#Just waiting for some hate mail at this point

[writingforfishes]

heyyy @hic-hic-dreams here!

any fun facts about otto and atticus youve never gotten to share before? i cant beleive how invested ive gotten in these kink-fic characters lives but i adore them.

i entirely understand projecting onto a oc like atticus btw lol, my girl holly is that to a lesser extent and i adore her for it lmao.

also ty for giving me the courage to make my blog in the first place, i love your writing sm

Oof! Thank you so much!!! I am in awe that I've inspired people with my silly stories, and it brings me so much joy for it!!!

Hm...things you all don't know, yet.

There is a prompt that was sent to my inbox that I am brainstorming on filling that will show another way Otto gets induced. A little birthday trip courtesy of Atticus which I plan to be wholesome (and then a bit saucy). You'll tank me later.

I feel like I've talked (possibly too much) about trauma. But there is some background I'm aware of that I've recently been able to piece together to the reason Mark and Otto know each other (with some borrowing from the source material of his character) and what the drama is between Mark and Jana and Mark and Alice. And how/why, exactly, Mark and Otto became such good friends. (A detective and a clock maker with a 10-year age gap don't usually hang out in the same places...)

I've mentioned how Atticus has big ole belches and Otto tries to hold them in. It's a possible reason to why Otto is more prone to hiccups (or prone at all) compared to Atty.

Oh oh! I know!

I really want to skate the line of making a sneeze-related fic. As I've mentioned before, I don't actually have a sneeze fetish, but I do appreciate the fics a lot for hurt/comfort elements and some lack of control with sneezing. That being said, Otto, as is demonstrated in a previous story, has pretty powerful sneezes.

Otto is also, I decided, allergic to cats. Atticus bemoans this fact because all they feel is lacking in their household is a cat. Otto is, decidedly, a dog person if he had the choice. But he hesitates on bringing any animal in with his fastidiousness on keeping his house and his workstation clean and tidy.

That being said, I've wondered about researching allergy shots when it comes to cats. I think Otto sneezing would be a fun thing to play with, as well. I suspect Cindy actually has a sneeze fetish and it would be interesting to see her reaction if Otto is sneezing one game night over and her and Margie's place.

It would be something fun to play with if Margie unwittingly finds out about Atticus' fetish and Otto finds out about Cindy's. Imagine these two connecting over having partners with the most adorable kinks. I dunno, there's something sweet and wholesome about that in my mind.

Anyway! Good questions and thank you, again, for adding another compliment to my compliment box. (Genuinely still don't know what to do with all of this positive feedback. I dunno, maybe I'll figuratively mail it out to someone...)

[peachesofteal]

Dad!John Price/female reader This has been living in my head

“Beautiful out, isn’t it?” 

The old woman on the docks hitches her shoulder bag higher, eyes fixed on nothing in the distance. John hums an agreement, low pitch slow to rise from his chest. It’s not a dismissal, but not conversation. Non-committal. About as much as you’ll get from him, on a day like today. 

He keeps his focus on the expanse of the bay. A metamorphic magma layered coastal cradle holding entire populations of people, and animals, those that live on land… and at sea. 

He’s waiting for a fleck of dust on the horizon, a small speck that will slowly turn into ferry, one that carries some passengers, a few packages, bundles of mail by the heap. It is beautiful today; he doesn’t disagree. But it’s not because of the weather.  It’s because the ferry is carrying more than just a few passengers home. It’s carrying his worst nightmare. The final nail in a coffin. His own personal hell.

And… 

His brightest light. His favorite part of everyday. His everything. The reason his heart still beats.

Both on the same boat. 

The sun shines through the tips of the trees, bright on his face, casting an amber yellow glow over the harbor, and he basks in it, even with the brittle cold. 

The warmth of the light is foreign this time year, a time year when creeks all run underneath a quickly thickening layer of ice, morning frost lingers beneath cloud cover, and bears sleep.  

The town will be full of life today. The bar at the top of the hill, the only one in town, will be burning the midnight oil, everyone appearing at some point throughout the night, eager to have one last rousing round with neighbors and friends before the true cold of winter sets in. 

Of course, they don’t hate the cold. They wouldn’t live here if they did. 

Life is different in the winter. Year round. Life here revolves more around the weather and the seasons than anywhere else he’s ever been, or lived, and everything from the kelp to the whales, the deer and sea lions, the people, and the wolves, depend on the promise of perpetual change. 

The tide washes through little pebbles of ancient volcanic rock like a lullaby, one so familiar he swears he can hear it when he’s working, when he’s worlds away in his mind. It’s peaceful, full of memories, nostalgia beating in his blood for something long gone, long past. 

His heart aches, for a moment. Long enough that his brow furrows, and his hands find his pocket, anxiously feeling for the chain. 

The ferry shatters his memories, blaring across the beach, and the old woman gives him a smile. 

“Early today.” This time, John does respond. 

“Good.” 

“You must be John.” She offers her hand, face half hidden beneath a large hood and knit muff, black pants and coat nearly matching his. 

He hesitates, fingers flexing, and she doesn’t miss a beat, moving on to step around him, speaking briefly to the ferry captain, an old grizzled man who stared at John the entire trip, blatant curiosity wrinkling his frown lines. 

The wind cuts through his jacket, snaking beneath his layers, forcing his muscles tense. 

Bloody freezing. He's been cold, plenty, but this bitterness has bite.

She squints and jerks her head towards the end of the dock, sunlight glittering in her eyes. They’re beautiful, a rich shade of coffee and hazel, golden spotted and drusy, a cluster of crystals inside dark pupils. They’re a color he could drown in. The kind of eyes he could see in his dreams for the rest of his life.

The kind of eyes capable of disarming him, before he's even drawn a weapon.

“C’mon. Truck’s got heat.” 

“Mari says you’ve never been a Ranger before.” She tries to make casual conversation with him, patting the steering wheel as the truck sputters to life. Gears grind, they churn, and she smiles, glancing at the road before putting it in gear. It’s old, rusted in a quaint way, the kind that makes him think of old industrial parks and aging tanks, a rugged red chipped away above the passenger wheel well, rubbed raw by salt air. 

“I have… relative experience.” He’s careful with his words, hesitant about over divulging, and she shrugs. 

“With people? Or wildlife?” He points his face out the window. With people, sure. With bears and wolves and whatever else lurks in these woods, less so. 

The truck climbs a windy road, pushing up above the cove, narrow pitted pavement flanked by forest so black he can hardly see a meter inside the tree line. The shadow that lingers inside the tree line is primordial, alive, and he blinks when he thinks he sees something moving, deep in the dark. Douglas fir, silver fir, white pine flash by, occasional road signs with pictures of animals and speed limits dotting the way. “Logging is big industry out here. Forestry feeds a lot of families in this area, but it can be a point of contention.” She motions past him to another cove, one tucked just around the bend from where the ferry came in, its surface covered in shaved logs, all nearly uniform in size, floating together in rows upon rows, waiting for their next voyage. 

“That what you do? Er… logging?” Her hands are rough, skin cracked, nails trimmed short, and the coat is utility. Built for labor. For weather. It’s a natural conclusion. 

“No. I run the nature center in the late spring and summer. No tourism in fall or winter though, so I find other things to do. Work for the park. Tag trees. Winter trail maintenance. Wildlife management.” The truck rattles into a left turn, and she waves at someone in an oncoming car. “Guess I kinda work for you now.” Her chuckle is light, sweet, and his cheeks feel warm. “What brought you all the way up here?” 

Bloody hell. 

“Needed a change of pace.” 

“Long way to come for a change.” She muses, and he agrees. It is very, very far. Three planes, two ferries, this truck. Hours of travel, temperature dropping in ten degree increments every time he stepped outside. He doesn’t know how to answer that, how to tell her, what he’s doing here, how to say he had to leave things behind. 

The island changes, geology shifting, granite turning to mud and grass, darkness fading as the truck putters into its final descent.

He instinctively taps the tags in his pocket, a nervous tic that’s develops over the last few months since he took them off for the last time and clears his throat. 

“Yes. It is.” 

The ferry sidles up the wooden dock, rocking in the waves, captain giving the small, older woman next to him a friendly wave. At his side, a woman stands, straight backed and proud, eyes sharp against the setting sun. 

Is that…

You catch his gaze, glancing at the Ranger badge on his coat, and then nodding, hand lifting in acknowledgement. 

His breath freezes in his chest. You’re stunning. Beautiful, like the land, like the strait, and for a second, he forgets himself. 

Igneous rock hardens in his stomach, in his heart.

He's lost at sea. Lost in the swell. An eddy line of devastation sweeps him out, past the lighthouse on the rocks, past the pod of resident orcas, past the point of no return.

He's drowning.

Only to be brought back by one of his favorite sounds in the entire world. 

“Dad!”

[hangesdarling]

Can I ask for hate sex with hange?

(Hope this fits within your rules!)

commitment — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x female reader SYNOPSIS. Commander Hange find it difficult to commit into a relationship with you. CONTENT. 18+, MDNI, biting, leaving bite marks, vaginal fingering, oral sex (hange receiving), overstimulation, panty stuffing, scissoring, angst, alcoholism, teasing, dirty talk (lmk what else) WORD COUNT. 4.1k (i got carried away 😭) A/N. School may be killing me but at least I get to write this angsty smut for Hange (sorry for taking so long anon, and yesss, this fits with my rules 💕)

Your privilege from birth remained an indelible mark and only strengthened when your father rose to rank in the military police brigade. Those itchy elegant clothes at private parties, or of wearing a proper pin-up dress when you want to cross the road without a word of judgment became a pervasive familiarity.

Maybe even freedom contorted itself to your comfort and safety for you only saw Titans in those publications. Hange thought of you as an entitled woman untouched even by the dust from Shiganshina as expected from someone who lived in the inner walls from birth. 

But you love playing with fire. You love Hange's esoteric yet strangely fascinating eye bored through you across that expansive room. It was full of people in the usual fancy setting you were used to. Empty words were exchanged through them as if a common meeting could create another layer of peace to prevent such bonds from breaking. 

However, tonight was not so tasteless when you're exchanging wordless conversations and suggestive glances with the Commander of the Survey Corps. 

The party was not fascinating but the eventual meetings that followed were. For some time, your father almost believed you were interested in a position in the military from how you frequented the headquarters. Your surreptitious meetings with Hange came once a week, turning twice or thrice later on. Eventually, their vision of you as an entitled woman shattered under one kiss followed by sloppy lovemaking in their office. 

"So you weren't so stuck up after all," Hange mused, their lips stained with the gloss from your lips. 

"And you weren't so sophisticated, Commander." A teasing smirk rose on your lips, fingers circling the angry kiss marks trailing up from their chest to their neck. Your hips mounted to reposition yourself in their lap, earning an appreciative smile from them just for your boldness. "Taking me right here in the office? Really?" 

Your banters flowed like fluid robbed of viscosity, a free-flowing connection to the soul. Hange has this charming, relaxed smile, a glimpse of their youth smothered by the weight of responsibility on their shoulders. Your presence became a prying tool, each loving word uttered lifting the heaviness within them. 

You relished on those weekdays you had to pretend that you were not fucking the Commander. A sensational thrill shot through your body, even to the tips of your toes just from writing each lipstick-stained letter, each lewd word placed upon paper to be mailed directly at their office disguised as a formal letter. 

Lately, your meetings have thinned to twice or thrice a month, putting intense yearning upon waiting for a familiar letter in your mailbox. It wasn't frequent but Hange had a way with words, and it was enough to make you read their letter the way a devotee reads their bible. 

However, upon another chance of meeting after such intense longing, you found Hange in haste, bounding your conversation into half an hour based on how the clock on their wrist ticked. 

So you hugged them, you nestled your head on their chest like you always used to as if doing so would merit their stay. 

"Sweetheart, I really have no time for this," their tone sounded apologetic, as if in repentance for your yearning bounded by their time. "Say what you want to say, Y/N."

"Tell me, Hange. What are we?" It was soft yet so pointed that Hange stirred from your touch. They can't find a way to scoot around the topic with your tone of adamance. Their lips pursed into a thin line before sighing. 

"Y/N, we've talked about this." 

Your fists clenched at their olive uniform, your face remained buried on their chest. 

"But Hange... We've been seeing each other for such a long time now. And I..."

Hange knows you cannot finish your sentence, each word snatched from your mouth for fear of sounding pathetic. 

"Y/N, look, I wasn't carved out for such a commitment," they pulled away gently, lifting your chin to look at them and letting go eventually when you shook their hand off. "I care for you, Y/N. But we can't do this now." 

That's what you always say, you wanted to scream out. That this wasn't the right time, that it would be best to keep things this way not to hurt each other. You always do this as if there was always a better time than now.

Your hand clenched around their coat once more then let go all at once. Hange's watch ticked twice.

"I hate you," your lips moved in scorn, in an angry desperation to not burst into tears. It took all Hange's strength to not argue back, to resist your statement and pull you back in their arms so this parting wouldn't hurt as much. Their watch ticked again and like any other meetings, they didn't have time. 

Hange sighed, squeezing your hand and letting it go as they stepped back. "I'm sorry, Y/N. We'll talk about this when I get back."

Your eyes welled with tears as their footsteps grew fainter from where you stood frozen. You tried to walk away silently but the sound of their train leaving clutched you in an urge to scream. 

-

Maybe Hange was right that being in an official relationship wasn't any better.  I have to grow up, you told yourself. Hange has this mature view of things that smothers their imaginative side. Their decisions felt like the safest yet most terrible ones you couldn't wrap your heart around. You grew up knowing that things you want would materialize the moment you wished for them. It contrasts all the harsh experiences Hange had outside the walls all those years ago, not only fighting titans but the corrupt humans themselves. This isn't a fairy tale, Y/N, your mind spoke in Hange's voice. 

But you want to stop longing, to await for a love that does not dither, for a piece of commitment you could hold onto each time you wait for Hange to come back. Just the slightest verbal evidence that you're the person they come to as a lover. But your attempt to get their heart in your care failed once again. 

Maybe you were never their lover. You're just another one of those women they invited over for a fortnight of pleasure. You just happen to last long enough because they weren't tired of you just yet. You scoffed to yourself, pouring yourself another drink later that night day when Hange left. They should be getting on the ship as of this time based on your estimate. Another few weeks of not seeing each other, but this time parting with such bitter words. 

I hate you. 

Did you truly mean it? Maybe you hate their choice, but not them. Or perhaps it was irritating how much you cannot fully place hate on their name even if you tried.

You drank the bottle of wine to the last droplet, mind considering a visit to your father's headquarters early that morning. 

-

Not long ago, you earned a temporary job in the headquarters as an excuse to see Hange. It was rather tedious but you're not aversed about reading lengthy reports and sorting them when you could always meet the Commander afterwards. But with Hange's absence, the papers were getting more difficult to bear that you had to avert your eyes from the pile for at least an hour. 

However, you left the room later on, remembering you shouldn't have to bear with such things when you have a privilege placed on your name. You could always pay that kind soldier trying to help you out. But later that noon, he won't accept monetary payment, but rather a chance to take you out on a drink until night. 

Perhaps it wasn't such a bad offer since you needed a drink yourself. A splash of alcohol might hopefully erase Hange's face from your mind. You haven't even written a single letter since they left and planned to keep it that way. 

The bar where soldiers of low ranks weren't as sophisticated, and the cheap drinks tasted unique. Your first drink burned your throat but you were too thrilled by the new environment to even protest. You tried to imagine Hange in place of the guy next to you. Hange would have looked at you in amusement, maybe even tried to down a bottle to show you a glimpse of their previous life before they became Commander. 

But that daydream blurs and vanishes into a tasteless reality as you down a few drinks. This place only reminded you of Hange's absence, an environment far too cruel for you to bear. It was clear that you wanted to leave the bar and cut that night short. The man who brought you here has been a help in your tipsy state, and much to your distaste, he began a shaky confession of why he brought you here. 

His hands were cold when they met yours, you wanted to roll your eyes at how he was trying to meet your eyes. You're beautiful, you're friendly enough. I always see you frequent the headquarters. 

