#all that just to be resolved with one kiss???

[ak319]

Lovesick bubbly hubby x fem reader

ミ☆ Slice of Life

♥︎ Syno: Narin and you had a baby, and it's a boy! ♥︎ Warnings: bxg but matriarchal themes e.g. mpreg mentions! Fluff and lots of it and a bit of spice too..;) ♥︎ previous

If someone had told Narin how different his life would be now, he would pause, blink, and then smile. Because they’d be absolutely right.

In the small moments carved out of his busy routine, as your dearest, only, and unquestionably prettiest husband of the century, and now, as a papa too, Narin finds himself glowing. He’s the proud father of the cutest baby alive: Mylo. Your son. His son. A perfect blend of everything he finds magical in this world. From this marriage to the beautiful home you’ve built together, Narin can’t stop thanking God.

Even his parents, especially his father, noticed a subtle shift in him, something like maturity. Narin, the boy who once barely finished assignments on time, now insists on knowing every detail about how to feed Mylo, how to burp him, how to swaddle him just right, how to lull him to sleep, and still find time to cook your favorite meals.

You and his parents have gently suggested hiring a maid, just to ease the pressure.

But Narin? Absolutely not.

"Are you kidding!? A MAID!? What if he flirts with you!? What if he tries to seduce you while I’m in the nursery, elbow-deep in diaper duty? DON'T EVER SAY THAT!" he’d shriek and break stuff, already imagining dramatic betrayal scenarios.

No stranger was stepping into this home. This sanctuary. His wife, his baby, his perfect little life, he was going to protect it with every inch of glittery, sleep-deprived resolve he had.

Speaking of...

🍭 "Do I look fat? Have I changed a lot? Have I lost the baby weight or no-"

"My little angel, cupcake, you’re perfect as alwa-"

"YOU ALWAYS SAY THAT!"

And there come the tears.

As if cradling Mylo and keeping him quiet wasn’t enough already. One wrong movement and that baby will erupt. Two crying babies? Definitely not what you signed up for after coming home completely knackered.

"I say that 'cause it’s true, babe!"

"Oh really?! Then why did your brother TAUNT me about-"

"I told you to ignore what my family says! Why do you always listen to them-"

Insert loud wailing from Mylo.

Perfect timing.

"Shh, it's okay. Your father is just having a moment-"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

Oh no.

His routine is even more exciting for him now! From you cuddling them both in the morning for at least an hour, showering your boys with kisses, to him getting himself and Mylo ready before you come back from work-

Absolute heaven.

And do you think that after having a baby, he lost his own flair? That cunning, minxy flair? Think again.

🍭 He leans back into your chest as you cuddle him closer, your arms wrapped around him and Mylo nestled peacefully on his lap. Narin hums softly, inhaling the familiar scent of his beauty products and the sweet, distinct baby smell clinging to Mylo’s blanket.

"How’s work going, Coco? I hate seeing you… work yourself this much…" he murmurs, his fingers absentmindedly stroking Mylo’s tiny sock-covered foot. But you...

You weren't listening. Too busy nuzzling his neck and stpping yourself from devouring him right then and there.

"I mean, I get it, you’re amazing and a hard working woman, wife and all, but maybe... maybe just lie down here? Just for a bit? On me?" he whispers, tilting his head back to look at you with those wide, pleading eyes. "I promise I won’t move. Not even a twitch."

The way he's acting all meek--God, he's gonna get it.

He shifts slightly so the blanket covers your legs too. "I even warmed your favorite one. See? I planned this nap. It’s romantic."

Then, a pause.

"...Unless you’re leaving again. Are you leaving again?" His voice wobbles, and his lower lip starts to jut out, slowly, dramatically.

That pout. That ridiculous, practiced, award-winning househusband pout.

If you even hint at standing up, he’ll clutch your sleeve like a Victorian widower watching his love go off to war.

"Mhm...who said anything bout' leaving, mhm?."

You shift slightly behind him, your chin resting on his shoulder, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

"Y’know," you murmur, "for someone who says he’s too tired for anything but naptime, you sure know how to trap me under a warm blanket like you’ve got an agenda."

Narin gasps, actually gasps, his hand flying to his chest like you accused him of a crime.

"Excuse me?! I’m a sweet, innocent papa trying to get his hardworking wife to nap! How dare you-"

You trail a finger down the curve of his waist, slow enough to make him shiver.

"Mmhm. Innocent, huh? That why you keep wearing those silk pajama pants around me like you don’t know what they do to my self-control?" You gave the side of his hip a firm swat.

Narin’s cheeks go red immediately, cherry blossom red.

"Th-they’re just comfy! And breathable! And postpartum-friendly!” he stammers, clutching Mylo like a tiny shield. "Besides, I-I don’t control how good I look in them, okay?!”

You smirk against his neck. "Sure you don’t."

He lets out a tiny squeak, torn between wanting to argue and silently bask in the fact that you’re still that into him, he keeps fussing over, and the fact that he hasn’t done his skincare routine in two days.

You hum against his skin, and then, without warning, press a slow, deliberate kisses to the side of his neck. Just below his ear. Right where you know it’ll make him flinch and curl his toes.

Narin freezes.

You feel his whole body tense in your arms, his breath catching in his throat like a cartoon character short-circuiting.

"H-Hey… hey-C-coco…" he whines, his voice high and wobbly. “You c-can’t just-! I’m holding the baby!"

Ignoring him, you kiss him again softly on his neck, biting in between.

