciding you can do a better job than Dad? You know, I wonder how you got that idea into your head in the first place.”

            Lucifer chuckled. “So that’s your play, is it? Taking credit for my failed rebellion? By all means, it’s yours.”

            “Now, you see, that is the best part,” said Michael. “All I did was plant the idea. You’re the one who chose to do it. You still get to keep all the blame yourself.”

            Lucifer’s jaw tensed, and (Y/N) furrowed their brow as Michael got under his skin. Oh, Hell no. He’s not doing that to Lucifer.

            “Your lies are so tedious, Michael,” said Lucifer, but it wasn’t as forceful as other statements had been.

            “Not as tedious as your denial,” said Michael, stepping forward. “’Cause I’m not lying now, brother, and I think, deep down, you’re realizing that.”

            “No,” said Luicfer.

            “How about something more recent, then?” said Michael. “All it took was a couple whispers and coincidence here and there, and Lucifer’s endless self-absorption made him so easy to manipulate that it even ended up with him on vacation here on Earth.”

            “Why?” said Lucifer.

            “Why?” Michael sneered. “Because all our lives, you thought that you were better than me. The great Lucifer Morningstar. But you’re not, are you? You’re just Samael. You’re just unworthy.”

            (Y/N)’s heart flamed with fury as they saw Lucifer’s glaze with the slightest hint of tears. “Shut up, Michael. You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re grasping at straws to play our fears. But they’re just that—fears. They don’t mean anything in reality.” (Y/N) held their head high and took Lucifer’s hand. “This is my dad. I know him better than you do. And he’s not self-absorbed. He has problems, sure, and a terrible ego, but he cares about his friends and family. He is better than you, in every way. It’s you who can’t stand the truth. That’s why you’re trying to hurt him. Your fears are the only ones coming true.”

            Lucifer, Michael, and Em stared at (Y/N). They had spoken so confidently, so straightforwardly. At their speech, Lucifer and Em couldn’t help but be filled with assurance that everything they spoke was true, and Michael found that his own words wilted in comparison.

            Lucifer smiled, finding strength in (Y/N)’s assurance and fortitude. He squeezed his kid’s hand. “I think they’ve hit the nail on the head, don’t you, Michael?” He smiled at (Y/N). “My child is ever so clever.”

            “They’re just good at twisting words,” sneered Michael.

            “They are, but that’s not what they’re doing,” said Em, stepping forward. “They told the truth. You’re not winning anything trying to get under Lucifer or Birdie’s skin. Just leave.”

            “And preferably don’t come back,” said (Y/N).

            Michael gritted his teeth. “This isn’t over.” He extended his wings, beat them once, and disappeared.

             “Your family is the worst, Dad,” sighed (Y/N).

            Lucifer smiled. “Luckily, you’re a much better person than they are, (Y/N).”

            “And now you’re 2-0 versus Michael,” said Em. They frowned. “What does he expect to happen in a third round?”

            (Y/N) shrugged. “He thinks this is him versus my dad.”

            “I’d prefer if it was,” said Lucifer. He squeezed (Y/N)’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t be involved with this.”

            “That’s what I’m always thinking, but then here I am,” said (Y/N) brightly. “I’ve dealt with Biblical people, demons, and even angels now. Last person to take on in an argument is God.”

            “Please don’t,” said Lucifer.

            “Actually, I’d really like to see what would happen with that,” said Em.

            “Don’t encourage them,” said Lucifer.

            “There’s the demon on my shoulder!” said (Y/N), laughing.

            Lucifer groaned. “Please go to be before you get any more terrible ideas.”

            “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Dad,” said (Y/N), waving their hand and walking off.

            Lucifer sincerely hoped that (Y/N) didn’t ever have to deal with his Father when it came to any sort of drama, but that concern was overwhelmed with the joy of being called “Dad” again. He was a sucker for his kid, the person he loved more than any other on Earth.

l

            “Hey, um, Birdie?” said Em, entering (Y/N)’s room after getting ready for bed.

            “Yeah?” said (Y/N), looking up from where they were hunched over sketchbooks in their PJs.

            “I wanted to talk to you about something,” said Em.

            “What is it? Are you still worried about Michael?” asked (Y/N).

            “I mean, yeah, but that’s not what this is about,” said Em.

            “Okay, what is it?” said (Y/N).

            Em took a deep breath. Come on, don’t be a coward, you are literally a demon forged in Hell not some regular human. From behind their back, she held out a card. “Here.”

            (Y/N), confused but curious, stood up, took the letter, and opened it. Written in pretty cursive was a brief poem:

You’re an angel, I’m a demon, But hopefully Heaven and Hell can both agree, That you will go Homecoming, With me.

            “I know it’s cheesy as shit,” said Em, rambling. “And it’s not flowers like that time, and there’s never any pressure, but—”

            (Y/N) reached out and took Em’s hand. Their cheeks warmed in a blush, and they smiled at Em. “Of course I’d go with you to Homecoming with you.”

            “Really?” said Em excitedly.