Shallow confessions, you thought to yourself, and yet it all sounds tempting especially now that the alcohol was kicking in. 

You tried to kiss him mid-sentence, tasting the cheap beer on both of your lips. His lips felt strange, unfamiliar, and almost cold from the air outside. You retracted almost immediately, the tempting whispers of the alcohol in your system diminished all at once. It was a terrible kiss and it will never feel good when your lips keep searching for Hange's sweet and loving ones. 

You're not one to toy with other people's feelings but the kiss stirred and hazed your mind back to soberness that you ran away into the frigid night. You tried to wash away the taste with another glass of wine when you got home but the feeling of betrayal lingered.

But then again, it wouldn't be a betrayal to Hange because you were never theirs. They've made it clear a few more times than enough. 

We can't do this now. There wasn't an ‘us’ to begin with. 

Later that midnight, you tried writing several letters addressed to Hange but none felt right. All ended up in a discarded pile beside your bed, your inked hands unwashed as the alcohol inched you closer to slumber. 

-

Returning to Paradis without you in sight made the morning all the more bitter for Hange. Not a letter from you, nor an answer for all the letters they sent while they were away. They remember the hatred laced with your words the last time you saw one another. 

Against all the bitterness nestled within them, they remained wishing that you never meant your words. 

Later that afternoon in the headquarters, they wanted to come to you but decided against it at the last minute. They need a few hours to themselves. Maybe for sleep or other things. However, Hange cannot sleep now that their mind is occupied not just by the pressing issues in the military, but also by you. 

They thought of your sweet, blushing face in their hands whenever they kiss you, or how you make a seat for yourself in their lap whenever you're in the mood to be playful, but above all that, they longed to feel you after such a tedious time away. Their mind was plagued with questions of where you were and what had happened while they were gone. Do you still resent them? 

However, their questions were beginning to be answered in such an unlikely manner when they overheard a conversation among soldiers drinking at work. The Commander wanted to burst in and admonish them for misbehavior when they heard your name being spoken along degrading words. A slut. A woman easily persuaded by an invitation to drink. Hange proceeded to listen, fists clenched as the soldier you kissed not even a week ago decided to warp his story of rejection to your disadvantage.

Hange glanced at these soldiers, remembering the names and faces they would subject to grueling military work later that day. They forgot their tiredness and went out of the headquarters to look for you.

-

Hange didn't want to believe that man's words. They placed their trust in you to that extent. However, their reasoning shattered when they heard it from your mouth. 

You resent them because seeing them makes your heart ache. You wished to hurt them the way they did when they broke your heart. 

 "I was never yours, Hange. You've made that clear several times so why bother to snoop around to what I'm up to?" you glared at them when they stood blocking the way out of your room. 

"Are you telling me these things because you're bored of me and wish to have a new plaything, or is this your petty attempt to make me mad?" Hange gave you a tired glare, arms crossed over their chest. They were too exhausted to deal with your temper at that moment and wished for a more civilized conversation. 

Your brows rose from their claim and said, "I'm not one to find playthings, and toy with them until I'm satisfied. Maybe you should look at yourself, Hange."

Your attempt to storm out of the room was interrupted when Hange caught your arm and brought you back to face them. "You think I'm toying with you?" Their tone only indicated that you managed to anger them with that statement. 

"What am I supposed to think when we only met several times just to fuck each other and yet you seem revolted by the idea of even calling me your lover?" you jabbed a finger on their chest, your tears more unbridled than that of your last meeting. "Was it easier to dedicate your life protecting a hopeless, godforsaken land than loving me?" 

Your claims were making Hange snap but they couldn't let themself lose control now. 

"You misunderstood me entirely," they muttered as if speaking any louder would prompt them to break. "And don't you dare call Paradis hopeless. You know nothing about it."

"You think so low of me, don't you? You think I'm too stupid to know what's happening here?" you argued, hastily wiping your tears so they wouldn't blur your vision. "It's obvious we don't understand each other. Maybe it's better if we stop all of this entirely."

Their grip on your arm tightened unconsciously. "You don't mean that," they scoffed. 

"Don't challenge me, Hange. You must be a fool if you think I can't replace you," you said coldly, earning a glare from them. Hange couldn't hold themself any longer, the frustration from work coupled with your behavior towards them irritates them further. 

They swiftly locked the door and pulled you towards them, arms circled tightly on your waist. Their face was centimeters away from you, their warm breath brushing against your lips, "This is not what I'm expecting when I come back here, Y/N. You're such a clever girl so you must know what I'm feeling right now."

Their hand went to the back of your head, lips touching yours as they whispered, "I'm so damn fed up and not just that..."

Hange dragged you back to your bed, forcing you to sit down. Their silent aggressiveness scared you when they slowly pressed their body against yours, their frame caging you firmly like one would do to a prey. Your legs dangled over the edge as their knees pressed on your sides. The bruising kisses they gave dug into your skin, almost like Hange was trying to tear the soft surface apart until you bled. 

"Hange, not here," you hissed, pushing on their shoulders. They groaned on your neck and gathered your wrists over your head.

"Don't act like this is the first time I fucked you here," they retorted, completing the cruel necklace of love bites surrounding your neck. Hange rolled up your skirt to your waist, their other hand pushing at the back of your thigh so you would lay open for them. 

"My father's at home, you asshole."

"I don't care," they replied almost immediately. "Let your father hear us. Let him know I'm already defiling you so he'd force me to marry you. After all, that's what you want, right?" 

"You twist my words," you argued. 

"I'm just learning from you," Hange muttered, their desperate lips now kissing on your chest. Hange could feel that your wrists were starting to relax on their grip. "Do you know how much irritates me when you think I don't love you?" 

"Maybe you should ask yourself why I think that way," you shot back. 

"If I'm so terrible in your mind then let me prove you otherwise," Hange told you like a firm promise, letting go of your hand to undo your clothes to the last button. Their hand kneaded on your waist, finding their way to settle on your breasts. 

You hated how much your body leaned into their warmth, of how you let yourself become so vulnerable and bare in their eyes. Your resentment felt so shallow when you fall apart every time their hands touched you.

Hange breathed onto your neck, their hand passionately locked around yours while the other glided over your folds. You gave their neck the same treatment from earlier as you left bruising kisses on their skin, making sure that their subordinates will see through the marks even with their uniform. 

Hange kept your moans muffled with their mouth, their usual loving whispers gone and replaced by a desperateness to have you, to make you come all over their hands once more. Your fingers gripped and dug into their uniform, the coil on your stomach tightening with each thrust. 

"Hange..." you whispered their name and repeated it like a fervent prayer as their lips never left your body. You clamped a hand over your mouth as your hips rocked against their fingers.

"Louder, sweetheart. You want people downstairs to hear you, right?" Hange smirked, their lips and thrusts both deepening as if in punishment for the moans you were trying to muffle. They tore your hand from your mouth and bit on your skin, earning a whimper from you.

You desperately closed your legs in between their hands but Hange only pulled them farther apart.

Come again for me, sweetheart, they would whisper, and you would collapse onto them over and over again the way rocks gently wear away against the crashing of waves.

Hange pulled their calloused fingers from your dripping cunt, groaning when they felt your teeth biting them again once more.

You wrapped a leg around them, shifting your body weight so you could straddle them. Hange felt your hands ripping at the zipper of their pants, the button securing the band disconnecting from the fabric.

 "Ease down, Y/N, damnit," they grunted as you strip off their button in haste. You bite on their lip as you kiss, letting them know you're in no mood to be gentle nor loving like you always used to. Your passion was coarse and carnal, grating through their flesh. Your hands found their underwear, slipping it off their legs without letting them say a thing.

You balled the fabric into a loose gag before stuffing it on their mouth. Your lips curled into a smirk before kissing their forehead, saying,  "You talk too much, Commander, it’s irritating. So you better keep that on until I'm done with you."

Hange groaned softly, patiently watching you settle in between their thighs. Your eyes bored onto theirs as the soft pad of your thumb circled their clit. Their hands found your hair, gripping onto them the moment your tongue glided along their slit. Hange whined at how torturously slow you used your tongue, getting them to the edge and pulling away when they needed it most.

Hange kept their mouth stuffed as you wished but proceeded to brutally use your mouth later on in accord with their liking.

"That's right, put your mouth to good use," they grunted, spitting out the gag later on, their inner thighs pressing on your head as their cum smeared your lips and chin. They delivered a wet, warm kiss on your lips, fingers resting on your chin as they said, "That's a lot better than arguing with me, don't you think?"

You groaned at that remark, yet your stamina was too depleted to protest when they're shifting you into another position. 

"I'm tired, Hange," you mumbled. 

"And I'm not, Y/N," they answered back, lifting your leg so they could settle in between. "I'll stop once you cease this bullshit with me, and handle your temper so we could talk."

"You wish," you rolled your eyes. 

Their hand circled around your throat as they inch closer to your face and spoke, "Then shut your mouth and take it."

Hange pushed your legs further, your soaked entrances meeting. Hange groaned as they felt the friction building up close to their pelvic region. They gave your throat a light squeeze as their hips moved against yours. You pulled onto their collar for a kiss, distracting both of you from how the bed creaks just by your movements escalating to roughness. 

Your intimacy was full of marks, of bites that drew blood. Your bodies moved in such a way where a stronger emotion could be felt other than desire. Perhaps it was longing, or an immense unresolved yearning of two hearts who could only find understanding through the flesh. 

Hange's lips trembled against yours as they came, their grip loosening so their hands could trail along your back. They placed a band of love bites that turned to purplish bruises, their tongue licking along the ones that managed to bleed. It took a while before your breathing stabilized enough.

Hange untangled their body from you and dressed up silently a few minutes later, mumbling about how it was getting too late, that it would be suspicious for them to stay. You're too tired to sulk as you shift your body to turn against them, finding comfort from the warm sheet encasing your body. Fine, just go, you wanted to mutter in defeat. 

However, Hange walked over to you, kneeling down so they could meet your eyes once more. They tucked the stray hair from your face as they spoke, "I'll talk to your father first thing in the morning."

You were alerted, brows creasing as your eyes tried to scan their intentions. "For what?" 

"Well," Hange sighed softly, playing on the loose strands on your face. "You have quite a traditional family so I'll formally talk to your father about us. I hope to merit a positive response."

"But I thought you don't want a committed relationship with me..."

"I know I told you that several times before," Hange traced a thumb over your cheek. "Truly it scares me because I know what I'm like. I can't give you all my attention, Y/N, and I don't want that to hurt you. But I've hurt you several times already because of my refusal. My fear is not worth breaking your heart over."

Their solemn gaze met yours, and you could feel another layer wearing away from them. Another vulnerability they're willing to hand over to you. You couldn't have guessed that they would bare their heart this way.

"Hange..."  There are things you wanted to say but couldn't find one where you could subdue your intense, profound appreciation. Your hand went to their cheek, gathering their warm skin onto your hand. 

"Y/N, you deserve more than I could give you. I can't promise to be everything you wished for. And perhaps it scares me terribly that you'll end up hating me for it," Hange continued, their gaze softening. "But I'll try, alright?" 

"Alright," you smiled, absentmindedly fixing their collar and tugging on it as a subtle plea. "Could you... stay for a bit longer?" 

Hange's responsibilities await like an undesirable visitor at their desk, waiting for them to get through their office door and pounce upon them. It thins their energy and will, a fuse burned into blackness within their heart. Staying with you would only create another opportunity for work to pile up higher, and yet, they couldn't find the heart to refuse. They felt like a charred, pitiful wick that once burned brightly. Your loving embrace, and intoxicating touch, your insistent love they cannot shut down for much longer— all made them forget their inanition and diminished vigor within.

"Of course I can stay," Hange smiled before letting themself sink back into your embrace, drowning themself into your depth until they couldn't breathe. 

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

[inkblot22]

Give You Something To Cry About

Yay, my time management skills continue to be straight ass. Sorry to the anon who has waited so patiently for this, and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write this depraved ball of snot. Headers by @/cafekitsune. Also don't believe everything you see on the internet, there's no scientific proof that certain things work for your skin. I think Vil would know that, considering.

This Fic Is For: Anyone who can handle it! Once again, I tried to make it as gn as possible, considering Rook's use of Franglais, but I'm delusional and will say I did exactly that. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, and no real allusions to specific body parts are made for them.

TW for DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, forced dieting, non/dubcon, mentions of death, questionable use of magic, captivity, someone has a case of dacryphilia and a strong sadist streak, won't say who, Rook Hunt because he freaks me out, unhealthy relationship dynamics, abuse, forced BDSM if you squint, I feel so bad for the reader in this one, toxic relationships, possibly OOC characters.

“I am not going to tell you again, my love.” Vil bends down to get in your face, already wearing his ceremonial robe and heels. He points a finger in your face, like you’re a small child or a dog, “If you continue to pick at your skin, I am going to let Rook punish you this time.”

You swallow and look away, and Vil pinches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling your head so you’re looking at him again. His violet eyes bore into you, and you swallow again.

He looks offended, almost, “Well? Have you forgotten basic manners? Speak.”

Your voice sounds dry and weak, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

He seems satisfied enough with that, moving around as he continues to prepare for whatever school-wide assembly is happening today. He elegantly tucks his hair behind his ear and sighs, scrolling through some page on his phone.

You remain standing where you are, turning your head to look out the window. It’s so pretty outside, but you only get to leave this room whenever Rook is watching you or Vil sends you on an errand. It’s always spring, never too hot, never too cold, but you’re sweating anyway.

Vil approaches you again and tilts your face back so you’re looking at him with a hand on your cheek. His eyes narrow a fraction.

“Your skin doesn’t seem to like this foundation. Make sure you discard it today; I’ll get you a new one.” He bends down again, this time to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He rubs his own together after pulling away and smudges his thumb over your bottom lip, “Hmm. What lipgloss is this?”

Your voice doesn’t sound so dry, but it still doesn’t sound like you, “Uh… The dark red one with the metallic purple? ‘Electric Berry’?

He’s silent for a second, just staring down at your lips as he cups your chin, and then he sighs and turns away, “It’s sticky. I’d tell you to wash your face and reapply your makeup, but that’d be a waste. Make sure you put on lip balm next time.”

You swallow, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

“I have to get going now. You’d better be at least halfway done with that list by the time I return.” He breezes towards the door and gives you a last, long look. He’s completely silent before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Your palms ache. You stiltedly wander towards the list pinned in the closet, glad to see it’s not insane today. All you need to do is tidy the bathroom and skim through Vil’s mail to see if it’s anything but hate mail or advertisements. Tack on getting rid of that foundation and that’s it, at least until he returns at lunch.

You relished this time to yourself, even if it was just cleaning or whatever else. Vil always said that motion is good for you, a structure does the mind good. You didn’t care much anymore. As you sat down to search through his mail, finding nothing but the usual hate mail and what appears to be a poem from Rook (why did he even mail that? He’s not even down the hall from this room,) you catch yourself craving something sweet.

The diet Vil has you on sucks. He has assured you that your body is lovely, and he is having you eat like this to help clear your skin, but really you just want something. Anything, you’d even take a breath mint over this lack of junk food. You’re young, what young person doesn’t enjoy gratuitously unhealthy food? A basket of french fries? Ice cream? 

You frown to yourself and toss the last of the mail into the recycle bin. You know he’s just going to check it over again anyway, but at least you’re moving around. That’s what he would say.

By the time you’re almost done scrubbing the tub, you hear the door open. You don’t want to go greet him, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything and keep cleaning, making sure to disinfect the non-slip mat that resembles a bunch of ugly gems glued together. 

You hear him clicking towards you, and his hand rests on your shoulder, “Going above and beyond today? I have lunch, come eat.”

You school your expression and stand up, pulling off your cleaning gloves and hanging them on the rim of the tub before you follow Vil. He ensconces himself in his desk chair, leaving you to awkwardly lift the stool near his vanity. He hates it when you push the furniture.