His head tips back against your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted in surrender.

“You missed me?” he breathes out.

You grin. "Of course...so much, my doll...."

Another kiss, this time to his cheek, and then one right at the corner of his mouth. His fingers curl tightly around Mylo’s blanket like it’s the only thing keeping him from completely melting.

You finally press a rougher kiss to his lips full of passion to shut his quiet whining. He doesn’t even move at first, just sighs into it like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, letting you bite and suck his pouty plump, fruity lips.

When you pull back, he’s blinking up at you with that dazed, heart-eyed look.

"…Okay," he says, dreamy and breathless. "Maybe I do have an agenda."

Damn right he always did, from the moment you stepped in the house, with your sleeves rolled up and the loose tie.

But of course, this little vixen of yours would see your child as a perfect tool to manipulate you. Like, duh. As if groveling to him alone wasn’t humiliating enough, now you’ve got two people to apologize to: one with dramatic eyeliner and the other in a fluffy cat onesie. And honestly? It scares you. The way Narin can just pack a bag and threaten to take Mylo to his parents’ place the second he’s mad. You’re never sure if he fully understands the kind of hurt that leaves behind, or if he does, and simply doesn’t care. It only took one real scolding from you, one sharp, serious reprimand, for him to shrink back, eyes wide and glistening, murmuring apologies with shaking hands. He hasn't dared to do it again since. Not openly, at least. But deep down, he’d been a little pleased. Pleased to discover a weakness in you. That just by giving you a son, he’d carved himself into your life so deeply that no matter how angry, how exhausted, how heartbroken you got... he’d always be a permanent fixture. You weren’t just his love now. You were bound.

🍭You unlock the door, stepping in with tired shoulders and your work bag slung low. The house smells like baby lotion, leftover pasta, and ....suspicious amounts of drama.

Silence.

Too much silence.

Then you spot them, curled up on the couch. Narin’s in his robe, hair up in a little bun, Mylo nestled in his lap with his tiny face squished against his father’s chest.

Narin doesn’t even look at you.

"Oh," he says. Flat. Chilly. "Look who decided to come home."

You blink. "Babe, I told you I had a late meeting-"

He holds up a hand, still not facing you. "No, no. You don’t get to ‘babe’ me right now. We had plans. Mylo and I were going to watch that cheesy prince movie together, and I made themed snacks. Themed, COCO! Do you realize the effort in that?!"

You try to step closer, but he scoots dramatically to the side, shielding Mylo’s ear like he’s protecting a witness.

"Don’t talk to him," Narin says in a stage whisper. "He doesn’t want to hear it. Do you, Mylo?"

Mylo just hiccups and chews on Narin’s robe tie.

"That’s right," Narin murmurs, leaning down conspiratorially. "She abandoned us. Left us to suffer. Alone. No goodnight kisses, no evening cuddles. And we looked so cute today too, didn’t we?"

"Narin-"

"Shh." He gently taps Mylo’s lips with a finger. "Don’t say anything to her, baby. Silence is power."

"You are coaching our son against me again?"

Narin gasps theatrically, clutching Mylo to his chest. "Cover your ears, baby. She’s using the Voice. That rough, work-weary, tempting Voice that ruins our boundaries."

Mylo lets out a giggle.

Narin gasps. "Traitor."

You try not to laugh as you make your way to the couch and lean over, kissing both of their foreheads in one go. "I’ll bribe you both with cookies and twenty minutes of undivided attention if you forgive me."

Narin narrows his eyes.

"…Fifteen minutes of forehead kisses."

"Deal."

"Only cuz', you are hot."

You grinned. "I know."

He slides you a smug, victorious grin while Mylo coos and shoves his foot in your face anyway.

Great coaching, no doubt.

[jaeyuniism]

୧ ‧₊˚ imagine babying ni-ki ⋅ ☆

a/n: idcidc ni-ki is not nonchalant 💔 this is heavily inspired by @purinfelix so thank you to them <3

— wc : 343 — drabble —

ni-ki’s never been too particularly fond of appearing vulnerable—especially in front of you. but behind closed doors, it was a completely different story. that’s exactly why he was leaned back in his chair, arms crossed with a stubborn pout adorning his beautifully crafted face. “ni-ki, what’s wrong?” you question from your bed. your eyes were still glued to your phone screen, and if you were being honest, you knew. you knew exactly what was wrong with ni-ki, but you wanted him to say it. recently, his schedule with the boys had been packed, with the new comeback coming up. today was one of his few days to rest, and he was exhausted. but being the big baby he is, he refused to show it. however, the cute little tired lines and dark circles under his expressive eyes told you enough: he was exhausted. “nothing,” he huffed, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. “c’mere riki,” you coo, finally putting your phone down to let him into your arms. he stays put for a moment, but his resolve finally shatters and he’s up and in your arms in less than a second. you pull him into your lap, your fingers gently pushing his head against your chest as you drape a blanket over your bodies. you’re all wrapped up now, legs tangled, his face smooshed against your collar bones. at first he tries to act unaffected, claiming he’s “just resting his eyes” when his lashes threaten to meet, but the way he whines when you shift ever so slightly gives him away. you can’t help but swoon at how comfortable he looks laying flush in your arms. your thumb traces the curve of his jawline, all the way down to his plump pouty lips. he places a soft kiss against the pad of your thumb, his cheeks flushing a warm shade of pink as he does so. the sight is enough to make you melt. “you’re my baby, okay?” you coo, as he nuzzles into your neck, mumbling. “you always baby me,” he sounds whiny—bothered, even—when he says it, but the way he leans into your neck tells you he's anything but bothered. “because you let me,” you whisper into his hair, and he only hums in response, squeezing your waist even tighter. 

m. list

[writtenapoiogy]

cw: marijuana usage, oral (m receiving), & talk of sex

satoru was cocky that's just ingrained in his personality.

he would bet actual money that no one could roll up a blunt or even a joint better than him.

you wanted to test him just a little, "i bet that you wouldn't be able to finish rolling up if i gave you head while you did it."

he perked up at the idea. "oh? is that a challenge?"