            “Obviously.” (Y/N) chuckled. “Did you seriously forget that I was happy to go with you last year, too?”

            “I mean, yeah, but things change, and it’s still…I don’t know. You’re kind of scary,” admitted Em, managing to be honest without admitting her crush.

            (Y/N) rolled their eyes. “You’re so stupid, but I guess I like your nervousness. It’s cute.” They leaned up, kissed Em’s cheek, and then stepped back. They grinned, heart pounding since that had been a risky move. “Goodnight, Em.”

            “Night!” said Em, nearly squeaking in shock. For all their ability to tease (Y/N) in the day-to-day, all sense went out the window when it came to vulnerability and flirting. (She’d have to work on that if she ever wanted to really confess).

l

            Michael nearly punched the mirror in front of him as he gazed at the scar across his face. Twice he’d tried to hurt Lucifer, first by messing with his kid and then with him directly, and twice that same brat had ruined it. (Y/N) was proving to be the biggest obstacle to Michael destroying Lucifer’s life. If only (Y/N) was out of the way, then Michael could teach Lucifer a lesson and prove he was better than the King of Hell…

            Alright, Antichrist. It’s time for you to learn your place.

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[trickstarbrave]

hi im insane still so i wrote smth up

its not rly proof read. sorry abt that.

this is from @mulberrycafe's fic fool's prayer. i just have evil!voryn on the brain REAL bad.

Nerevar blinked. He was no longer in his office, but outside in a courtyard. It was…. Peaceful. The rushing anxiety of being in his office was being washed away by fluffy white clouds passing by. It wasn’t cloudy or with an ash storm blowing, as it usually was in Morrowind, especially after Red Mountain’s eruption. A few birds could be heard in the distance too, adding to the soft, peaceful atmosphere. 

Nerevar wanted to relax. He was tired. So very, very tired. Tired of running the country and fighting the council every step of the way. Tired of trying to make life better for his people and being blocked. Every time he wanted to try and do something good, there was endless squabbling. Distractions came up instead, as the houses fought with each other, refusing to put aside old rivalries for everyone’s benefit. It was like pulling teeth trying to get anything done--and when he did lose his temper, the councilmen pointing at him and blaming him. 

“It’s your fault Red Mountain erupted, when you destroyed the tribunal’s rule.” Some would blame. “Why haven’t the Good Daedra resolved it then? If there is mercy from them, they would have solved the problem. We could go back to VVardenfell. We could be a great nation again. But instead we continue to beg for scraps at the altar of gods. The Good Three have made their point clear: we are to suffer the trials. Therefore, everyone suffers with us. It’s naivety to presume we can help them with stupid acts of charity.”

He had no energy anymore. His limbs felt too heavy to move. Vivec said he admired Nerevar’s ability to always be optimistic and hopeful, but Nerevar was beginning to run out of steam. 

Things were easier, in the days of Resdayn; they had a common enemy to unite against, after all. The Great Houses could set their squabbling and infighting aside long enough to drive the nords out, and then welcomed the prosperity Nerevar brought afterwards as they rebuilt the nation. 

“Neht,” Nerevar heard Voryn call for him, and he refused to turn. 

He knew what this was. Another attempt to win him over. Another attempt to crack his resolve. Nerevar didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He didn’t know how many times he could drive him away. Nerevar hated how Voryn was starting to, in some twisted way, make sense. And even more importantly, Nerevar hated having to hurt the man he loved over and over, even if it was for the good of everyone. 

Arms wrapped around him again, a cold chill, as always. “You won't even look at me now?” Voryn asked, nuzzling into his hair from behind. 

“I’m tired of these games, Voryn.” Nerevar tried desperately to keep his voice level and firm. “I’m not changing my answer.” Voryn gave a dark, deep chuckle, the type of tone Nerevar adored. 

He was afraid if he turned around, he would crack. He was terrified if he looked at the face of his beloved, his resolve would crumble and he’d throw his arms around Voryn, kissing him for all he was worth.

“I’m not playing a game.” Voryn whispered softly in his ear, breath tickling the sensitive skin and making his ear twitch. “I want to give you everything you have ever wanted, Nerevar.”

“No, you--”

“I want to give you a peaceful country.” Voryn cut him off, continuing with that slow, deep voice in his ear, rubbing circles on his stomach. “I want to stop those councilors from using you… Because I love you.”

“This isn’t love!” Nerevar stressed, his hands shaking fists at his side as he actively fought the desire to sink into the embrace. 

“Yes, it is.” Voryn whispered again, sharper in his ear. “The love I have had for you for thousands of years.” Nerevar shut his eyes tightly now. “And I know you love this country, Neht. I’ve known all this time. That’s why I love it too. That’s why I want to help you.”

“This isn’t helping me.” Nerevar grit, fighting the urge to scream or sob.