He clucks his tongue, not even looking at you, “Lift with your knees, darling. As much as I’d love to massage your back if you pull something, I simply don’t have the time.”

You can’t help it. You shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster as you lift with your knees, right as his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nearly drop the chair as his lips curl into a cold smirk.

“Do you have something to say?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, Vil-”

“Then don’t allow me to see that expression on your face again.” He bites, “Come sit down.”

You put the stool down a little harder than you mean to and take a seat beside Vil at his desk. He passes you your nice little container containing one of several things he gets you- a pile of leafy greens and chopped veggies on a bed of quinoa, fresh fruit, and a murky green smoothie topped with chia seeds.

 You don’t like chia seeds. They remind you of frog eggs- a bunch of slimy lumps, sliding down your throat. You accept the straw Vil passes to you and stir the smoothie before eating in silence.

Vil doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him for feeding you. Since he’s keeping you here, it’s pretty much the least he could do. Still, it doesn’t make up for hearing about his boring day.

“This morning’s assembly was complete and utter chaos, as usual.” He muses, sipping his own smoothie. It’s a soft purple. “It’s ridiculous. Those brutes never wear their robes correctly.”

You don’t respond. There’s two reasons: first of all, you don’t care, and secondly, there’s a knock at the door. Vil hums, as though he’s been waiting for someone, and turns to face the door.

“Who is it?”

That boisterous voice you are so used to hearing echoes past the door, “‘Tis I, Roi du Poison. I have come to join you for lunch.”

You can hear the smile in Vil’s voice, “Oh, of course. Come in.”

As Rook walks in, you feel a stab of jealousy in your chest. He takes a breezy seat on the loveseat in front of Vil’s bed and glances at you. You break eye contact and dully pick at your salad.

Vil treats Rook so nicely. He considers his feelings and opinions, although he doesn’t always listen. He speaks to him as though he’s a person. You suppose Vil’s obvious care for Rook trickles down to you in some capacity, but it hurts. Vil claims that the two of you are lovers, but really you’re more like a doll.

“Do you mind meeting me in the lab later on, Rook?”

Rook chuckles from where he is and you cast another glance at him. His eyes meet yours, again, and you look away, again.

“I can always make time for you, beautiful Vil.”

You lamely pick at the fruit, having finished the salad, before you decide to save it for last. You take a sip of your smoothie after stirring it again and openly recoil, trying not to cough. You didn’t smell it, but there must be ginger in there, because there’s a mellow burn alongside the bitterness from the kale. It makes your eyes water and settles in behind your nose.

“Mmm. Something wrong?” Vil smiles at you.

You shake your head, blinking rapidly so you don’t start crying. There’s not enough tears to fall, but taking your chances is stupid, “No, Vil. The ginger just caught me off guard.”

“Oh. My apologies, I should have warned you. I don’t want you catching a cold, and you’ve been a little irregular. The smoothie also has spinach, kale, avocado, chia seeds, and, of course, a little mango.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, taking another sip and soldiering past the rush of that aromatic pain in your sinuses. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Vil turns away from you to speak to Rook again, “What else did you have planned?”

“I thought I might take a walk. It is a wonderful day, non?” There’s a slight mocking tone to Rook’s voice, “Hardly the type of day to be cooped up all day, hmm?”

Vil furrows his eyebrows as you choke down the last of the smoothie. His voice is curt, “You can say what you mean.”

“Est-ce que je peux? You are not very open to suggestion.”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, taking a deep sip of his smoothie before he places it on the coaster sitting upon his desk. He uncrosses his long legs and stands, walking over to sit with Rook on the loveseat. Rook watches him approach with a smile, the same pleasant one he usually wears before he shoots you a beaming grin and turns to look at Vil.

Their conversation is hushed, and you can’t really make out all of what they say. You can hear someone say your name, Vil’s tone swiftly turns vitriolic, then sweetens once more, and Rook chuckles under his breath. When their little meeting is over, Vil walks back over and finishes his smoothie before petting your head like you’re some kind of cat.

His hand strokes the crown of your head, then smooths over your cheek, he cups your jaw and thumbs over the swell of your lip, all while staring at you with a look you cannot read. And then he tilts his head, and smiles.

“Make sure you thank Rook. And you mistook a letter from my father as garbage.”

“Yes, Vil.” You reply obediently, “Sorry, Vil.”

He smiles. Your palms ache, and you have to bite back the urge to move, to peel at your cuticles or scratch the sides of your fingers.

“I’ll see you in class, Rook.” Vil says politely before he tilts your face up and pecks you on the lips.

You’re left alone with Rook. He doesn’t get up, not yet. You remain where you are, looking at your slippers. You hear Rook stand up and discard his garbage. You can feel him come up to stand behind you. 

“Has today been particulièrement difficile? My poor dear… You seem so sad today.” His arms wrap around you, looping them around your shoulders so they warm your collarbones like a scarf and he can rest his cheek against the back of your head. You hear him take a deep breath in.

With Vil, you don’t even try to speak anymore. You know he won’t really listen to you, because he knows better than you… But with Rook, as long as you wait a moment to make sure he is done speaking, he welcomes and even encourages you to speak your mind.

Your breath hitches and you swallow, “Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just having a bad day. It’s really been the same as usual.”

“Hmm.” Rook hums, completely devoid of emotion. You feel him turn his face so his nose is buried in your hair. He presses a kiss against your hair and sighs, “Ah, yes, the monotony of life is très épuisant, mmm?”

You wait for a second, then deliberately don’t answer the question in favor of asking your own, “Um, he said I should thank you?”

“Perhaps you should ask why more clearly. I have convinced our very own Vil to allow me to arrange a surprise for you.” Rook removes himself from your back and turns you around to face him, “And thus, I believe I have earned a kiss from you.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t get time to really back away or tell him to explain, as Rook squishes your cheeks with one of his gloved hands until your lips part.

His grip isn’t as harsh as Vil’s, but this is still something that only happens when you’re in more trouble than usual, so you involuntarily wince and close your eyes, cowering away from Rook as he dips his tongue into your mouth and slithers it between your teeth.

It is very easy to like Rook. He is passionate, and he’s far more kind to you than your supposed lover is. He’s intelligent and has an adonis-like form, and if not for the taste of blood on his tongue from whatever he ate for lunch or the grip he has on your face, maybe you would enjoy this kiss. But the big issue is that Rook honestly frightens you a little.

It’s absolutely not his fault, not entirely. Upon first meeting him, it was hard to tell if he was being genuine. He’s difficult to read, as he is often wearing the same set of expressions and his tone is always a bit melodramatic.

His hand releases your face to clamp around the base of your head, his tongue twisting in your mouth, pressing against the crevices in your teeth.

Not only is Rook hard to read, he is also uncannily observant and will not hesitate to ask somewhat invasive questions about his observations. The fact that he dresses in a way that conceals his mass is also disconcerting, as you were unaware that he had such a build until you saw him roll up his sleeve one time. You were aware Vil could do a lot of damage, but that was the day you realized that Rook was capable of doing about as much as Vil, if not more.

He purrs into your mouth, the vibrations feeling oh-so-wrong, and his other hand clamps down on your shoulder. He sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s not a good feeling, as he is literally stealing what little air is in your mouth. When you feel something feather light flutter against your lashes and cheek, you feel a bit confused for just a moment, not even a second, before you realize that Rook just blinked. His eyes are open. 

He pulls away and sighs, almost dreamily. You suppress your distressed sputtering, holding your breath as Rook stares at you.

“Ah, enough time has passed. I will need to leave you, mon lapin. Thank you for indulging me; your kiss was divine and tasted sweeter than the finest fruits!” He presses something into your palm and adjusts his hat before he casts you a wave and shuts the door.

You stand there, your lips drying out from the saliva left on them and your cheeks feeling a little odd from the way he was holding your face. You’re processing, because, ever as always, Rook is simulated spontaneity. So many things just happened, and you don’t… 

You blink a few times and look down at your aching palm stupidly. The crimson cellophane crinkles as you unclench your fist. He gave you a piece of candy.

Just looking at it makes you start crying. One second you’re staring wide-eyed at the little lump of sugar, and the next your vision is blurring and you’re crying off your makeup, plump tears cascading down your face. Your nose begins to run and you sniffle. You can’t find it in yourself to sob, because you’re mostly certain that these are happy tears. 

Unfortunately, you can’t eat the candy now. If you threw the wrapper away, Vil would notice it in the garbage and you’d get in trouble for “breaking your diet plan.” So you hide it in the very back corner of the drawer of Vil’s armoire. You’ll be tidying it on your own anyway, and Vil never reaches all the way into the back of it.

Once your tears have stopped, you stand up and go back to cleaning the bathroom. It’s spotless and smells like lavender and lemons about an hour before Vil gets back, so you decide to skim one of the books on the shelves. 

It’s not long before you’re bored with that as well. You carefully put the book back and wander over to the lattice window, staring out of it. The window, paired with your usual low mood, made you sort of feel like a bird in a very ornate cage. 

From where you are, about three stories up, you notice a familiar figure notching an arrow before he unnotches it and takes a knee. You blandly spectate as he fiddles with the bow.

Partway through him notching the arrow again, you see his hat tilt. He’s far away enough that you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel his stare. His gloved hand bends his brim and you jerk away from the window, only to bump into someone.

You don’t get to shriek, as a hand clamps over your mouth. It’s just Vil, but you don’t relax yet as he drags you towards the bed and deposits you there.

“How many times must I tell you to stay away from the window?”

He’s never once told you to stay away from the window. Not as far as you can recall, at least. Your lips tremble and you decide it’d be more wise to keep silent.

Vil glares down at you and you feel the rest of your body start to tremble. His lips curl into a displeased sneer, “You didn’t wash your face after crying?”

“N-no, Vil-”

“We do not stutter.” Vil hisses, bending to get in your face. He stares at you for a moment before standing straight again, “Speak up.”

You swallow and clench your hands into fists, “No… Vil. I… got rid of the foundation like you, um… asked me to. I wouldn’t have been able to redo-”

“Alright. Go wash your face.” Vil interrupts you again.

You jump up and rush into the bathroom, going through your skincare routine. You can feel Vil staring at you, your skin crawling under his gaze. As you rub moisturizer into your skin, Vil finally says something.

“Did Rook do something to you, darling?” His tone is soft, tentative.

You glance at him, blinking a few times. What does he mean by ‘something’? He did do something, but it wasn’t bad, or particularly different.

“Um… Not exactly.” You say, massaging your forehead.

“I see. What did he do?” 

You look down at the sink. You’re not saying anything about the candy. “Rook kissed me?”

“That should not be a question.” Vil says. You see him shake his head through your peripheral, “Would you like to change your clothes before I redo your makeup?”

You’d like to ask what he’s talking about, but instead, you look down at your clothing. You don’t have a proper Pomefiore uniform because you’re not a part of this dorm. You’re an interloper- or a caged bird.

You don’t know what to do here. You don’t want to say something wrong and unintentionally offend Vil. Your palms ache. You give him a confused look from where you are.

He doesn’t look impressed, but before he can say anything about you gaping at him, you speak up, “What… am I supposed to do?”

You’ve only seen Vil surprised a few times. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads, then sighs, “Well, I suppose I’d like to see you in something else. I’ll choose your outfit.”

That’s nothing new, he always does that. You wait in the bathroom for him to return. He strolls back in with a mockery of the Pomefiore uniform. There’s a deep purple cloak and capelet, which Vil drapes on the bed before handing you the actual clothes. It’s a very ruffled dress shirt, the long, puffy sleeves cinched into more ruffles at the wrist paired with a pair of black bloomer-style shorts. The buttons are all white and gold, marbled together. 

Vil leaves the bathroom and you change, neatly tucking your previous clothing away in the hamper. When you leave, as usual, Vil picks at your clothing, making sure it looks as good on you as he pleases, and then he steers you to sit down.

For however vicious he can be, Vil can be oddly gentle. For every time he grabs you roughly, his touch is feather-light ten more times. He hums a soft tune as he puts light makeup on you, just your eyes and lips, and then he drapes the cloak around your shoulders and places his hands on his hips.

“You look lovely. Go put on the pair of gold boots with the black decals.”

You do as told. He very likely wants to just take pictures of you or something so he can ask that Mira app about it.

Except when you stop in front of him, he doesn’t tell you to go sit in the loveseat or on the table near his window, no, he scoops you up and presses his forehead against your jaw.

“Oh, when did you put on this cologne? What a ravishing smell on you.” He presses a kiss on the column of your throat and breezes out of his dorm room's door.

Almost immediately, you go limp in his arms, like a doll. He never gave you explicit verbal permission to leave this room, so the curse he placed on you when he decided you should be his smashes into you like a giant wave at the beach.

Vil carries you all the way outside and looks at your face, then happily struts along the path behind the dorm. Since you can’t turn your head, you can only go off of the view of Vil’s neck and chin, the sky, and whatever you can hear.

“Ah, I am glad to see you did not change your mind, Roi du Poison. J'aurais été très déçue et triste pour notre chéri.” You hear Rook say. 

You can almost feel Vil get a mite warmer, “Yes, well. Hand me the basket. Since you want to make out with them and make them cry, you get to carry them as an apology.”

Rook happily scoops you out of Vil’s arms, giving you a cloying look as he strolls along. He and Vil chat as they walk, something not really worth listening in on, just boring musings about class and “this teacher did x” or “that student did y”. An insect lands on your cheek and you are incapable of batting it away or expressing your discomfort. Its legs tickle the peach fuzz on your face and you remain still, like a corpse.

Rook slides you into a seated position, posing you like a toy before shooing the bug off of your face. Now you can see that you’re in a clearing in the woods, seated on a picnic blanket. There’s a few lanterns staked into the ground, and Rook and Vil are busy with whatever is on the floor. You can’t look down, so your best guess is that it’s a picnic.

Vil leans over and snaps in your face, smiling kindly at you, “Now. If I release you, you are not going to run. You are not going to so much as consider running. We are going to have a nice picnic with no shenanigans from you.”

You can’t nod, so you just stare at him, trying to telepathically communicate.

He looks pleased enough, “Wonderful. I give you permission to leave our room.”

Your muscles relax and you look back, finding that you’re leaned against a log. The picnic spread is very nice, as well. It looks like finger sandwiches. You’re not expecting to get to eat one, as you haven’t had bread since Vil switched up your diet. Vil passes something to you.

“Oh.” You mumble, staring at the plate Vil hands you. 

It’s a sandwich. A very wonderful looking sandwich, cut into triangles and with the crusts still on. You blink at it a few times and look back up at Vil.

“Don’t expect this to be a pattern. This is a treat for good behavior.”

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

“There’s no need to remind them. They’re being obedient.” Rook’s voice is more firm than you expected to hear him ever speak. Usually his tone is buoyant, and you’ve never seen him outright pick a fight with Vil like this.

“Please. You give anyone an inch, they’ll take a mile.” Vil cuts back, then turns to you and pets your head like a dog or a cat again, “Eat your food, beautiful.”

You take a bite. Bread is just as good as you remember it. The air feels thick, like you’re in a bubble as Vil and Rook communicate through eye contact alone. Before you know it, your sandwich is gone and your hands are covered in crumbs. Rook, still staring at Vil with that happy little smile, wipes your hands and places a glass in your hands. Whatever is in it smells sweet. You take a tentative sip.

Were it Vil, you would have never drank whatever this is. It kind of tastes like a mellow mixed berry juice. It’s very pleasant, actually. Better than the potion Vil used to lace your food and drinks with. You smile into the cup and Vil snatches it from you.

He takes a sip and frowns, handing it back, “Mmm. I have an even better surprise.”

Rook pulls your legs into his lap and gently kneads your calves as you watch Vil rifle through the picnic basket. What is happening? You sip your juice and Vil produces a triangular container. He places a fork on top and hands it to you.

You finish the last of your juice and accept the box, looking conspiratorially at Rook. Something you can’t put your finger on dances in his eyes and he digs his thumb into your shin a little strongly. You flinch and cautiously open the box. It’s a piece of fluffy white cake, with even fluffier meringue and an uncannily perfect cherry wedged into it.