"mhm. if you come or tap out before you finish, i win and i get whatever i want. and if you finish rolling before you come, then you win and you get to pick whatever you want your prize to be."

he smirked, "okay, deal. now seal it with a kiss."

you rolled your eyes at him before you leaned in and placed a hot kiss to his plump lips.

satoru was sat on your bed leaning against the headboard. you had just freed him from the confines of his sleep pants. your hand was wrapped tight around his hard cock. you pumped him lazily till you saw a few spots of precome spewing from the tip.

"mmm." he moaned as you licked a stripe from base to tip. you had your eyes zeroed in on him—you wanted to see his every reaction.

his eyes rolled into the back his skull when the wet heat of your mouth finally engulfed him. his hands slowly pulled the blunt away from his face when he was mid lick.

a chuckle fell from deep within your chest—reverberating on his dick. you felt a small sense of pride at the falter in his resolve.

satoru's eyes shot open immediately and he got back to work on finishing his mission. it was gonna take every thing in him not to say fuck the blunt and just fuck your throat.

while you worked on finishing him.

you pulled out all the stops and yet nothing was breaking his ambition. a small whine or moan would leave his lips but he never stopped rolling.

with one last final lick to secure the blunt, satoru came with a low moan as he bottomed out in your mouth touching the back of your throat.

you swallowed and pulled back. you were met with his eyes hanging low and a devilish smirk on his face. “all done.” he held out the blunt that was a little jagged and bumpy.

you wiped the side of your mouth, “that is the worst blunt i’ve ever seen you roll.” okay, yeah, maybe you were being a little salty.

“hey!” he frowned before a smirk found goes features again. "since i won i know what i want."

"mhm. and what's that?"

"i want you to ride me while i get this started for us, baby." satoru leaned back and placed the blunt between his lips. his hands then found your hips and helped you straddle him.

an: sorry for errors :*

[innie-belle]

Oh yeah

*slams fist on table*

I have thoughts about MarkGemmas saying that she’s part of the love triangle, and that MarkHellies are trying to “push her out of it.” I’ll be very real right now, she’s not in one.

For two Seasons, there was a slowly built love triangle, and it was Mark x Helly x Helena.

They went through a full arc together.

Starting in Season 1:

- Helena catching their kiss.

- Helena observing Mark (solo) on the security cameras. Pausing the footage and looking at him longingly.

- Mark and Helly spend the season developing their bond and also expressing interest in their Outie selves’ lives.

Examples: Innie Mark asking Helly if she “lives alone” on the outside.

Basically asking if Helena single.

A very popular example: Helly joking about being married to Mark (or Mark Scout) on the outside. You can clearly see how much she loves Mark and that she’s picturing an entire life with him.

And this is as early as Season 1.

In Season 2, the triangle ramps up more:

- Two corners of it have sex.

- Helena opens up to iMark.

- Helena Eagan and Mark Scout meet and feel an instant pull.

- Helly R and Mark S navigate their way through a hurdle and come out stronger.

All of this results in Mark S choosing Helly in the end, knowing and accepting that she’s Helena.

He even spent 1-2 weeks with her (which is months in Innie time) before sleeping with her. Out of his own free will.

Based on his behaviour in Season 1, it’s not even a stretch because he is interested in all of this woman and just wants to have a life with her.

—

Anyways… that’s the love triangle. It’s solved.

The only part that needs to be solved next season is Mark Scout. It’s 3/4 resolved.

You might notice how I haven’t mentioned Gemma but it’s because she was introduced in 1x07 as a picture and had a flashback episode in 2x07. She didn’t get any active development in this love triangle. She wasn’t there.

There’s Mrs. Casey but Mark S shot that down when he told Helena “I didn’t feel anything for her, we’re not like that.” And he was being honest.

Confirmed by Ben Stiller, Adam Scott and Dan Erickson. Plus, the finale itself.

I rest my case.

[twistedheartsclub]

Ink-Stained Promises Dark Levi X Female Reader PT2

⚠️ Warnings: Non-con | Dubcon | Emotional manipulation | Power imbalance | Older man / younger woman | Obsession | Sexual coercion | Psychological abuse | Physical violence | Threats | Blackmail | Potential pregnancy concerns | Guilt & trauma aftermath | Yandere themes | Parental distress

Part One Here

The front door clicked shut behind her.

Y/N stood in the entryway, still wearing the oversized hoodie Levi had given her to leave in. Her hair was tied in a loose knot. Her shoes felt too tight. Her breath came too fast.

The house was quiet.

She slipped off her shoes and padded down the hall.

Her room looked untouched. Clean. Familiar. It made her stomach twist.

She walked into her bathroom, flicked on the light, and stripped off the hoodie like it was on fire. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—red marks along her hips, faint bruises at her thighs, her lips still raw from being kissed too hard.