“I want to give you so much more than just a peaceful country too, Nerevar.” That soothing voice was trying to melt the tension off his body, but Nerevar refused to relax. If he did, it would be over, he reminded himself. He couldn’t be weak in front of Voryn with what Voryn was capable of. “I want to soothe all your worries, love and support you in the way you deserve…”

Nerevar refused to respond. He couldn’t find the words--not when Voryn sounded so soft and sweet in his ear, whispering like a gentle lover. It was the same tone of voice he used to soothe all of Nerevar’s injuries in the past, the same tone when he reassured and comforted Nerevar, and the same tone he used when they would make love. 

“Ayem hardly even took care of you back then,” Voryn continued, now bringing one hand up to rub his shoulder soothingly. “But she at least helped you govern. Helped keep people in line.” Nerevar shivered slightly as he felt teeth graze his ear ever so slightly. “I can help you with that. I can keep the council in line… All as you will it, my beloved.” 

He knew it was a lie. A sweet, sweet lie. If it was Nerevar’s will, he wouldn’t have hurt the Good Daedra. If it were his will, Voryn would have stopped by now. If it was his will…

“I can even give you what she refused.” Voryn smirked against his skin now. “Love, devotion…” Voryn pressed a kiss behind his ear, watching it twitch again. “... And even a family.” 

Nerevar’s eyes shot open at that, his heart racing in his chest, only to find himself no longer in the courtyard, but inside the temple. It was in a well decorated room, quite, a tranquil warmth radiating throughout the whole room that tugged on his heartstrings. 

In front of him was a traditional chimeri hammock for infants, a little bundle inside it. Nerevar found himself unable to blink, his body all but screaming at him to move. His whole body shook and his legs felt weak, his heart beating even faster in his chest. 

“Don’t you want this?” Voryn asked, his voice soft and pleading now, almost saddened. “I can give you the family you wanted, Neht…” Nerevar’s hands unclenched as his hands yearned to reach out. “A beautiful family, as large or as small as you wish… Raised with love and care, in a country that is finally full of peace and prosperity…” His eyes remained fixated on the small bundle, slowly beginning to move. 

“Why don’t you hold our son?” Voryn asked him, and Nerevar found himself unable to stop his feet from moving, bringing him closer and closer as the infant began wiggling around and fussing in earnest, having woken up from his nap. 

In his arms, they felt even more real: alive and the perfect weight in his arms, filling him with warmth. Soft black waves were on his head, as he blinked up at Nerevar with large, blue eyes and giggled, reaching for him. Tears rolled down Nerevar’s cheeks as he leaned down to nuzzle against the baby, overwhelmed.

Nerevar wanted this. He wanted it so badly it felt like his chest was being ripped out. He wanted a family with the man he loved. He wanted children of his own. He wanted to just be selfish for once, and have something all to himself. 

When he was king in the past, he was denied being a father, despite how much he had always wanted to be. His marriage with Ayem, while politically beneficial, was strained in most of the personal aspects. Almalexia had her own lovers and concubines to tend to her, and saw little purpose in sleeping with Nerevar, even to produce a child. Even the Indoril council said they didn’t want to bother with having a child, not when they could pick a better heir that suited their political goals. Instead he was always just told to find someone else to have a child with if he wanted to be a parent that badly.

But he knew that wasn’t possible. He was king, yes, but he wasn’t of noble blood; he lacked the political power to fully protect them. Nerevar refused to selfishly have a child he knew he couldn’t protect and let them get hurt or killed just to spite him by some political enemies. 

And yet… That wish never truly died. That desire never went away. It was always there, in the back of his mind, gnawing at his psyche. He was tired of being king only to create more problems and enemies for himself. He was tired of fighting off assassins and attackers. He was tired of going to bed alone. He was tired of giving everything he had for nothing in return. 

And then the weight in his arms was gone, as Nerevar found himself not in a nursery but instead in complete blackness instead.

“No…” Nerevar begged, tears still rolling down his cheeks. It felt like his heart was being ripped out and crushed. It had been so real--Nerevar could still feel the phantom warmth in his arms, hear the sound of laughter. “Voryn, please--!” His arms instead curled up around him, trying in vain to comfort himself and failing as he openly sobbed. 

“Shh…” Voryn whispered, stroking his hair from behind. “Why don’t I give you time to think about my offer instead?” Voryn asked. Typically, Voryn was pushy in these dreams, trying desperately to make Nerevar give in. Now that he was falling apart in front of him, he seemed to be taking a different approach. 

Nerevar didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. Not when he was still grieving. Not when he was crying and sobbing, wishing more than anything that such a sweet dream was real. 

“Nerevar!” Nerevar’s eyes shot open again, tears still running down his cheeks, to see a Vivec staring down at him rather than the piercing red eyes of Voryn as he half expected. “Nerevar,” Vivec, seeing as he had finally woken him up, wiped the tears from his face. “It’s alright…” He murmured, trying desperately to soothe him.

Nerevar, his emotions still raw, wrapped his arms around Vivec and sobbed once more. 

He didn’t know if Vivec knew why he was crying. Nerevar was too ashamed to say, and too hurt to give a coherent answer even if he wanted to. 

He didn’t know how much more he could take of this, even as Vivec held him close, rubbing his back in slow circles, trying to comfort him. 

His heart was breaking.