You look at Vil, expecting some kind of trick. Not that he’s ever done that before, usually he’d just take it from you or make some snide comment, things like that, but he and Rook are acting really strange today, 

“I know how much you long for junk food, so I spent some time after club activities today whipping up some angel food cake. It’s got agave instead of sugar so it won’t completely break your diet and your skin won’t suffer as much.”

Yeah, this is weird. The cake is good, though, it’s fluffy and sweet. You pace your bites so that Vil won’t make a comment and you can savor this. You can feel both of their eyes on you and it makes your skin crawl.

You lower the cake box and look at Vil, who looks a bit offended for just a second. The fleeting expression is replaced by a pleased little grin, the mauve lipstick making the curve of his lips all the more sinister in the dimming light.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, Vil.” You glance at the cake and then back at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Why?” Rook asks.

Your shoulders jerk as you turn your head to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to say anything. His chest swells in what appears to be a suppressed chuckle as he squeezes your knee. It seems his hands have climbed.

“Uh…” You swallow, “This is just… not what I’m used to.”

“The cake?” Vil looks hurt. Why does he look hurt?

You shake your head rapidly, “No! Oh- No, Vil. I… It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here…”

“Do you want to go inside, chéri?” Rook murmurs.

You do, but you also don’t really want to risk sounding ungrateful. Being outside has stressed you out more than you’d like to admit. You’re not really sure what to do because Vil has you trained like a dog, and none of what he’s hammered into you involves picnics. You’re scared.

Rooks eyes narrow as you just stare at him. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is throbbing, and on the other side of you, Vil sighs.

“Well, I’ll start cleaning up, then. When we get back, I expect you to take a seat on the bed.”

That sounds like what happens every time you get in trouble. A terror shudders through you and your eyes water a bit as you gnaw on your lip. Your palms ache as you fight to keep from picking at your cuticles. Vil packs up everything and Rook offers you a princely hand to help you up.

You can feel the calluses on his hands through his gloves as he essentially lifts you to your feet. You keep between Rook and Vil as you walk back to the dorm.

It’s quiet, since everyone else is winding down for bed. For a moment, you think you spot Epel, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway. None of your old friends talk to you anymore. Not since Vil started having eyes for you.

Just as you were told, after taking off your boots you take a seat on the bed and retrieve the silver ruler from the side-table’s drawer. You place it beside you as you look down at your feet. You look down at the streaky bruises on the lighter skin on your palms and try not to start crying. It’s always worse when you cry.

He adds smacks by twos. Depending on what you did, you start with four or six, and then any time you flinch or pull away or make a loud noise, he adds two more. Last time, you spilled one of his nail polishes, and after watching you clean it up, you ended up getting ten lashes.

At least Rook didn’t do it then. He tries to make it quick but that just makes it hurt more. A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even know what you did. You tap the tear track dry with one fingertip and Vil and Rook fully enter the room.

“Why is the ruler out?” Vil asks, and then his voice goes sharp, “Are you crying?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

“I don’t know why.” He grabs the ruler and shoves it away before you can raise your hands, “Go wash your face.”

You stand up and shakily do as told, returning to sit on the bed. Vil goes into the bathroom after you and Rook takes a seat next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

He smiles at you, rubbing your shoulder, “You are très précieux, chéri.”

You look at him in a state of hollow bewilderment as he brushes his cheek against yours and presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear.

You hear the bathroom door close and a tired sigh from Vil, “Do you have no patience?”

Your head jerks to look at VIl, “Rook is…?”

“Yes, he’s joining us tonight.” Vil plucks the loop of his sleeve from his middle finger and loosens his belt. You get the feeling that the next words he says aren’t for you, “Well, go ahead.”

You feel Rook’s chuckle more than you hear it. With his lips against your neck, his hands begin to slide. The hand on your shoulder rests on the nape of your neck and his other hand slides down to your thigh, then up to your waist. You try not to cringe against his touch, but it’s difficult.

His hand slides down again as he trails his teeth against the back of your ear. His thumb hooks in your pants and starts yanking them down. You outright flinch.

“Wait-”

“Relax, darling.” Vil mumbles, hanging his clothing in the armoire.

You try. You absolutely try. Rook throws your bloomers aside and rests his hand on your lower belly for a moment. He sighs into your ear and reaches up to unclasp your buttons.

You feel stiff. You want to push him away but you can’t move. It’s as though your body is frozen. It’s not due to a curse, so the only possible solution is that you’re quite literally scared stiff. 

He pulls away your shirt and glances at Vil, “Are you prepared?”

“Please.” You can hear the smile on Vil’s lips as Rook turns back and kisses you again, his hand smoothing along your collarbone and shoulders.

Your underwear is the next to go. Of course it is. You fight to keep from breathing oddly, because you’re aware that if you pass out, Vil will get annoyed.

“Mmm.” The devil’s hand glides up your back and you fight back a shudder as Rook leans you backwards into his arms. “How are you feeling, darling?”

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

“I thought you would say that.” Vil freely manhandles you, shifting you so you’re leaned chest to chest. He slides something off of the side table and passes it behind you, then cups your cheek, “You would save a lot of time and stress if you’d just learn to trust me.”

“I…” You hate him. You hate him so much. He keeps you here like a pet, and you don’t know how he’s supposed to expect you to treat him like a lover when he treats you the way he does. 

Before you can articulate an answer that pleases Vil, a wicked burn besets your sphincter and you clench your jaw. 

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

You hear Rook make a noise underneath the harsh sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own heavy panting. Something cool oozes around the ring of your ass and you press your face against Vil’s chest. His robe is lazily tied, which is not particularly like him, and you can see his cock poking out where the fabric separates. You let out a strangled noise and Vil shushes you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Relax. I know, you weren’t prepared. Relax.” Vil soothes.

“I don’t mind if you remain tense, chéri. Mon plaisir n'en est que plus grand. And your little cries and whimpers sont terriblement mignons.” Rook mumbles behind you.

Rook is better than Vil in most areas, but once he gets his dick inside of you, it’s as though he forgets to be caring and kind. The tables flip, with Vil acting the part of a caring lover and Rook becoming a sadistic bully. You let out a ragged sob as Rook rolls his hips and Vil hisses something that you don’t quite catch.

It almost sounded like he was telling Rook to slow down. That very well could have been the case, as Rook eases back a bit and only shallowly thrusts.

Vil continues petting you, coaxing you so your cheek is pressed against his thigh. He is always a perfect warm. He is always perfect, so it sort of makes sense, but his skin is a pleasant temperature. He feels alive, a perfectly human temperature that tells you he’s breathing and his heart is beating. As he fingers through your hair, Rook gives a harsher than usual thrust and you cry out.

“Rook, if you’re impatient then you’re going to hurt them, and neither of us have the time to take care of them all day.” Vil chides, and then his tone softens as he rubs the space between your shoulders, “Are you ready for me as well, darling?” “What…?” You ask, blearily. Somewhere in the back of your awareness, you know what he wants, but you can feel Rook’s thrusts growing impatient and seeing as you weren’t given any prep, you’re in a bit too much shock to think straight.

“Mmm… You’re awfully cute but I need you to be a bit more lucid.” Vil snaps in your ear and resumes his petting, “This isn’t the first time, sweetheart. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The soft tip of his member spreads his pre like lipgloss against your lips. As you shakily open your mouth, you figure you’re lucky that Vil doesn’t have a chaotic, unhealthy diet like Leona or Ace, that he doesn’t drink coffee for fun or often like Deuce does. The taste of his skin is lightly floral and dominantly human, likely thanks to the body lotion he applies daily. 

He hisses and presses against your forehead, “Ah-ah. You’re taking enough from Rook. Just the tip for me is fine.”

From behind, you hear Rook grumble under his breath, “Je n'en peux plus de cette merde…”

“Watch your- unf- watch your language, Rook.” Vil snarls, massaging the nape of your neck as you carefully lave your tongue over his glans.

Rook’s patience breaks, his hands clamping down on your waist, just above your hips. You have the sense to pull Vil’s cock out of your mouth as Rook begins battering into you.

As much as you feel okay about Rook, he is not a doting lover by nature. He’s mean and brutal, chasing his climax, and only after he cums does he bother to think about you or your needs. Your palms ache as you grab Vil’s member and gently tug on it. Vil flinches and snaps at you to get your attention.

You look to the side and for a second, as the pain ebbs, you assume you’re having an out of body experience, and then you realize that you’re staring into his vanity mirror. Rook’s hair exaggeratedly sways with his motion. He removed his hat but just haphazardly displaced the rest of his clothing. He’s not smiling, he’s making some sort of smug expression.

It’s funny. As Vil is satisfied with you weakly jerking him off, his touch gentle, Rook is wild on your other end. Every time you just barely begin to relax, he thrusts harder, which makes you tense and a spike of pain batters through you. 

You endure as best you can. You endure every day, enduring through eating the same unfulfilling food, enduring through walking on eggshells around Vil, enduring getting your palms beaten to hell for the most human of errors, so what’s getting sodomized in the face of everything else you can handle?

You bite back a shriek as a harsh pinch on your bottom, followed by a smack administered by Rook. He leans down and blows in your ear, snickering as he leans back, “I thought you had given up the ghost for a second there.”

Vil sucks in a breath and you quietly mumble against his thigh.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, mon chou.” Rook’s voice is almost mocking, like before.

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll live.” He grunts, the steady clap of your ass against his body punctuating his statement.

“It hurts.” You sniffle. You’re not particularly prone to crying, but, then again, Rook and Vil usually prepare you before deciding to fuck your ass.

You sob and Rook’s grasp tightens on your waist, a ragged moan punching out of his chest. He pulls your body flush to his and jerks his hips into you, drilling a bit harder for all of four or five thrusts. And then he’s no longer on you, and you feel your body getting shifted so your head is still in Vil’s lap but you’re lying prone.

You tilt Vil’s dick down to massage the head with your tongue and something warm drips on your back. You hear a noise of disgust from Vil, capped by a quiet moan.

“Absolutely not. All three of us are getting in the tub if you don’t clean that up right now.”

Rook chuckles and coos, “Hmm, but it looks so lovely. My alabaster essence creates a wonderful contrast with their soft and supple skin.”

A flush of humiliation crawls up the back of your neck and you hide your face against Vil’s belly, using your own arm to hide the other half. Vil shudders as he pushes your head down a bit, but his voice sounds incredulous.

“That’s vile. It doesn’t have any proven health benefits, you know that.”

You felt Rook’s hands spreading his semen into the skin on your back and your palms ache as Vil cums in your mouth. He doesn’t do that often, so it hits you like a shock.

You gag but force it down and Vil shoots up, fretting over you.

“Did you just swallow that?” He bends down to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Vil.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Vil snips, sounding much harsher than he might intend, “I’m going to run us a bath, alright, darling? I’ll make sure you can brush that icky stuff out of your mouth.”

It didn’t taste bad. Vil usually cums on your face as an incentive for you to wash your face very well after a day of wearing makeup, or he has you jerk him off until he cums, but the few other times you did taste it, it was the same as this time. It was mostly salty, not too bitter, likely from his good diet. Regardless, he breezes away and Rook gives your bottom a light tap. You stand up and glance at Rook, who is looking a bit disheveled but pretty pleased with himself.

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

“That hurt.” Your voice is quiet, and your throat is still lined with tears.

“Does it still hurt?” He smiles and tilts his head.

The sound of the tub running is thunderous even where you are. Vil would never tolerate you complaining, but Rook is amicable, “A little.”

“The bath will do you good, then. Come.”

You let Rook guide you into the bathroom, his hand on your elbow. As he undresses and joins Vil on the edge of the tub, you look down at your bruised hands and glance at the slowly closing bathroom door, then at Rook and Vil where they stand near the tub.

You can’t say you prefer either of them, really, but you don't get an opinion. Do dolls at tea parties get to ask for a different kind of tea?

[idyllcy]

and on and on, yeah we got the time

Word count: 1.2k || pt2 of on and on, || art creds: 30backyard (lofter)

summary: dorming is hell, so your boyfriend fixes that obv

"You know, Jay." You raise a brow as he does all of the heavy lifting, sliding your mattress on the ground into your shared bedroom in the new apartment. 

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Oh, god. Did you learn that while reading on ao3 again? Jesus." You grumble. "What I was going to say, though, was that you really... you probably could have called a moving company."

"Listen, lovely." He points. "You have me."

"Yeah, yeah." You sigh. "I love you too, Jay."

"Good, cuz I've seen how many weird fratboys make eyes at you on the daily, and I honestly think some of them need to get beat."

"Not like you couldn't beat them." You pat his shoulder. "Is that it?"

"Should be." He hums. "How do you like our place?"

"Can't wait to have all of my annoying ass textbooks slotted in the bookshelves that you decided were necessary while telling Bruce to remodel."

"Can't wait to have your dissertation plastered on the walls."

"Oh..." You mumble. "Our degrees... You plan on living here forever?"

"Just a little, maybe."

"Could we just throw the mattress off the balcony next time?"

"I mean, I'm not saying no..."

You find that Jason's still the biggest book nerd in college. His 4.0 is daunting compared to yours despite being in the same school as you, and it's just a little... terrifying. At the very least, all of his professors adore him. You find that it's at the very least — helpful. It's great that Jason's adored by your shared professors because when Jason accidentally lets slip that you're his girlfriend, it gives you a boost. You don't know how, but you end up relaying messages to Jason through your professors occasionally. You wonder just what kind of tactics Jason's employing to get on their good side an ungodly amount, but it's not your problem. Jason has the face card and the personality for it.

At the very least, when it comes to you, he does.

"Prof wants to see you at office hours." He hums. "English 102."

"Jesus, what did I do now?" You grimace.

"Probably that shitty essay you bullshitted."

"God." You mumble. "I truly need to get on your level."

"Thank you, sweetheart." He hums. "The art of knowing does not come easy."

"Yeah, yeah." You grumble. "We should get back to a book a week. Sorry, I mean I should get back to a book a week."

"You can start by catching up with me."

"M..." You pause. "How about... no."

"Well, your choice." Jason hums. "We're mid semester—"

"WHICH IS ANOTHER THING. WHY DID WE MOVE MID-SEMESTER??" You snap your head to look at him, annoyed. "Jay, baby."

"I know." He pouts. "But you hated that dorm too."

"Yeah, but now I have to change all of my mailing addresses. Again." You mumble. "I hate doing that. I don't know how many accounts I even have."

"At least you got all of your packages."

"I guess..." You sigh. "Well, at the very least... we own this place."

"We own the building."

"WHAT." 

"Correction. B bought the building and transferred ownership to me. I own the building."

"Oh my god." You mumble. "You truly are learning from the worst..."

"Worst being you?"

"Yes. Duh. How many times have I called B for a hundred dollars because I couldn't afford matcha?"

Jason holds back a laugh, closing his eyes as his brows furrow. "Matcha does not—"

"No, but B can spare it." You hum. "Don't worry. I pay him back with the abundance of gifts I bring with each travel."

"Which is on B's account." Jason pauses. "You know what? Yeah. Whatever. Eat the rich. I didn't steal his tires and strike gold for me to be telling you to go easy on his bank account."

You give him a thumbs up. "Well, I make my own as well. It's nice to not need to worry about tuition... but it's also a pain in the ass to not be able to make money here."

"At least you have a legal ssn and everything."

"Not."

"Not ssn. Sorry." He snorts. "Well, better than the goons in Gotham, I'm sure."

"Definitely." You hum.

Jason tunes out your rambling as he glances around the room. The couch would arrive soon, and the rest of the furniture (including the 4K HD TV that you deemed necessary in order to, and he quotes, "see men in 4k" on) would arrive soon. He wonders just what he would be doing had he not met you. 

Would his life have ended when he nearly lost his life? Would he have gone to find his mother had you not clung onto him and threatened suicide? Even then, you were insane. He glances back at you as you tilt your head at him, expecting an answer.

"Sorry, babe. Spaced out."

"I was asking if you wanted takeout for dinner."