Her fingers trembled.

She stepped into the shower and turned the heat up until it burned.

She scrubbed her skin raw.

But it didn’t help.

An hour later

Wrapped in a towel, her skin blotchy and red, she curled on her bed and stared at her phone.

There were so many messages.

Madeline:

omg are you alive?? what happened?? you just disappeared did he take you?? what the hell Y/N this isn’t funny

Madeline (again):

say something. please. i’m freaking out. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. I’m so sorry.

Then more texts. From classmates. Friends. One from an ex-boyfriend, weirdly. A message from her mom asking if she made it home.

She answered them all. Short. Polite. Detached.

Finally, she tossed the phone on the nightstand and laid back.

Her hair was still damp. Her limbs heavy.

She felt hollow.

And then—

A knock at her door.

Soft. Familiar.

“Y/N?”

Her father.

She sat up too quickly, wincing from the ache.

“Yeah?”

He stepped inside.

Erwin Smith looked tired. His shoulders were slumped. But his eyes were kind, even as they narrowed.

“I thought I heard you come in earlier.”

She nodded, brushing damp hair out of her face.

“You didn’t say anything.”

“Sorry. I was tired.”

He looked at her a long moment. His eyes lingered on her face. Her posture. Her towel-wrapped body. The way she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Finally, he stepped closer and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Y/N,” he said gently, “what happened?”

She froze.

He continued, voice lower. “You look like something’s wrong. Like something bad happened. I know I’ve been too hands-off lately, but… I can’t ignore this.”

She stared at the floor, throat tight.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asked.

Her chest caved slightly. A soft whimper slipped out before she could stop it.

“Sweetheart.” He moved closer, but not too close. “Was it someone I know?”

She looked at him, eyes glassy. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

His face shifted—tense, still. But patient. “Okay. Take your time.”

She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

Then—barely audible:

“Levi.”

Silence.

Her father didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. He just sat there, stone-still, as the name settled in the room like a curse.

Y/N’s shoulders shook as she whispered, “He took me home. I thought I was safe. I didn’t know what to do. I—I didn’t fight hard enough.”

Erwin’s jaw locked. His hands curled into fists.

But his voice was calm.

“You don’t have to blame yourself,” he said.

“I let him think it was okay,” she whispered.

“No,” Erwin said firmly. “He made you think that. There’s a difference.”

She looked at him then—really looked.

And she saw something terrifying in his eyes.

Resolve.

The room felt too quiet.

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, the towel wrapped tight around her still-damp skin. Her eyes were red, her nose raw from wiping tears with her sleeve. Erwin sat beside her—still, quiet, trying to breathe through it.

She hadn’t stopped crying since she said his name.

Levi.

The man Erwin trusted more than anyone. The man who had been in their home. Who’d known Y/N since she was a toddler. Who had promised to protect her.

And he’d broken her.

“I shouldn’t have gone out,” Y/N whispered.

Her voice was small. Distant.

“I shouldn’t have drunk anything. I shouldn’t have worn what I did. You were right, Dad. You always said I wasn’t ready for nights like that. And I—I didn’t listen.”

Erwin closed his eyes, pain slicing across his face.

“Sweetheart—no.”

“I didn’t say no,” she said. Louder this time. “Not loud enough. I just… froze. I didn’t know what was happening until it was happening.”

Her lip trembled. She folded her arms around herself like she could disappear.

“I let him think it was okay,” she whispered. “So maybe it was my fault.”

Her father’s hand gripped the edge of the bed so tight his knuckles turned white.

“Don’t say that,” he said. “Don’t you dare say that.”

She didn’t look at him. She stared at the floor, unfocused.

“I was drunk,” she whispered. “And he knew it. But I didn’t say no. Not with words. I just—I cried a little. I asked him to talk to me. But he wouldn’t.”

Erwin swallowed hard.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to find Levi and end him. But his daughter was crumbling in front of him. And he had to be still.

He reached for her hand. She flinched. But let him take it.

Then, quietly:

“Did he… use protection?”

Y/N blinked. Her lip quivered again.

“I don’t know.”

She sounded so broken. So small.

“I was drunk, Dad. I don’t even know when it happened. I just… woke up sore. In his bed. I think I remember his mouth. His hands. But I don’t remember everything. I just—”

She sobbed, curling forward.

“I just wanted to feel safe again.”

Erwin pulled her into his chest.

She didn’t resist.

She sobbed harder against him, shaking, clutching his shirt.

And all he could do was hold her.

Hold her and think about the man he once called brother. The man he’d trusted with everything. The man who would never breathe freely again.

Not after this.

The bell above the shop door didn’t jingle.

Erwin didn’t let it.

He pushed through the entrance with controlled force, the door slamming back hard enough to rattle the frame. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly. The smell of ink, latex, and sterilizer filled the air.

Levi stood at the back counter, wiping down his tattoo machine.

He didn’t look up.

“Didn’t expect you tonight,” he said calmly, like they hadn’t spoken since before.

Erwin walked straight up to him. Close. Towering.

Levi didn’t flinch.

“You’re going to tell me what you did to my daughter,” Erwin said, voice low and shaking.

Levi set down the machine and finally looked up.

Their eyes locked.

No more pretending. No more jokes.

No more friendship.

“I took her home,” Levi said simply.

“You drugged her.”

“No,” Levi replied, firm. “She drank before I got there.”

“You manipulated her.”

Levi’s jaw twitched. “I protected her.”

Erwin’s voice cracked. “You touched her.”