"Maybe?" Jason pauses. "Sure. You wanna order?"

"There's a place downstairs that I wanted to go to." You hum. "Right out there."

"Hope that pizza is just as good as the one that Dick won't shut up about." Jason mumbles.

"You recon I could ask them if they take school dining dollars?"

"They don't."

"Wouldn't hurt to ask." You grin. 

"I'm not asking for you." He deadpans. "I'll search it on reddit for you, though."

"Mm... that works." You hum. "So... wanna tell me what was on that exam you took?"

"No."

"No?? Not even a clue??" You gasp, pretending to be hurt.

"You'll be fine."

"That 88 I got on my first exam begs to differ."

"You're my smart girl." He hums.

You grimace at him.

"Alright, alright. But you're paying for dinner."

"Bruce is, but yeah." You click on your phone, handing him the menu as you get cozy on the couch. 

Jason settles into a day to day with you, fingers interlaced with yours, placing grapes in your mouth as you rest, sigh breaking through your chest as you rest the book over your eyes.

"Tired?"

"Very." You hum. "How was your final?"

"I finished." He pulls another grape, pressing it to your lips as you part them to eat. "You're getting real lazy, sweetheart, you know that?"

"Yeah." You hum. "But you love me."

Jason pretends to think about it, tapping his chin as he puts the bowl down. "I don't know..."

"You're hand feeding me grapes and you're telling me you don't know if you love me?" You move the book from your eyes, raising a brow at him as you shuffle and lean on your elbows.. "Jason, beloved. If you tell me you don't know one more time I'm sending you straight to hell."

"By killing me?"

"Jay, baby?"

"Yes?"

"No." 

He reaches for the bowl again, breaking another grape off to give you.

"But you love me."

"Yeah, yeah." You sigh, taking the grape as Jason presses his lips to yours, giving you a quick kiss. You make a noise in protest.

"I love you more than words could express, sweetheart." He takes the last grape, slipping it past his own lips as you throw your head into the arm of the couch and groan.

"You cheeseball."

"Says the one who asked me out."

"I didn't even ask you out all that cheesily." 

"Yeah, but you asked me out."

"And you accepted it." You point. "Loser."

"Yeah, your loser."

"My loser." You sigh. 

[pucksandpower]

Can I request an Insta au where Charles fans ship him with an upcoming model without knowing that they're actually dating privately...but paparazzi reveals it and everybody is shocked

Charles Leclerc x model!Reader - Social Media AU

yourusername

Liked by scuderiaferrari, imgmodels, and 935,218 others

yourusername no spectacle on earth like the monaco grand prix 🇲🇨

tagged scuderiaferrari

View all 2,176 comments

scuderiaferrari the ferrari garage is always open to you ❤️

feralforferrari maybe that twitter thread had a point

leclercalicious she’s from monaco and has modeled for ferrari in the past. it’s really not that deep. not every woman at a grand prix has to be connected to a driver

leclercupdates

Liked by tifositalking, literallyleclerc, and 54,260 others

leclercupdates Charles Leclerc posted this photo after attending a number of fashion shows in Paris over the past few days

View all 372 comments

trulytifosi fashion icon 🤩

paddockgirlie is the fashion icon in the room with us?

littleleclerc do you know who else is in Paris for fashion week right now? 👀

loyallylestappen give it a rest already

yourusername

Liked by hautecoutureweek, donatella_versace, and 1,016,439 others

yourusername paris haute couture fashion week was an absolute dream! thank you to all of the incredible designers who gave me the honor of walking in their art

View all 2,318 comments

donatella_versace no, thank you! you are a true professional with the brightest of futures, my dear. it was a pleasure working with you

eliesaabworld you were outstanding, darling! I speak for our entire team when i say that we cannot wait to work with you again

dailymail

Liked by gridgossip, runwaytea, and 72,483 others

dailymail F1 driver Charles Leclerc and model Y/N Y/L/N were spotted locking lips and looking very much enamored with each other in Saint-Tropez

View all 967 comments

littleleclerc NO WAY

littleleclerc I KNEW IT

littleleclerc MY LIFE IS COMPLETE

kartingkween how about a little respect? some privacy? acting like you have at least a basic sense of moral decency?

catwalkdivas f**k the daily mail. all my homies hate the daily mail

leclercmeup when the boyfriend you’ve been dating without him knowing for years is off the market 💔

yourusername’s story

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and 1,356,984 others

charles_leclerc the sweetest taste of victory

View all 3,261 comments

yourusername you know … you taste pretty sweet too

yourusername and sweaty

yourusername mostly sweaty

charles_leclerc are you complaining?

yourusername definitely not

pierregasly are you sure that’s not just the taste of y/n’s lipstick?

charles_leclerc they are one and the same

littleleclerc i can finally die happy 🫠

arthur_leclerc i still don’t know why y/n agreed to date you

charles_leclerc because someone in this family actually has game

arthur_leclerc who? have i met them?

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc, f1wagupdates, and 1,087,402 others

yourusername proud beyond measure

View all 3,175 comments

charles_leclerc i have to give some of the credit to my good luck charm cheering me on all weekend

yourusername nothing wrong with a little extra motivation 😉

carlossainz55 i don’t even want to know what you promised him

charles_leclerc that’s a first

f1wagupdates charles looked extra happy this weekend and now we know why 🥹

fearlessferrari more like now we know who

[danieyells]

hi there,

thank you so much for all the voicelines you post !! if it’s okay, can i request subaru’s ?

thank you again !

You're welcome! At some point I might go back and put in the ones I leave out because they don't appeal to me as much lol but since i always end up posting 99% of them anyway I think it's enough for most people hahaha. It's all of them now! Sorry for the delay.

I WAS GONNA OMIT ONE OR TWO BECAUSE OF SPOILERS but eh i'll just warm for like. extra spoilers. since after doing more code peeking it wasn't the spoiler i thought it was. SUBARU IS A SWEETIE THOUGH. I also read Subaru's chats which were put in the code recently and. Man this guy needs anxiety meds. I have a small guess as to what his stigma is, but we'll learn in a few days anyway.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"I'm very sorry to have kept you waiting. It's wonderful to see you again."

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"It looks like there's a notice for you. I'd be happy to go pick it up for you if you've got your hands full. Oh, forgive me if I'm overstepping."

oh no he's anxious about helping--

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"I really am so lucky to be surrounded by so many kind people like you."

"I never thought I'd get the chance to enjoy the lifestyle of a student until I came to Darkwick. Every day truly is fulfilling here."

it feels like subaru is like. . .the only one who actually enjoys school life here. . .or who really enjoys being here period lmao. . . .

"You think I'm always smiling? Ha ha, I hear that a lot. It just happens when I'm around all of you."

"I may be the captain, but it's just in name. I think Haku is much better suited for the job than me."

"I've been working since I was four, so people often said I was mature for my age. But the truth is, I've still got a lot to learn."

that makes two characters whose parents have essentially been keeping them from normal life and normal childhood for work reasons since they were four year olds. . . .

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"I tend to just have hot water for breakfast. I know it would be better for me to eat a proper meal, but it's just so much effort."

DO WE REALLY HAVE TO START WITH "I NEED THE GHOULS TO EAT PROPER FUCKIN MEALS". . . .

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm sorry I'm so late. The campus is so crowded I can never manage to walk in a straight line, so it always takes me longer than I think. Silly, isn't it?"

baby you're hardly the first person i've met with anxiety about crowds. you're fine.

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"What would I do without Haku's help? Hotarubi would be a mess without him."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I wonder if I should apply early to take out any common artifacts I might need for this mission. I'll ask Haku what he thinks..."

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ah!  You surprised me there... I just got back from a small errand. Do you need something?"

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Ever since I was a child, the performing arts were my only focus. Maybe that's why people always say my mannerisms are so peculiar. It bothers you too, doesn't it?"

poor boy doesn't know how to act if he isn't acting. . .he doesn't know how to exist off-script. . .no wonder he made a deal with a demon. it's probably the first thing he's ever done for himself.

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'd like to go to the cafeteria, but the line is always so long. I feel bad taking time to choose while people are waiting behind me. The bar of entry feels a little high."

i am once again suggesting subaru get anxiety meds. hell go to sinnostra and get some weed, i bet they sell that. i hear it can help.

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm just about to go and meet a friend. I hate to inconvenience you like this, but if it's something urgent, could you speak to Haku about it instead?"

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"What am I going to do? We're supposed to be meeting up in an hour... If I cancel now, they'll hate me..."

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Whew... I'll walk you back to your house, {PC}. Oh, it's no problem at all, I assure you! I wanted some fresh air anyway."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"I have an Anomalous Ecology test coming up. It's such a fascinating subject, I couldn't help but stay up all night studying. Now I'm a little sleep-deprived."

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm going to stretch my legs a little. I might not have a show to practice for right now, but I need to keep putting myself through my paces. I'll get rusty otherwise."

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm sorry my phone's been making so much noise. I recently downloaded an app by mistake, and it won't stop sending me notifications..."

awww he's also technologically incompetent. . .poor guy was probably raised with such a heavy focus on his career he just. never needed a smartphone. anyone he needed to contact or who needed to contact him was probably always very close by. it sounds like he didn't even properly go to school before going to Darkwick. Somebody please take this boy on a walk. like anywhere. take him to a library. buy him a churro. can sho make churros? this is somebody who's never had any sort of normal social experience and sees how different he is and wishes it weren't the case, unlike Ritsu who assumes everyone else is like him, i think he'd like to have some more Experiences.

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"... ...Oh! Hello, {PC}—I didn't even notice you there. My mind was somewhere else."

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Good morning! Sorry? My hair's messy? You're right, it's sticking right up at the front... That's embarrassing. I'll fix it right away."

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I usually have lunch in the dormitory. I do eat on the terrace with Lyca every now and then, but he seems so busy these days..."

Lyca is one of the members of Obscuary, btw! Seems like he and Subaru are friends.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I didn't take you for a night owl, {PC}. Since you're here, I suppose I'll stay up a little longer. You're sure you're okay? You're not sleepy?"

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Do you visit Sinostra very often, {PC}? I see... Oh, no reason. I was just making conversation. Ha ha."

why do you ask that. . .a certain mafioso captain wouldn't happen to be suspicious of you would he. . .or maybe you owe them money. . .or maybe you used to be part of Sinostra and moved to Hotarubi. . . .

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"It's getting late, {PC}. How about we finish this tomorrow? Thank you for keeping me company all this time."

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to come all the way to my room to wake me up—I'd feel terrible. I do very much appreciate the thought, though."

it's okay buddy jin already makes them do it, one more pit stop won't hurt.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Oh, hello, {PC}. Sorry, I was actually just on my way out. I should be back by evening—do you mind if we speak then?"

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Lyca has seen my message, so why hasn't he responded to it? I hope nothing bad has happened to him..."

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Lyca will adapt well to human society, I'm sure of it. I'm so relieved that Darkwick chose to trust him. I can't thank you enough for your help."

he really likes Lyca huh? that is his dog.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"You can't sleep? Then let me tell you some stories. Legend has it that evil spirits appear once you've told a hundred. Now, what number was I up to..."

BOY IS TRYNA GET YOUR ASS HAUNTED.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"I don't want to seem like I'm testing you, I just... I get really anxious sometimes... I'm sorry. I'm being weird, aren't I?"

he's the type to ask 'are you sure you love me? are you sure you wanna be with me?' after you get married and move in together and own a house and have two kids with another on the way. he's the hyper anxious 'i'm sorry we disagreed about our favorite colors do you hate me?' friend(affectionate) I wonder though, is he apologizing for seeming like he's testing you because he's using his stigma to see what you've been up to or something. . .? Probably not lol it's more likely he just keeps asking if you like him

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"There is no time like spring. Everyone seems more relaxed this time of year. It's reassuring to see."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I have some sakura mochi. I was just about to prepare some tea to go with it—would you like to join me?"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"They have no control over whether they bloom, and yet they get made a spectacle of nonetheless... Oh, sorry—I was talking about the cherry blossoms."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"There are many different flowers growing in Hotarubi, but I think the wisteria are my favorites. This is the best time to see them, so you should take a walk around."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Hot today, isn't it? It's always raining in Hotarubi, so it does provide a little escape from the blazing summer sun, but... Ha ha. It is very humid, isn't it?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Summer makes me think of the ghost story Yotsuya Kaidan. The scene where Oiwa becomes hysterical, having realized her her face has been disfigured— incredible."

Yotsuya Kaidan is one of the best known japanese ghost stories! It's extremely violent, so read the summary at your discretion. The scene in question has Oiwa shown her reflection by her sister's boss to see that the cream she was given by a woman who was in love with her husband was actually some sort of poison that instantly scarred her face. She grabs a sword and goes to kill her, only for her to accidentally slit her own throat.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hotarubi House holds regular festivals during the summer months. If you need a yukata to wear, I'd be happy to pick one out for you."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I don't mind scary stories, but when that biwa in the tea room started playing by itself, it did make me jump a little..."

slight spoiler, although you can probably figure it out from this but. . .Zenji is a ghost. Subaru currently can't actually see him or hear his voice. . .only Haku, the pc, and, perhaps not so oddly, Towa can afair. All of his youtube content doesn't have him or his voice in it because he can't be recorded by cameras. So Subaru doesn't realize that the biwa playing on its own is actually Zenji playing the biwa.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"The air has gotten crisper, and the leaves are changing color. I know it's only natural for the seasons to shift, so why does it make my heart ache so much?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Oh, these? They're some chestnuts I found. I know—I should give them to Sho. I'm sure he'll be able to make something delicious with them."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"That's another kuchikiri tea ceremony under my belt. It's an annual tradition where one cuts open a tea jar to reveal the tea that was preserved from the first harvest."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"On long autumn nights when the moon is shining beautifully in the sky, it's hard to resist taking a walk outside. Don't stay out until too late though, {PC}."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"...Oh, {PC}. Good morning... I had a hard time getting up today. It must be the cold... Ha ha. Not very captain-like, is it?"

Jin, Taiga, and Ed are all prone to not getting out of bed. and Yuri falls asleep on operating tables when he has down time. Trust me Subaru you are perfectly captain-like.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Today, I'm going to order ingredients from one of my favorite stores so we can all make negima—tuna and scallion—hot pot together. Please, do join us."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"It's cold out today. I was just thinking about lighting the fire. Would you like to come and warm up with me?"

oh subaru you don't even know how that sounds

(between 8pm and 5am)

"People say winter makes you want to snuggle up with someone, but I find that a good blanket does a much better job."

i agree that blankets are much easier to manage than people lol. probably warmer too.

His birthday: (February 20th)

"A present? For me? Thank you... I didn't expect you to do anything for my birthday, so I'm a little caught off guard. I really appreciate it."

Your birthday:

"Um... Happy birthday.  I really hope this year will be a wonderful one for you."

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. I hope I can depend on your guidance and support again this year."

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Chocolate? Oh, It's Valentine's Day, isn't it? Does that mean these are for me...?"

nah i just wanted you to look at them. YES THEY ARE FOR YOU BBY. why would you be showing him chocolate if it wasn't for him! On any day, not just valentine's day!!

White Day: (March 13th)

"These are for you, {PC}. I put in a special order for monaka from my favorite confectioner in Ginza. They're wafers filled with bean jam—I hope you like them."

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Earlier, Haku told me he was switching houses. It gave me a real shock— I'm very relieved that it wasn't true..."

i bet subaru made the most scared kicked puppy face and started apologizing for being such an awful captain and blamed himself for that haku would go to a different house and haku had to quickly explain it was just a prank for fear that subaru might burst into tears.

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Happy Halloween. I know it's nothing special, but I've prepared some treats for the occasion. Oh... But you're more than welcome to play a trick instead."

please don't trick him. april fool's day was hard enough for him.

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Merry Christmas. We already have our New Year decorations up in Hotarubi, so it has a real east-meets-west atmosphere now. I hope everyone is okay with it..."

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Everyone seems busy at the moment. Maybe I should use this opportunity to tidy the garden..."