Silence.

Then—

“I claimed her.”

Erwin’s fist flew.

It cracked against Levi’s jaw with a sharp thud. Levi staggered back half a step, blood already in his mouth—but he didn’t fall.

He looked up. Smiling.

“Finally,” Levi muttered, wiping his lip. “There he is.”

Erwin went for him again—tackling him into the counter. The sound of glass and metal crashing to the floor filled the shop. Levi slammed a knee up hard, knocking Erwin back, then swung.

Erwin’s head snapped to the side. Blood flew. But he kept coming.

They were a mess of fists and fury—old soldiers in a new kind of war. Years of trust shattered in seconds. Years of secrets coming to the surface.

Levi caught him hard, flipping them.

And suddenly—

Erwin was on the ground.

Levi straddled him, one hand around his throat, the other pressing a knee to his chest.

Breathless. Shaking. Ferocious.

“I should kill you,” Erwin growled.

Levi’s grip tightened.

“I could kill you,” he hissed. “Right now.”

Erwin didn’t blink.

But Levi didn’t move.

Instead, he leaned down.

Voice low. Intimate.

“But if you do—who tells your wife what happened in Prague?”

Erwin stilled.

Levi’s smile was razor-thin.

“Or the campaign funds you rerouted in ‘09. Or that visit to the wrong side of the city, the one that never made it into the logs?”

Erwin’s face was red with fury.

Levi leaned in closer, his voice a whisper.

“I didn’t want to use it, old friend. But you don’t get to come in here swinging like you’re clean.”

He let go.

Erwin coughed hard, rolling onto his side, gripping his ribs.

Levi stood. Calm again. Composed.

“I didn’t rape her,” he said simply.

“You broke her,” Erwin spat.

“She’ll come back to me,” Levi said. “She always does.”

Erwin pushed himself up to sitting.

Levi crouched in front of him, voice quiet but final.

“You raised her to be sweet. Obedient. Gentle. You never taught her what to do with someone like me.”

He stood again, walked back to the counter, poured water into a glass.

Then, without turning around:

“She’s mine now. You need to accept that.”

Erwin didn’t answer.

Not with words.

But his silence promised vengeance.

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

Y/N sat at the kitchen table, wrapped in her robe, hands curled around a mug of tea she hadn’t touched. Steam rose and faded. Her eyes stayed fixed on the countertop, unfocused, as if she could disappear into the cracks in the woodgrain.

The light through the kitchen window felt wrong. Too bright. Too warm. It made her want to shrink.

She hadn’t slept.

Not really.

The scent of Levi’s sheets still clung to her skin no matter how long she stood under scalding water. Her thighs still ached. Her lips still felt bruised. And her mind—her mind was stuck in that in-between space. Where something awful had happened, but it hadn’t screamed loud enough to be called violence. Only left her quiet. Dazed. Shattered.

“Sweetheart?”

Her mother’s voice was soft from the doorway.

Y/N blinked slowly, forcing a small smile.

“Hey, Mom.”

Her mother frowned, walking over, brushing a hand down her daughter’s back.

“You didn’t answer my texts last night. I almost called Erwin.”

Y/N shook her head quickly. “Sorry. My phone died. I stayed at Madeline’s.”

Her mother paused—just for a moment—then nodded.

“Everything okay?”

Y/N hesitated.

Say something.

But her voice was barely a breath. “Yeah.”

Her mother gave her a lingering look. Then kissed the top of her head.

“I’ll be in the garden if you need anything.”

Y/N nodded. “Okay.”

She sat there for a long time after the door closed. Watching her tea cool. Watching the light shift across the floor.

Then her phone buzzed.

She didn’t want to look.

But she did.

Levi:

Did you sleep okay, sweetheart?

She stared.

Levi (again):

I missed you.

And finally:

Your father and I had a good talk. He understands now. Don’t let him scare you. Come back to me when you’re ready.

Her hand shook as she locked the screen.

She set the phone down like it might burn her.

Her heart beat too loud.

He wasn’t going to let her go.

Not now.

Not ever.

Time Skip – One Week Later

Erwin had been different since that night.

Quieter.

Softer with her. Firmer with the world.

He made her tea in the morning. Sat beside her when she couldn’t sleep. Didn’t press when she flinched away from touch. And when Y/N asked—quietly, tearfully—that they not tell her mother yet…

He nodded.

And never brought it up again.

But the silence in the house was heavy.

The tension made the walls thinner.

And Y/N hadn’t slept through the night once.

She woke up most nights clawing at the sheets, gasping for air. Sometimes it was the weight of him—Levi—on her chest, his mouth against her skin, hands pinning her down while she whispered no but didn’t scream it. Other times, she was back in the car, stuck in the passenger seat, Levi’s voice smooth and calm as he promised not to hurt her—as long as she behaved.

Her throat always felt raw when she woke.

She stopped wearing skirts.

She stopped sketching.

She stopped looking at herself in the mirror.

Sunday Afternoon

Madeline’s Apartment

Y/N sat curled up on her best friend’s couch, oversized hoodie hanging off her frame, her hands wrapped around a mug she hadn’t sipped from.

Madeline sat across from her, legs tucked under her, face serious.

“I thought he was just hot,” she said softly. “Grumpy-hot. The way you used to talk about him… I thought you’d know if he crossed a line.”

Y/N blinked slowly.

“I didn’t even see the line,” she whispered.

She shifted, as if preparing to run—then froze.