(13 affinity and above)

"{PC}? Oh... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just worried because you were so quiet..."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"You're back... I'm so relieved. I was worried I'd done something to make you feel uncomfortable..."

this man shakes like a chihuahua 24/7. like you can taste the anxiety coming off of him. i love him. he's so pathetic(affectionate). i wanna squeeze his hand reassuringly and tell him everything's gonna be okay. i wanna hug him and pat his head. i wanna take him places so he learns more about the world outside of working. i wanna watch him do schoolwork excitedly because he's never really gone to school before and it's a new and exciting experience. i want him to experience the most mundane aspects of life with wonder.

good boy. yeah. get him anxiety meds /nodnod

[witchinatree]

i have posted a LOT about the issues i had with season 4 of TUA but i'm going to say everything i've been thinking right here right now. i cannot get this shit out of my head.

i think a lot of it ties back to the flaws i noticed in season 3, they tried to take on too much and abandoned the previous storylines that were waiting for them (viktor's traumatic relationship with leonard, five's trauma in general, lila's parents dying because of five, DAVE, etc etc) and we were all expecting them to tie it all together in season 4

instead they just.. added more..???? jennifer and abigail were thrown in late season 3 and were just suddenly supposed to be super important to us (they were not.) the subway that takes you to other timelines (objectively cool as fuck, why is this only introduced in the last season of The Timeline Show)

and i'm still really upset that reginald is an alien because it makes no fucking sense. i always assumed he created the mystery 43 babies (why else would he seek them out and already have a plan for them) but the alien route was.. ill-fitting. i think it would've worked better if he fell in love with abigail, who was an alien and created marigold, and then his hubris and curiosity was what unleashed it into the world and doomed the timeline. "sure this mystery chemical destroyed the planet my wife is from but i'm reginald hargreeves so that won't happen to me!" [happens to him] also i wish abigail was not just used as "see! abuser not so bad! abuser have wife! he love wife :]" because. what. and then her weird complaints about reginald in episode 6 that came out of nowhere confused me. they just should've written her entirely different if they were gonna have her at all

AAALSO i hated that they regressed all of the characters back to how they were in season 1 (or worse??). luther was living in the old umbrella academy building because apparently he will never leave it?? after everything?? diego's life was different but he was still doing this weird job shit (discount batman and mail carrier are the same thing) and he was miserable with his loving wife and kids (who ARE you.). allison's husband left her again (what the hell raymond) and she was still the neglectful single mother of claire?? after EVERYTHING I KNOW I ALREADY SAID THAT BUT GOD. klaus actually had something going for him, if only his recovery wasn't made into a joke, and then he relapsed and got kidnapped and was just very.. season 1 klaus.. but with no ghost ben anymore. five.. eugh. he was not season 1 five he was just NotFive. crazy how they had a magnus archives crossover and just brought in NotThem to take five am i right guys. ben's also different because it's not the same ben from season 1 but they just made him really fucking mean. like worse than season 3 because there wasn't that underlying "please i just want to be loved" thing. crypto bro ben was funny as fuck though. and VIKTOR just fucked off by himself after working so hard to be part of the family again. glad he got to transition and become canada's #1 manslut but jesus, just abandoned everything you did to be part of the family huh.

my vision for the ending of TUA would go something like this

ending of season 3, pretty much the same but they all have their powers and reginald's head getting sliced in half did not reveal him to be some alien freak. also at some point abigail would have been introduced. i don't feel like rewriting season 3 too okay i'm cutting corners.

luther finds sloane when he goes back to where the umbrella academy building used to be, but it's now a very lovely apartment that the two of them live in together. they host all of the family gatherings for sentimental and space reasons. i think luther would explore the stripper idea but decide not to follow it because of sloane. sloane would be fine with it but luther would still get worried.

diego and lila live in the same house somewhat nearby. lila's family (they do get to be alive but lila does have to overcome the trauma of losing them while simultaneously getting them back) are their neighbors, it was the compromise they came to because diego wanted their house to be their space but lila wanted her family close. they have three kids who are each loved and names get to be in the fucking show. (looking at you mystery twin. grace and coco (?) didn't really get much attention either). they have a big backyard that the kids all play in together when they're visiting

allison and ray are still together and they have claire (maybe another kid...) they also live somewhat nearby the rest of the umbrella family because i refuse to let them separate. i don't have much to say about them other than RAY DID NOT WALK OUT ON HER.

klaus and dave live in allison and ray's neighborhood. maybe they adopted a kid? maybe they didn't? i think their family would be really cute either way. klaus is still overcoming his addiction and dave supports him through it. it's not made into a joke and actually gives klaus a lot of depth and emotional moments. also just in general dave meeting the rest of the family would be really really sweet

five gets to retire. he lives with viktor in my mind. full circle on viktor being the person who always waited for him and offered him a place to stay after he got home in season 1. five would not actually be getting a retirement pay because he has never had a real job so he's just vik's roommate now. he could have a romance plotline with a woman working at the department store down the street named delores. she looks familiar.

ben lives alone and works at a tech company? honestly i don't know what i would do with him in the pre-plot but it would not be put him in jail?? me personally. i think he would probably move further away than everyone else but stay close enough so he could visit sloane sometimes. he still feels like an outsider but doesn't know how to tell the umbrellas he wants to be their brother now

and viktor lives with sissy harlan and five (previously mentioned). his transition gets to actually be explored (PLEASE.), harlan is in therapy, and sissy is a strong working woman!! again i don't really know what to do with him pre-plot. just know he's the happiest he's ever been!!!

and just in general, a lot of this happiness from all of them comes from their powers and that they can finally be one big happy family together (whether ben likes it or not). setting up the inherent tragedy that comes with perfection

episode 1 opens by showing everything i just explained, the tragedy of getting everything you want or whatever the title was. their powers are still integral to their lives. they're either tied to their careers (luther would probably be like a wrestler or something again, diego could try police work again because i want that to be explored) or other aspects of their existence (allison still finds herself doubting how much of her life is real, klaus' relapses are always caused by his trauma surrounding ghosts, five sometimes space jumps when he wants to be alone [also i think he could feel some sort of shame/guilt because he lives with viktor and can't really contribute much without the commission. not really his fault though because of his insanely fucked timeline], ben uses the squid to carry things or grab things that are far away, and viktor plays the violin to help him remind himself that he is in control of his power now, and he won't end the world again)

the main conflict starts when ben meets a new woman named jennifer and shakes her hand when introducing himself (starting the marigold/durango reaction that builds very slowly throughout the season.) it could be romantic but i think it's just devestating. they're slowly realizing they're losing everything they worked so hard for because of something they can't control

yadda yadda yadda figuring shit out while also having conflicts in their life from the earlier seasons and it culminates in the old umbrella academy building, viktor is the only person who can remove the durango and marigold from ben and jennifer and save the world. he finally gets to be the hero, be the one to stop the end of the world instead of cause it, but he needs to take the marigold from each of the siblings in order to balance the amount of durango jennifer had (no idk why he would let the other like 30 something marigold kids keep theirs i really don't know how to fix that. why would they do this to me)

each of the siblings have to give up part of their lives, part of their identities, and it's hard for them!!! they struggle a lot to agree to do it!!! and it's also harder for them because they don't know if viktor will survive doing this. but he's the only one who can? is his life more important than the existence of everything and everyone? ultimately, they all give up their marigold, and viktor takes all of it and the durango to save everyone. it cancels itself out and stops the cleanse reaction, and i think it would kill viktor (but it doesn't have to). we see that same clip of the 'perfect world' but they get to be in it. they were never the problem. lila and diego play in the park with their kids. allison ray and claire are walking together. klaus and dave are talking on a bench. luther and sloane are carrying a large basket of food. ben and five are helping them set up the picnic. harlan is sitting in the grass with sissy next to him. each of the adults have a small violin tattoo on their wrists. their lives will never be as perfect as they were before, but they can finally just rest and move on. because it was never their fault.

also reginald dies. fuck that guy

[strangersteddierthings]

The Response

Part Two of The Interview [Part One] [Ao3]

With no exact time given by Robin, Eddie's left to kill time. He drags himself from the YouTube spiral to try and track down Steve on social media. After two hours, he concludes that either Steve has his (and official Corroded Coffin's) socials blocked, or Steve just doesn't have any. He's a bit baffled that people can even find Steve to send hate mail to him.

He shoots a text to Gareth. Can you find Steve on any socials?

He gets an instant reply.

DO NOT CONTACT!!!

WAIT FOR RESPONSE

DONOT MAKE THISS WORSE MUNSON

Eddie frowns down at his phone but doesn't argue. He probably would make it worse. He sends back 'k' and looks back to the laptop. Watches it auto-refresh but Robin's feed hasn't changed.

God, what will Steve have to say?

It's mostly true, that Eddie hasn't thought about Steve in years. That's been deliberate. Eddie was so furious back then. Robin wasn't wrong about him venting his feelings into a song, but how was he supposed to know Hey Steve would be the song the catch the ear of the people? And yeah, the lyrics are very unflattering.

A lot of their first songs were filled with rage. The whole first album is just their collective high school experiences. Songs about growing up in Hawkins and how shit that was for them, a song about Eddie's complicated feelings towards his dad, songs about dungeons and dragons disguised as fantasy ballads, things like that. And, of course, Hey Steve.

He can admit that years ago he reevaluated the lyrics and found it to be more harsh than was warranted. But he figured there was no point worrying about that. People exaggerate in songs all the time. The song is out, people still plead for it to be played during encore performances. Eddie hadn't thought it was hurting anyone to play it.

Hey Steve had taken Eddie less than two days to write. He did almost nothing for those two days except write. Fuck. He was still just a dumb kid when he wrote it, barely graduated high school. And the reason for writing it...

Eddie had know Steve wasn't out to his parents when he'd asked Steve to essentially runaway with him. Steve had worried about things like money, and living situations, and getting food. It had all sounded like excuses to Eddie back then. Like Steve was picking the safety of Hawkins and his parents' house over going out into the world to be with Eddie freely.

They'd fought about it. The worst fight they'd ever had. Yet, here Eddie is, a decade later and unable to recall anything that was actually said. Just a summary of that conversation exists in his mind, now. Steve wanting to wait. To save more money now that his hours at the grocery store would be changing from part time to full with him no longer being in school and able to work the morning shifts. Wait to get his car fully transferred to his name from his parents.

All things that adult Eddie can now see as reasonable. Jesus Fucking Christ. He remembers he'd given Steve some sort of ultimatum. He was leaving on the last Grey Hound from Hawkins to Indy. Steve could meet him at the bus stop or stay, but Eddie was going, with or without him.

Steve had shouted back. He knows they just got louder and nastier until Steve finally told him that he would be going without him, then, because they were over. Even as angry as Eddie had been, he'd held out hope. But that last bus left Hawkins with Eddie on it and no sign of Steve in sight.

So Eddie did what he did best. Channeled that hurt into anger and wrote a song. Never in a million years did he think that, in the very first bar they played at in Indy, they'd meet a man who wanted to take a chance with them and get them a demo. All they needed to do was get from Indy to LA. Eddie had a van and the motivation. The next year of his life was too busy for him to even think, much less worry about Steve and his breakup.

Well, that was a lie. He thought about it constantly and shoved the thoughts aside as quickly as they came. Easier to do when he had no way to check up on Steve. He left Hawkins with no laptop and a pay-per-text flip phone he'd bought at a gas station. Wayne tried his best to provide for Eddie, and that meant they'd had one cell phone between the two, and Eddie had insisted that Wayne keep it.

By the time he got a laptop and internet, Steve had blocked him on Facebook and Twitter. That was the conclusion Eddie had come to when he finally worked up the nerve to swallow his pride and apologize and couldn't find Steve on either platform. Another thing that had filled Eddie with anger and hurt. Steve had broken up with him and then made sure Eddie couldn't reach back out.

Now he wonders, did Steve block him, or did Steve delete his socials to stop the hate mail?

Eddie feels nauseous.

Fuck!

What's worse is that, before the fight, Eddie had been so sure he was in love with Steve. But how can he say that with how quickly he dropped him? With how he's acted ever since? He could justify it to himself when he was still freshly broken up with and hurting but that faded away as fame took over.

Hard to be sad about not having a boyfriend when there were plenty of people lining up to be with him.

He pulls himself from his head to look at the laptop. A new tweet shows on Robin's screen and he scrambled to turn off the auto-refresher.

It's a short tweet, and Eddie sees she's changed her name as well.

Clicking the link takes him to a YouTube video.

It starts with the camera slightly jiggling, presumably from someone hitting record. It's been set up in a recording studio. A stool in front of a mic that's suspended from the ceiling is the only thing in the frame.

"Alright, dingus, last chance to change your mind about this," Robin's voice is picked up from off screen.

"You can't talk me out of this," says a male voice, and without any thought about it, Eddie's hand flings out and slaps the space bar, pausing the video. His heart is pounding, and he has to take a few deep breaths. That was Steve's voice. Of course, it was Steve's voice, it's his statement video, but hearing it again. Hearing it spoken softly but determined.

Swallowing feels difficult. Eddie's last memory of Steve's voice was screaming. This is... this is the Steve he never thought he'd hear again, and hasn't realized how much he desperately wanted to. With shaking hands, he presses play again.

Steve steps into frame, takes a seat on the stool. He looks in the direction of the camera, and Eddie has to pause again, to take him in. His hair is longer than it was in high school, the ends of it touching his shoulders. He's got it pulled up in a half updo, keeping the hair out of his face. His face is familiar and yet so different. He certainly looks older but not in a bad way. The biggest difference is his nose; it's not as straight as it once was, like it's been broken and healed wrong. His strong, square face is as handsome as it ever was, perhaps more so now. Eddie's eyes are drawn to the two moles on his cheek; his eyes have always been drawn there. It was his favorite place to kiss Steve.

He's wearing light wash jeans and a deep blue Henley. And fuck if it doesn't make him look good.

Eddie unpauses again, and waits to hear the retribution he deserves.

"This good, Robin?"

"Yeah, you're perfectly in frame."

"Good. Uhh, hi. I'm Steve. Robin told me that there was a lot of fuss regarding a certain Corroded Coffin song, and that people wanted to hear from me. Which is wild 'cause like, I'm just some guy and I don't really have much to say-" Steve is saying, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Steve!" Robin interrupts him, "I just had to help you move because someone threw a brick through your window! What do-"

"Okay! I get it! But that's not Corroded Coffin's fault. They do that whole anti-bullying thing! It's not like they don't address harassment and bullying. I-" Steve cuts off, seeming to remember he's on camera. His face turns pink. "We can argue this later. Uhh, anyway. There is something I want to say to Eddie Munson, so I hope he's watching."

He makes a 'give it to me' gesture and Robin enters frame, handing him an acoustic guitar. "I thought I'd answer using the one thing Eddie understands best. Music. So, uh, I wrote this song with Robin's help. Lyrics are mine but the melody is Robin. The song doesn't have a title but, uh, okay. Here it goes."

And then, Steve starts to sing, looking down at the guitar for correct finger placement more than singing into the mic but it picks him up well regardless.

"Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me? Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily? Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'll tell them put me back in it-" Eddie is sitting down, and still he feels the floor fall out from under him.

"-Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I'd go through it again, ah, ah."

Eddie doesn't hear the rest of the song because of the blood pounding in his ears. This can't be- it doesn't mean- after all this time? After everything that's happened, everything Eddie let happen, unintentionally or not.

His phone buzzes against his leg. He ignores it in favor of restarting the video and listening to the video from the start. He listens to the whole song and it ends without anything else. Once Steve's strummed the last chord, he just stands up, walks to the camera and the video ends.

He restarts the video again, and again, and again. Hears Steve sing How could you think I'd scare so easily and I would do it again if I could hold you for a minute and though I know my heart would break I'd tell them put me back in it.

It's through the tenth, or eleventh, playback that his phone buzzes again and he fumbles to answer blindly, unable to pull his eyes away from Steve on the screen of his laptop.