And said it:

“He took me home that night. I was drunk. I should’ve gone with you. I thought he was just being protective.”

Madeline didn’t breathe.

Y/N’s voice cracked.

“He didn’t yell. He didn’t tie me up. He just told me what I’d done. What I made him feel. He said I wore the wrong thing. Said I let people look at me. He pulled my skirt up and said I asked for it.”

Tears slid down her cheeks now.

“He was angry—but calm. That’s the worst part. I kept thinking he’d stop. I kept thinking maybe if I didn’t fight, he’d just finish and let me go.”

Madeline covered her mouth with both hands.

Y/N continued. Her voice was hollow.

“He said it was for me. That it was what I needed. That he was showing me I wasn’t a child anymore. And I didn’t scream. I didn’t kick. I just cried, and he wiped the tears like it was something beautiful.”

She shook her head, hands trembling.

“I didn’t say no loud enough. I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t move.”

Madeline slid off the couch and crawled over, pulling her into a hug. Y/N stiffened—but then melted, her whole body collapsing into sobs.

“I’m so sorry,” Madeline whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

They sat there on the floor, shaking, holding each other.

And for the first time since it happened—

Y/N didn’t feel entirely alone.

The Next Day | Madeline’s Apartment

Madeline handed her a warm towel and a change of clothes after Y/N’s shower. The old, oversize hoodie she wore for days was finally peeled off. Her skin was pink and damp. Her face was clean, but her eyes were still tired.

They sat side-by-side on the bed in silence.

Madeline spoke first.

“You should go see someone.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

“A doctor,” she continued, voice quiet. “Just to check. Your body. And… maybe talk to someone after that. Someone who knows what to say.”

Y/N’s hands curled in her lap.

“I don’t want to explain it again.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll go with you. You don’t have to say anything. Just… exist in the room.”

Y/N swallowed hard.

“I’m scared of what they’ll find.”

Madeline reached for her hand.

“I’m scared of what he’ll do if we don’t.”

Y/N walked the quiet sidewalk near her neighborhood with a grocery bag in hand—simple things: tea, a snack for her dad, tissues. Her mom was out with friends. Erwin had offered to go for her, but she insisted.

She needed to move.

The sun was low, warm across her shoulders. The cicadas hummed in the trees. Everything felt… normal. For a second.

She stopped beside a garden wall, set the bag down, and sat on the edge of the stone planter. Closed her eyes.

Inhale. Exhale.

She could breathe out here. Alone.

Safe.

She didn’t hear the footsteps.

Didn’t feel the shadow until it was too close.

“You look better in the daylight.”

Her eyes flew open.

Levi.

Standing two feet from her.

Hands in his pockets. Calm. Like he always was before the storm.

Y/N’s body went cold.

She stood slowly, voice caught in her throat.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

But he took a step closer.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said softly. “That hurt, sweetheart.”

Her hand reached for her phone—but he was faster.

He grabbed her wrist.

“I said don’t.”

His grip was tight. Not violent. But final.

“Let me go,” she said, panic rising.

“I was going to,” he murmured. “Eventually.”

She tried to scream—but his other hand covered her mouth.

And just like that—

The grocery bag fell.

Oranges rolled into the street.

And Y/N disappeared into the shadows with him.

The sound of her breathing was muffled against his palm.

Y/N kicked once—weak, desperate—but Levi caught her easily, pushing her back against the brick wall of the alley just off the street.

“Shh,” he whispered, his voice smooth against her ear. “You’ll only make this harder.”

She sobbed against his hand, her eyes wide with terror, nails clawing at his sleeve.

“Stop,” he said, gently. “You’re not hurt. You’re just scared. And I can fix that.”

He reached down with one hand, opening the passenger door of his car, and in a single practiced movement, shoved her inside.

Y/N scrambled across the seat, but he was already there—closing the door, locking it, sliding into the driver’s side like this was any other evening.

Like he was just taking her home.

The car rolled forward.

She sat frozen, body trembling, tears running silently down her cheeks. She didn’t speak.

He did.

“You shouldn’t have walked alone,” he said casually. “Your father wouldn’t like that.”

She turned to him, voice shaking. “He knows. He knows what you did.”

Levi’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel—but only briefly.

“I know,” he said. “And now he also knows that saying anything would ruin a lot more than just me.”

She looked away, horrified.

He continued, softer now.

“You had a bad dream, sweetheart. You overthought things. You got scared. But now you’ve had time. And deep down…” He glanced at her. “You know you belong with me.”

Y/N stared out the window, tears falling harder now.

She didn’t answer.

His Apartment | Twenty Minutes Later

The door opened with a soft click.

Levi stepped inside first, setting his keys down.

Y/N stood on the threshold—motionless.

The same space. The same couch. The same floor she’d laid on while he stripped her bare.

Her legs wouldn’t move.

“Come in,” he said, still turned away.

She didn’t.

His voice dropped. “Now.”

She flinched—but stepped forward, her arms curled tightly around herself.

He closed the door behind her. Locked it.

She turned slowly to face him. “Please don’t do this.”

Levi stepped closer.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “Unless you force me to.”

Her lip trembled.

“I’ll scream.”

He leaned in. “And what would you say? That you came here willingly? That you’ve been with me already? That you climbed into my bed and cried into my mouth while I made you mine?”

She broke down then—silent, shaking sobs, her body curling inward.

But she didn’t run.

She didn’t fight.

She obeyed.

“Good girl,” he whispered, brushing a tear from her cheek.

And she let him.

The house was too quiet.

Levi made her tea.

He handed it to her like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t pulled her off the street, dragged her into his car, locked her inside his home.

“Drink,” he said gently. “It’ll help you sleep.”

Y/N sat on the couch, legs curled beneath her, eyes swollen from crying. She took the mug with both hands, just to stop them from shaking.

He sat beside her, close enough that his thigh touched hers.

“I know this is hard,” he murmured. “But you’ll see it my way soon.”

She didn’t speak.

“You always do.”

Her throat burned.

She stared down at the tea. Didn’t sip.

He leaned in, brushing a kiss against her temple. “You’re safe now.”

That word—safe—was a lie.

She let the tears fall silently this time. He didn’t notice. Or he did, and chose to see them as gratitude.

That night, he laid her down gently. Tucked her beneath clean sheets. Kissed her forehead. Brushed the hair behind her ears.

“You’re mine again,” he whispered.

She lay still.

She didn’t cry this time.

She didn’t scream.

She only stared at the ceiling—counting breaths, searching for cracks in the walls, measuring the distance from her body to the door.

And somewhere between heartbeat twenty and thirty…

She started thinking about how to survive.

She didn’t come back.

Erwin paced the length of the kitchen, his phone pressed to his ear for the seventh time. Her number rang, then cut off.

Madeline hadn’t heard from her either.

The bag of groceries she was supposed to bring back hadn’t made it home.

And his daughter—his child—was gone.

Again.

This time, Erwin didn’t go to the police.

He went to the back office in his study. Unlocked the drawer he hadn’t touched in years. Pulled out a phone without a number registered to his name.

He dialed.

The man on the other end picked up after one ring.

“Erwin.”

“I need you to find her,” he said, voice like iron. “And I need you to help me make a man disappear.”

A pause.

Then: “How messy can it get?”

Erwin’s eyes were dark.

“As messy as it needs to be.”

Levi’s Apartment | The Next Morning

She didn’t cry anymore.

There were no tears left.

Levi had touched her again the night before. Taken her. Held her down while whispering sweet things she didn’t hear. Kissed her like it was a reward—for him, not her.

She had whispered “please.”

She had said “no.”

But he’d only kissed her throat and told her to relax.

And now?

Now she just did what he said.

She dressed in the clothes he gave her. Sat where he told her to sit. Ate what he put in front of her.

Silent. Empty. Compliant.

He noticed, of course. How quiet she was. How still.

He thought it meant she understood now.

That she had finally accepted what they were.

“You’re learning, sweetheart,” he murmured that afternoon, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I knew you’d be good for me.”

Y/N nodded.

Because what else was there to do?

If she obeyed, maybe he wouldn’t hurt her.

If she stayed quiet, maybe this would be over soon.

Levi – That Night | 2:14 AM

The burner phone buzzed twice—no ringtone. Just vibration.

He woke instantly.

He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Y/N. She lay curled under the covers, a doll in his sheets, her breathing shallow. Her wrists tucked beneath her chin.

He padded into the kitchen, flipped the phone open.

UNTRACEABLE.

The message read:

Someone’s asking around. Cameras flagged your plate. You need to move. Now.

Levi stared at it for a long moment.

Then smiled.

Of course Erwin wasn’t going to sit still.

He put the phone down slowly. Poured a glass of water with steady hands.

His reflection in the microwave caught his eye—tired, lean, sharper than he’d looked in years.

This was the version of himself he used to bury.

The one who disappeared people for money.

The one who didn’t blink when blood hit his hands.

For Y/N?

He was willing to be that man again.

He turned off the lights.

Walked back into the room.

And stared down at her sleeping form.

“You shouldn’t have made me do this,” he whispered. “But you’ll see, soon. It’ll all make sense.”

Levi – Late Night | His Apartment

He moved silently through the space like a man prepping a crime scene.

He packed methodically—only the essentials. He folded two of Y/N’s sweaters, a pair of jeans, clean underwear. A toothbrush. Her sketchbook, tucked carefully into the side pocket of the duffel bag.

He laid a bottle of pills beside it—mild sedatives, fast-acting, tasteless when crushed. Leftovers from an old stash.

She wouldn’t fight.

She wouldn’t scream.

She would just sleep—until he had them somewhere no one could reach.

He dialed a number from memory. No contacts saved. Just silence on the other end.

Then—

“Levi.”

“Need a clean ride. No plates. Quiet exit.”

A pause. Then:

“How soon?”

“By tonight.”

“Where?”

“Old route. First safehouse.”

“…Copy.”

The call ended.

He stared at the wall for a moment longer.

Then turned toward the bedroom.

Y/N was still asleep—barely. Her lips moved slightly. Whimpers.

She dreamed of him often.

He wasn’t sure if that pleased or unsettled him.

Maybe both.

He walked to the kitchen, stirred a powder into a glass of water, and brought it back to her bedside.

Gently, he touched her cheek.

“Wake up, sweetheart. You need to drink something.”

She blinked blearily. Sat up slowly.

Her voice was dry. “Why?”

“You haven’t had enough water. You’ve been quiet all day.”

She took the glass, hesitated—then sipped.

He smiled. “Good girl.”

Smith Residence – Same Night

Her mother stood in the doorway of the study, arms crossed.

“You’ve been different,” she said. “Since that night she came home.”

Erwin didn’t look up from the file he wasn’t reading.

“Y/N’s been through a lot.”