"Gare- It's not- what did I do Gare? Everything I thought Steve would have to say never came close to what he just sang. I can't- I don't know what to do," Eddie sobs into the phone.

There's a pause of silence before what is very much not Gareth's voice says, "Well, dammit Munson. I was calling to rip you a new one but you're already crying."

It takes Eddie a moment to place the voice, "Robin?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Robin says. "I think Steve's let you off easily, but I also know I kick a hornet's nest with my interview so I think we should work on getting this cleared up, both publicly and privately."

"How did you get my num-"

"Gareth. Keep up, Munson. I'd like us to be able to call off each other's fans. Your PR team and whoever you employee to do that anti-bullying campaign have done a pretty good job so far in telling people to back off, politely. Helps that Jeff has been on top of this from the beginning. Honestly, I think the best decision you've ever made in your life was making Jeff the front man of your band and not yourself. He's much more pleasant to talk to, and so good with people."

"Robin!" Eddie has to shout because Robin keeps saying words and they don't make sense. "What?"

He hears a sign from the other end of the phone. "You are annoying. You know that, Munson? I'll work with Gareth to get this done. I think we should be seen together, publicly. Maybe getting a coffee. So everyone knows we've made up, or whatever it is Gareth and I decide is happening. We should also meet up privately. There's a lot to talk about."

"I'm so confused."

"Nothing new. Now, when are you free to get on a plane to Pendleton, Oregon?"

"Pendleton?"

"Munson!" Robin snaps, "we just established that you live in a perpetual state of confusion. Instead of questioning me, how about you answer my questions. Now, when are you free?"

"Anytime."

"Smart answer. Get your ass to Pendleton by the morning of the twenty-third. I'll work with Gareth for all the other concerns. He's easier to deal with."

"Can I ask one follow up question at least!?"

"You just did but I'll allow one more before I hang up."

"Why Pendleton?"

"It's the nearest airport to our destination. I am not having a private conversation with you in California. I don't want to be caught speaking to you until Gareth and I have a chance to work out the details."

And then Robin hangs up.

Eddie leans forward and restarts the video on his laptop before looking up plane tickets. Fixing things with Robin might be the first step in ever getting try and, he doesn't know, apologize to Steve? Maybe even have a conversation one day.

He doesn't deserve that chance, he thinks, but he's a bad enough person to want it anyway.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello!! I really appreciate your blog. I've been looking for fics told through, or just including, letters as a main theme. Thank you, have a lovely day.

Hi! You will want to check our #epistolary tag for more fics like this. Here are more to add...

A Selection of Unsent Letters from a Demon by Heretic1103 (T)

At the urging of his human friends and his grief therapy group, Crowley begins writing letters to Aziraphale that he never intends to send.

the wallpaper (slowly, slowly peeling off) by rainbowumbrella (M)

Aziraphale should put the letters away, he knew. He should just scoop them all up and slip them back into the box. No point dilly-dallying. Muriel was waiting, and so was Heaven. And yet - And yet he found himself scanning the contents of the first one in his hand, his back finding a rest on the shelf behind him, his legs crossing neatly beneath him, all without a single thought to his perfectly clean trousers. What did they matter? He hated them, anyway. *** A falling book leads Aziraphale to find a box containing all the letters he and Crowley have exchanged through the years.

Letters Unsent by Beet_Feet (T)

"You took my letter?!" Crowley sat up and twisted to look at Aziraphale with his mouth agape. "I did nothing of the sort! I found it in my notebook—the notebook in which I had written you a letter that mysteriously disappeared." "This letter?" Crowley reached down to the floorboard and held the letter up in front of Aziraphale's very flabbergasted face. He had dropped it when the angel appeared in the Bentley. "Where did you get that?!" "I found it on my car. I think someone has been playing us, Angel. Did Muriel pay you a visit today, by any chance?" (Crowley and Aziraphale vent their frustrations by writing letters they will never send to each other, but Muriel decides to meddle.)

A Letter for Later by ngk_is_cool (G)

"Anyway," his eyes returned to the newspaper, and he continued reading, “another exhibition is A Letter for Later. It will include clay tablets from Mesopotamia, vellum from Wessex, and even a modern Palm Pilot that was found at Battersea Park full of unsent love letters. It will explore the theme of unrequited love over the development of humanity…." His eyes scanned quickly the rest of the article, and he hummed in satisfaction. "It will open two weeks from now, and apparently in high demand, so much that the article recommended buying tickets in advance. Would you like to go, my dear?" Or - Crowley wrote and destroyed (or, at least, he thought did) love letters. Now they are about to be published, and he has a great plan to make sure it won't happen.

Postcards From Paris by ghostrat (G)

Crowley has just moved into his Mayfair apartment and finds a postcard addressed to the previous tenant. With no return address, he's left to collect and read the mysterious A.Z.F.'s adventures across Europe, where he hunts for bizarre bibles and rates ridiculously expensive wine in his free time. The question is: How will A.Z.F. react when Crowley finally gets his return address and writes back? --- It was different, he knew, to accidentally read someone else’s postcard versus intentionally perusing one in place of good newspaper over coffee. Crowley decided he was allowed that indecency, to balance out the good deed of safeguarding the mail in the first place. He kicked his feet up onto his desk, scooped up the takeaway coffee that was brought around by their newest intern, and settled in to read some of the most densely crowded handwriting he’d ever laid eyes on.

You’ve Got Mail by SouthDrarryReturned (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley are hereditary enemies, rival book shop owners engaged in corporate warfare. They are also pen pals that are perfect for one another. They don’t know about that bit though. A.K.A the Good Omen’s remake of the classic romcom You’ve Got Mail that no one asked for.

- Mod D

[lunaloveskpop23]

Non-idol Hongjoong x reader

Summary: The reader gets an invitation from her ex-boyfriend to his wedding. She gets upset and tells her best friend Hongjoong. She gets the idea of fake dating with her best friend Hongjoong. But what happens when Hongjoong takes the task too seriously?

Warnings: The ex is an asshole. A bit of a suggestive scene. Wooyoung is a flirt towards the reader. BxB moments a little with Woosan. Vernon is a fake character I came up with for this story. He is not Vernon from Seventeen.

Genre: A little bit of angst. Fluff.

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"Ms. L/N, you have some mail." I look up and see my secretary, Lisa.

"Oh?" She hands me a letter.

"Thank you, Lisa." I say to her and she leaves.

I look at the letter and see it's from a familiar address. I get curious and open it. It's from my ex. Vernon. He's getting married and invited me?! What the hell?!

That jerk! Inviting me to the wedding and getting married to the woman you cheated on me with.

I throw that invitation on my desk and sigh. I put hands on my face. I hate him. I swear.

"Woah, stressed from work?"

I look up and see Hongjoong. My best friend. He and I have been best friends for years. Ever since high school. He is the boss at another company and our companies work together a lot. I trust him with everything and anything.

"Worse." I point towards the letter and he picks up the letter and reads.

He gets angry and throws the letter.

"That asshole has the audacity to do this to you! Say the word, I'll beat his ass."

"Hongjoong, no. He's not worth it." I tell him.

I rub my eyes.

"I don't even know what to do. What do you think I should do?" I ask.

"Don't go. Or go and beat his ass. Both are good options."

I giggle. He smiles at me.

"Now there's that giggle I know." He says softly.

I look at him and smile.

"You're so sweet. What would I do without you?"

"Hmmm live in a ditch."

I gasps and he laughs.

"Laugh one more time and I'll beat your ass." I tease.

"You know what, let's do something tonight. Get off early. We can go to my house and order food and watch bad comedy movies."

"That sounds incredible. Ok! I'll get off early."

"Then I'll pick you up at 5 sharp. Better not be working by then." He says seriously.

"Yes, sir!" I say playfully and he rolls his eyes and leaves.

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Five rolls around. I walk outside and see Hongjoong waiting for me.

"Right on time! Your carriage awaits, my lady." He says playfully.

I giggle.

"Why thank you, my good sir!"

I get into the car and he drives away. Thankfully, his house isn't that far from here.

He pulls up at his house and I see the mansion. We get out of the car.

We walk inside.

"I'll get you some comfortable clothes. You better not think about that ex." He says going upstairs. I roll my eyes and sit down on the couch.

I look around the living room as I wait for him.

"I hope you don't mind my David Bowie shirt." He says walking down the stairs and I noticed he changed into something comfortable.

"You know I don't. I introduced you to him!" I grab the clothes gently.

"Thank you, Hongjoong." I say and I go to the bathroom and change.

I come out and see the movie pulled up.

"I ordered some chicken and I got two movies for us, tonight!"

"Ohhh fun!!" I say and we start watching the movie.

As the night progressed, we ate and watched the first movie. As we watch the second movie, we are eating ice cream. The movie we are watching had a trope of Fake dating. Which got me an idea.

"Wait Hongjoong..."

He looks up and pauses the movie and sets his ice cream down.

"Yes?"

"What if.....we go to the wedding......but as um....."

"But as what my star?"

"As fake dating. Like we go as pretend boyfriend and girlfriend and show that asshole that I moved on happily and show him he won't humiliate me."

He looks at me and is contemplating. He is silent for a while.

"It was just an idea. We don't have to do that."

"On one condition."

I look at him with wide eyes. "Yes?"

"You wear that dress I bought you."

I look at him like he's crazy.

"No way! That dress is way to expensive."

"Please!!! I promise I'll buy you another one if it gets messed up at this event."

I sigh and look at him.

"Ok. I promise."

He is happy and hugs me.

"Oh my fake girlfriend is the best!" He says dramatically.

"Yeah yeah."

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

The week goes by so quickly. Hongjoong and I plan out what our story is and how we got together. And the day before the wedding shows up.

We pack the car and head to the hotel for the wedding. We didn't go to the rehearsal because of work, but we are going to the wedding part. I did pack my dress. I look over at Hongjoong and wonder why all it took was a dress for him to say yes.

"Do I have something on my face?" He asks playfully.

"Oh um no. Sorry. I was thinking of things."

"Overthinking again? Oh love, you need to not think so much. Let that mind rest. It's not good for you." He says as he grabs my hand and holds it.

I blush. He always does this whenever I overthink. I smile.

We get to the hotel and we settle in.

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

* the day of the wedding *

I'm again in Hongjoong's car, but this time wearing a green dress. The one he bought me. I started getting nervous and worried.

"My star." I look at Hongjoong and he smiles at me.

"Everything will be fine. I promise."

I nod and smile at him. I love that he always calms me down before things like this. We get to the venue and I hear Hongjoong get out first and runs to my side. He opens the door for me. I smile.

"You're always so kind." I say to Hongjoong.

He closes the door and holds out his arm for my hand. He's really getting this fake dating thing down. We walk inside. A lot of people stared at us. I try to not look at a lot of people.

"Y/N!!!!!" I look up and see Wooyoung and San walking towards me.

"Oh my God! Look at you!! My pretty girl has returned to me!" Wooyoung says. Wooyoung is Vernon's brother and is two years older than him. San is Wooyoung's best friend.

I hug them both.

"It's good to see you two!" I say happily.

"Likewise. Look at you in that dress!" Wooyoung grabs my hands and kisses them.

"As you can see Wooyoung missed you a lot." San teases.

"Hey! She treats me better than my stupid brother. I swear he is a jackass for doing that to you! I actually smacked him upside the head because of what he did. I didn't even help with the wedding. I'm only here for the food. And San. I also heard heard you were coming so I couldn't say no to that." He smiles at me.

I roll my eyes.

"A flirt like always. But I'm glad to see you two. At least I have the both of you. Oh this is Hongjoong! My-"

"I'm her boyfriend." He says with jealousy in his voice and puts an arm around my waist. He pulls me closer.

Wooyoung gasps.

"Ohhhh he's a cutie! Better treat her right or me and San will beat your ass." Wooyoung says threatening.

"What he means to say is we hope you two are happy." San smiles at us.

"Thank you, both. We will take our seats." I grab Hongjoong and we take our seats.

"So, is Wooyoung usually that flirty?" Hongjoong asks.

"He is always like this. He flirts, hugs and kisses. It's normal for him. And I'm used to it. I mean, I wasn't at first, but he's literally better than his other two siblings, so I got along with him the most."

Hongjoong nods and looks around.

I sigh and I put my head on his shoulder.

"If you want to leave, we can. We don't have to stay." He says gently.

"I know. I just hope today will go by quickly."

Thankfully, the wedding portion of it did, but we are now at the party, and I changed into another dress Hongjoong bought me. It was a blue party dress.

As the party was going, I chatted with Wooyoung, San and Hongjoong. I ignored my ex and his wife. But obviously, they kept looking at me to my reaction to things. I didn't care. I was actually happy with Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and San.

I was dancing with Wooyoung as we talked.

"I'm surprised that you came, love." Wooyoung says.

"Well, I wanted to prove that I am strong." I say.

"And show that I'm better off."

"Well, clearly. I mean, Hongjoong is already a better boyfriend."

I blush as Wooyoung tells me.

"I can tell you both care about each other. It's adorable. Like how San cares about me."

"Oh? So finally, San mans up and asks you out?"

"Yes, finally. I swear, he's so oblivious sometimes."

I laugh.

"Knowing San, not surprised."

"May I cut in?" I look and see Hongjoong.

"By all means, lover boy." Wooyoung teases and leaves. He skips to San and hugs him.

"How many times are you going to get jealous of Wooyoung?"

"I'm not jealous." He grumbles. And I wrap my arms around his neck as we dance.

I looked into his eyes, and it felt like it was just us two. Nobody else in the world.

"I know it's not your day, but you're the most beautiful woman here." Hongjoong whispers in my ear.

I blush and smile.

"So. You actually brought a date." Me and Hongjoong stop dancing and pull away.

We look and see my ex. Vernon.

"Vernon.." I say.

"I thought you would come alone. Looks like I was wrong. Or are you her cousin she dragged here." He laughs.

"I'm her boyfriend. And I would watch your tone if I were you." Hongjoong says. He gets close to Vernon.

"Oooo so scared. Please. I was happy I cheated on her. She was to vanilla fo-" Hongjoong punches him.

"Hongjoong!!" I yell.

"Oh my God, Vernon!" His wife runs over to him.

Everyone stops and looks at what's going on.

"I said watch your tone. Now, Y/N here doesn't need an asshole like you in her life. You're just a no good scumbag who used a beautiful woman. Now, say anything else about Y/N. I dare you." He speaks with venom in his voice.

I blush. I never seen Hongjoong like this. It's really hot. Wait....hot?

Vernon gets up with his wife helping him.

"Get out!"

"With pleasure." Hongjoong takes my hand and we leave. I wave at Wooyoung and San goodbye.

They wave back.

We get into the car and he drives in silent. I don't know what to say after all of that. Hongjoong has always been protective, but I never seen him like that.

"Hongjoong..." I whisper.

"My star. I'm sorry."

I look at him confused.

"I scared you, didn't i?"

"What? No! I was just.......I never saw you like that before. I just..."

He pulls over. I get even more confused.

"Y/N. I have to tell you something."

I look at him.

"Yes?"

"I have been wanting to hide this for so long, but......I love you...."

I look at him with wide eyes.

"You.."

"That's why I acted like that. I've been in love with you for years. Even when you were with Vernon. I know this was supposed to be for the wedding, but you're so gorgeous, funny, sweet, kind, loving. Everything about you just makes my heart flutter more and I know this will most likely ruin our friendsh-"

I put a finger on his lips.

"Hongjoong. It's ok. Listen. You started acting like a boyfriend, and it kept making my heart flutter too. You're so kind, Hongjoong. I may not know how i feel yet, but how about we try this. Take me out for coffee, and we can see how it goes?"

He nods and smiles.

"Ok, coffee sounds amazing." I smile back at him.

------------------------------------------------‐-------

We went out for coffee and I had a wonderful time. We then went to dinner. Went to see a movie.

I fell for him. He acted as a boyfriend. I started gaining more feelings towards him.

We are at dinner at his house. He decided to cook.

"Is something wrong, my star?"

I look at him.

"Hongjoong.....I've thought about it more.....i...."

He grabs my hand gently.

"What is it, my star? Take your time."

"I fell in love with you. I really did."

Hongjoong smiles and come to my side. He hugs me tightly.

"My star. You have no idea how happy I am." I blush and cuddle with him.

"My Hongjoong." He kisses my cheek.

I never thought this would happen, but I don't mind. Hongjoong treats me right.

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

Hello, everyone. Here is my first story. I hope you all enjoyed it!! I'll be working on Seonghwa now.

Bye pookies!!!!!

[aurumacadicus]

Y'all I'm sorry this post was not finished here is the end 😭

--

Tony doesn't know what to do. He'd thought his breakup letter was lost forever, not just misplaced to send later. He doesn't want to break up with Steve anymore. But apparently he doesn't have a choice in the matter anymore. Steve had finally read his first letter, his intent to break up on his first month deployed. How cowardly he'd been, saying goodbye in a letter instead of face-to-face. How bad a friend he was, when Steve knew how Tony had promised to never send one specifically because of how much Rhodey had been hurt in the past.

He shoves it into the couch cushions and stands, backing away from it as if the couch might attack him. Then he goes to grab it, to put it in the trash. Then he backs off again, too scared to see those big, blocky letters blaring at him like he's Hester Prynne or something. Maybe he can call Pepper to dispose of it. Except she's in France right now. She won't be back for a week. He rocks back on his heels, feeling jittery and sick.

It can wait for a week, he decides, backing away.

But he's too ashamed to tell Pepper about it when she comes back, and he's too ashamed to tell her that he's been dumped. She'd probably ask if it wasn't what he'd wanted all along. And maybe he did, because he was scared, because he couldn't believe that Steve was different from every other person he'd dated, but he doesn't want to be dumped now. Now that he's written and received hundreds of letters, has fallen even more in love with Steve, had hopefully given Steve some reason to love back--

He deserves this, Tony thinks, hurt fading into a hollow in his chest, until he just feels numb. What was it Steve had joked? He was his own tragedy. That had been in response to him getting an ice-cream and then immediately dripping it down his silk shirt, but apparently Steve had had him pegged from the beginning: All of his unhappiness has been because of his choices. And this was just the unhappiness from his stupid Dear John letter finally coming back to bite him in the ass. So he puts all the letters he's kept in a box, hands it to Dum-E, and tells him to incinerate them.

If Pepper notices that Tony's not picking through his mail anymore, she doesn't say anything, and Tony puts it out of his mind. This was always the conclusion with his letter, he reminds himself. Just because it took a little longer to reach this point, it was always coming.

"What's this?" Rhodey asks a month later, digging the envelope out from under the cushions after the corner pokes at his hip. Tony tries to snatch it from his hand, but Rhodey bats him away, looking it over. "Dear John," he says a moment later, raising an eyebrow. He looks up at Tony. "Did you label this yourself?"

He looks so bewildered that Tony just lets it spill out, even though he's certain that Rhodey will hate him for it. How he'd sent Steve the breakup letter, but it hadn't gotten to him, and he was too cowardly to send another, and how he'd fallen even more in love with Steve and was getting over his trust issues and was looking forward to Steve coming home so he could tell him about his stupid letter and how glad he was that it never made it to him and he was so certain Steve would laugh about it and--

"Oh boy," Rhodey sighs, pulling him down into a hug as Tony blubbers about how sorry he is that he ever found out his friend was a hypocritical coward who did the one thing he promised to never do. "Tony, that was ten fucking years ago. We were young. I don't blame her. And I don't blame you."

It takes a weight off his shoulders, even if the ache of losing Steve still sits heavy in his chest. Once Rhodey is gone, Tony hands the letter off to Dum-E, telling him to put it with the others. He's healing, he thinks, as Dum-E does a spin before zooming away with the envelope in his claw.

So of course Steve arrives on his doorstep two weeks later, crutches under each arm and a bandage over his right eye. Tony gapes up at him, stunned.

"Sweetheart," Steve breathes, hopping closer. "You stopped sending me letters."

Tony steps backward. "You," he finally manages to sputter. "You sent it back. Returned to sender. I. I didn't know you could do that."

Steve squints at him, brows furrowing together. "It's... the mail? Of course I--but I didn't? I've been in a coma. For the last three months."

Tony reaches up to cup his cheek and stops when he remembers he doesn't get to do that anymore, fingers curling back toward his palm as he draws his hand back. "Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? Can I get you anything? I can--I can pay for a specialist if you need--"

"Tony," Steve cuts in, gently but firmly. He reaches out to grab Tony's arm, pulling it so his hand is back up, and he leans his cheek against Tony's palm. "I got your letter."

Tony stares up at him, unable to comprehend. "You... got lots of letters."

"You tried to break up with me, but Colonel Rhodes warned me that might happen, so I ignored it, and just wrote to you like I normally would. I figured, if you meant it, you'd send another, and if you didn't, you'd be too awkward to say anything," Steve says, smiling. He's missing a tooth, Tony notices vaguely. "And it worked! You kept writing me back."

"What the fuck kind of convoluted logic," Tony chokes out, but he finds he can't quite bite back a slightly bewildered smile, either.

"And then I got got," Steve sighs, his own smile fading. "Grenade. Had to put me in a coma to heal right. And one of the guys found your Dear John letter when he was grabbing something for me and decided to send your last letter back. He thought he was helping me I guess." He looks down for a second, then back up, smile back in place. "But! I'm here now. I'm on medical leave!"

Tony blinks at him slowly. "...Steve," he says after a moment. "Are you supposed to have a chaperone right now?"

Steve sways forward. "Tony, I'm going to be real honest with you," he whispers. "I am still on so many painkillers. I took Bucky out at the knees with my crutch and booked it."

"...Steve, you are in a lot of trouble," Tony tells him gently, then lifts his other hand, cradling Steve's face between them. "I am going to let Bucky yell at you. But! I will hold your hand while it happens."

"Well," Steve sighs. "As long as you hold my hand." Then he brightens again. "I had Dum-E store my letters for you. I knew you'd try to get rid of them. That deserves a kiss, right?"

"...How long did you plan this out?" Tony asks, frowning at him.

"Colonel Rhodes was very explicit about what would happen. I'm better than all your previous partners," Steve tells him proudly. "I! Am going to marry you someday. Also! Don't worry! I know I am not better than Pepper."

"What?" Tony asks, but then Steve is pressing in, peppering his face with sweet kisses. "Steve. Wait. Wait a minute. I have to--"

"We have maybe ten minutes until Bucky gets here and beats me to death please let me love on you," Steve whines, and Tony doesn't have the heart (and is still too confused) to tell him no.

[katz-chow]

100 letters just for me...

synopsis: distance makes the heart ache and yet, it still grows fonder. gets extremely harder when you're forced back a few decades and are forced to wait for the mail to come every morning. aka: what their letters are like.

a/n: there's certain homecoming aspects within it, just keep thinking about that lately with the US' descion to deploy soldiers to the Middle East, thank god there's only soldiers and not seamen or corpsmen just yet... i am getting worried though for my sake and my friends.

i also am very happy with my headcanons for their handwritings and how serious they are with these love letters too. i feel like i really did capture them.

john price & his darling spouse his letters are short, usually a page; sometimes there's a back too. he really hates writing to you because somehow, he just can't tell you all the things he wants to, his hand just won't let him write it. gosh, his vows weren't even written out, just bullet points on a note card and him just rambling on. the paper always smells like cigar smoke and he somehow stains it with coffee by accident or spills water on it. you also think he uses his work memo pad to write these letters to you; the pages are yellow, thinned, and fuzzy at the edges

johnny "soap" mactavish & his bonnie...and fiance to be? he always has his journal with him, so i think he straight up just writes in it with doodles, pressed flowers, and stickers that he finds in his stuff. loves when you put cute little stickers on your return letters and he feels bad when he doesn't have any on yours. he found these smileys at a gas station, and although it's not as cute as your cute animal ones, it really brightens up the bleak pages. he tears the page out slowly, sometimes a word gets torn off by accident. he folds the page up and puts it in the envelope along with some trinkets, like more pressed flowers or a paperclip heart or maybe even a postcard.

simon "ghost" riley & his lovie baby keeps his letters short and vague. it's really just a sign of life for your sake of mind. he's never been good with the sappy, romantic stuff. he writes early in the morning after him and price goes over the agenda for the day. he tries really hard to keep the paper pristine and hardly crumbled to make sure it looks good for you. he smears the pen ink sometimes. he'll write about the adventures that he's getting into, but he mainly focuses on his friends messing around while also mentioning about the terrorists he's killed that week.

kyle "gaz" garrick & the chase for his lovebug my headcanon for kyle is that he loves bugs, especially beetles. it started when he was a kid and his dad told him that bugs are just tiny little souls and that humans have the capacity to be kind. so he loves bugs, especially his lovebug. he also loves stickers and know you love them too. it's a good change of the neutral color scheme of his environment, so he always keeps stickers on hand whenever he's deployed. i think he writes before he goes to bed because then he can fall asleep thinking about you

phllip graves & his cowpoke phillip graves has a ranch somewhere, probably in texas. he has farmhands that help around the ranch, mostly gives you easy work like feeding and cooking while he takes the more tedious jobs like cleaning and maintenance around the land. he sits down and writes his letter whenever he feels a surge of feelings missing you. mostly it's in the evening but sometimes he writes them late at night. also the type of guy to surprise you, but within reason. doesn't want to overwhelm you, so he'll come home a few days before when he said he was gonna- things like that

[dduane]

Well, I could just commit to not buying Starlight pre- or post-mortem, if that would help take the pressure off. ;)

(LAUGHTER)

...It's okay.

But I'm not sure people can imagine the mixture of feelings that accompanies getting mails like these. "Please finish this book before you die"? [resigned grin] Wow, thanks for +1-ing my already-ample pile of daily reminders of my mortality. But I appreciate the thought. "Please finish this book before I die"? ...Wow, no pressure then.

It is unquestionably wonderful to have readers who enjoy your fiction enough to bug you about this stuff. It is unquestionably less wonderful to know that—by missing a doctor's appointment, by looking the wrong way before crossing the street, by suddenly and abruptly suffering one of the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to—you may betray them. And not a damn thing you can do about it.

...And what makes it more maddening, in its way, is that I've known how this last book in the series ends since 1979. ...But knowing how a piece of fiction ends, and getting it there in the shape that best matches the (as it were) Platonic concept of that book in your head, are two way different things. By hurrying, or taking bad advice about it—to betray the book that lives in your head, waiting for you to give it the life it's meant to have: that's beyond the pale, unforgiveable. ...And then of course time, and business, and personal stuff, interfere in their own ways. There's no safe road.

(amused/resigned shrug) No point in getting overly worked up about it. I serve the Work as best I can, in real time. It's all any of us can do. And sometimes other works than the ones you've got tagged as Most Important get written first: because the works lined up in your head often have priorities of their own that feel your master plan can just go F itself. (resigned grin again)

...Meanwhile, you may want to inspect that commitment above to make sure you haven't painted yourself into some kind of obscure temporospatial corner. I'd hate to be in even more trouble. :)

[vvh1sk3y]

Headcannons on Simon Riley being a first time father! 😻

character(s): simon "ghost" riley, afab!reader

warning(s): pregnancy?

for a long time simon did not want to be a father, he always told himself he would never be capable of doing so in fear of somehow being like his own father

when he found out you were pregnant, he put his worries and doubts aside, he knew that things would work out

he worried over every little thing, if you were a little tired, throwing up, sore, swollen, he was in panic mode even you told him these things were normal.

when you went into labor simon made sure to be there the entire time, he absolutely hated seeing you in pain to the point where he was almost yelling at the nurses there at one point.

once your baby arrived, a little girl, simon balled. you had seen him cry before, but nothing like this. he couldn’t believe the both of you had made a little human.

just like when you were pregnant, every little thing your daughter did- cry, puke, maybe have a bad diaper- simon would overthink and become a nervous wreck.

simon learned how to control his temper a bit more and vowed to never yell at his daughter.

as you and simon’s daughter grew older, she became very attached to him. going away for work was harder than before, as he couldn’t always call or communicate with you and your daughter.

some nights you’d wake up to her crying asking to see simon, and you’d have to explain it would be a while before her father would be home.

the second simon was home? the man had no personal space. she would follow him around everywhere he went, she’d wait for him outside the bathroom, if he went out to get the mail she’d follow, but of course simon didn’t mind.

when his daughter was nine, he taught her how to shoot a gun (without telling you of course)

simon made sure to teach your daughter as many valuable lessons as possible, he didn’t want her to end up like him.

after being seriously injured on a mission away, it made simon realize he really wanted to leave his life in the military behind and become a family man, he had a long talk with price that day.

he burned all but one of his masks and most of his military stuff, hoping to be able to leave that life behind him once and for all.

[thebigbadbatswife]

Hi sorry to bother you or bug you but can you please write a fanfic or maybe a short post about how would the mail Justice League members would react to female superhero reader while she's on her period apparently I'm on the starting stage of having my period cramps are the worst and I need comfort you can make this however you want it's up to you I understand if you don't want to that's fine but if you do want to do this thank you so much you're an awesome person and an amazing writer and also I think you're writing is awesome never stop loving yourself and never stop treating yourself also don't forget to have a self care day 😇

 Hey! You’re not bothering me at all! 

You know what I don’t normally take requests (refer to my pinned post), but screw it. I’m having a shitty time with my own uterus so why not? Nothing makes me feel better than reading and/or writing fluff when I feel bad and hopefully this’ll make you and other people feel better as well 💜

I’ve already done a post similar to this featuring Bruce (you can find that here) so for this I’m just going to be doing Arthur, Clark and Ollie* since I know them better than I do the rest of the League. I hope that’s okay! 

And thank you so much for your kind words! I’m so glad that you like my writing! I hope that you enjoy 💜

*And a bonus w/ Diana since the idea came to me while I was writing the boys and I could not resist and just had to include her.

Warnings - F!Reader. Established Relationship. Period mentions (Obviously). Comfort. Fluff!

Clark keeps track of your cycle so that he can always make sure you’re stocked up on the things that you need. Chocolates, sweets, sanitary products, pain medicines, his mom’s special homemade cookies. You name it, he’s already stocked the cupboards and fridge with it. 

Definitely a bit of a mother hen. Likes to dote on you and make sure that you’re fed and hydrated, but isn’t overbearing or condescending in any way. He knows that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself. He also knows that there are times where you just want to be taken care of and cuddled in bed until you’re feeling better, he’s more than happy to do so. He’s also a walking furnace so no more waiting for a hot water bottle or heat pad to warm up when you’ve got Clark right there instead.

Arthur is a lot of like Clark. Keeps track of your cycle, makes sure you have everything you could possible need. You don’t even need to lift a finger as he will have the palace staff bring it straight to you. 

Obviously, as king of Atlantis, he has duties he must attend to, but the ones that he can pass off to others he does so that he can be there for you while you need him. When he is with you be ready for lots of kissing and cuddling as he makes it up to you and does his best to make you feel better. 

Oliver can be… a little bit forgetful. He doesn’t keep track of your cycle like Clark and Arthur, at least he doesn’t in the very beginning of your relationship. Definitely makes the wrong joke at the wrong time and the glare that you give him is more than enough for him to realise he’s messed up and badly. He’s quick to start making amends though!

Waits on you hand and foot. Anything that you want he will run and get it for you. To the point that it’s like he’s trying to compete with the Flash for the title of fastest man alive. Still makes jokes, but now they’re so ridiculously corny it’s hard to not laugh at them when you’re still trying your very best to be mad at him. Is more than happy to snuggle with you (once you have forgiven him and will actually let him).

Bonus!

Diana, of course, knows just how much periods can hurt. She sympathises with you greatly when she finds you curled upon the couch and she hates to see you in such pain and discomfort. She makes sure that you have eaten, drunk something and had some pills before she is pulling you to lay on top of her, strong muscular arms wrapping around you and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. She won’t be leaving your side until you’re feeling better so if there is anything that you need she will order it in for you instead.