“She won’t talk to me.”

“She doesn’t want to relive it,” he said.

“But you know something.”

Silence.

“You’ve stopped looking me in the eye,” she whispered. “Erwin, what aren’t you telling me?”

He finally looked at her. And for a moment, just one flicker, she saw it—fear.

He stood slowly. Crossed to her. Took her hands.

“I’ll fix this,” he said.

“That’s not what I asked—”

“Just trust me.”

But she didn’t.

Not anymore.

Levi – Dawn Approaching

He stood at the edge of the bed, watching Y/N sleep, her limbs heavy, her breathing slowed.

Her lashes fluttered. She’d be out for hours.

The bag sat by the door. Car arriving in thirty minutes.

By the time Erwin figured it out, by the time the mother stopped asking questions—they’d be ghosts.

Gone.

“Almost done,” he murmured.

He bent down. Kissed her forehead.

“You’ll thank me for this.”

But inside her head, Y/N screamed.

She imagined the sound of her heels on pavement. The slam of a cab door. A stranger’s hand pulling her to safety. Sometimes, she imagined slicing his throat while he slept. Slipping something into his food. Using the knife he left on the counter too long. Shoving a pen through his eye while he rutted on top of her.

He moaned her name. Called her sweet. Gripped her hips like she was a gift sent to cleanse him.

But she wasn’t a gift.

She was a prisoner.

And he didn’t know that while he used her body like it was his, her mind stayed sharp. Planning. Watching. Counting.

That night, she laid on the bed, naked, silent.

Levi kissed her shoulder. Pulled her back against him. Whispered, “You’re being so good lately.”

She didn’t respond.

He liked that.

She let him fall asleep behind her.

And stared at the wall.

One day, she thought. I’ll get out. And when I do—I’ll bury you myself.

She woke up choking.

The nausea hit so fast she didn’t even make it to the sink.

She dropped to her knees beside the bed, retching into the waste bin, her stomach empty but still convulsing.

Her hands shook.

She barely heard Levi’s voice behind her. "Y/N?"

She wiped her mouth on her wrist. Didn’t look at him.

He crouched beside her, cool hands on her back.

“You sick?”

She didn’t answer.

Her heart was beating too fast. Too hard. This wasn’t nerves. This was her body. Turning against her.

Again.

He gave her a test later that afternoon. Quiet. Like it was nothing.

“You’ve been off,” he said gently. “Your body’s telling me something.”

She didn’t cry when she took it. Not at first.

She just sat on the edge of the tub, hands trembling, staring at the second pink line as it bloomed slowly, undeniably.

Positive.

She cried when he came back.

Silent, wet sobs as she clutched her robe closed and held the test out with a shaking hand.

His expression didn’t shift at first.

He looked at it like it was a loaded gun.

And then—

His lips twitched.

His shoulders relaxed.

“…Holy shit,” he murmured.

Y/N couldn’t breathe.

“I didn’t think,” he said, voice soft with wonder. “I mean—I didn’t even consider it. But—” He looked at her. Right at her.

And smiled.

“You’re having my child.”

She curled in on herself.

“No, no, no—”

He knelt in front of her, took the test from her hands like it was a treasure.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “You’ve given me something beautiful.”

That night, he spoke more than usual.

Not while touching her—but lying beside her, her back to his chest, one hand stroking her belly like it already held life.

“What if it’s a boy?” he said. “I’d teach him everything. Discipline. Strength. Purpose.”

He kissed her shoulder.

“A little version of me. But with your eyes.”

She stared at the wall, dead behind the eyes.

Her body wasn’t hers anymore. Not her days. Not her nights. Not her blood. Not her womb.

And he… was dreaming beside her.

A perfect future.

Made from her suffering.

Three weeks after the test.

He talked about the baby constantly.

Morning: “Sit down—don’t strain yourself. You’re carrying something precious.”

Afternoon: “I bought prenatal vitamins. I’ll leave them next to your juice.”

Night: “Do you think it’s a boy or a girl? I don’t care. Either way, they’ll have your kindness.”

She nodded. Smiled when she had to.

She said thank you when he handed her food. Let him touch her belly. Let him kiss her shoulder.

But inside?

She was counting everything.

Routine.

He left the house every three days.

Always between 9:00 and 9:30 a.m. Always gone for exactly 1 hour and 17 minutes. He said it was for groceries, appointments, errands.

He disabled the alarm before he left. Always. But he never gave her the code.

She memorized which floorboards creaked. Where the shadows fell at 8:00 a.m. Which drawer the keys lived in—and when he forgot to put them back.

She never made noise. Never searched while he was home.

But when he slept deeply—when he rolled away from her and snored just once—she opened her eyes.

And started to catalog the world.

He changed, too.

Not the rage. That still flickered behind his eyes sometimes. When she didn’t smile the right way. Or when she flinched.

But something softened.

He started calling her “mama.” Started buying books about babies. Started planning a nursery in a house that wasn’t even theirs.

He asked her what she wanted to name the child.

She said nothing.

He said, “That’s okay. I’ll name them. You’ve done enough.”

And then he kissed her. Gently. Like they were in love.

She stared past him, imagining how many seconds it would take to find the knife drawer if he ever turned his back.

The house was still a cage. But her brain was a blade.

And every day she watched him, she sharpened it.

Soon.

She would be ready.

Y/N – 9:05 a.m.

The front door clicked shut.

She listened to the second lock turn. Waited for the sound of his car rumbling off down the dirt path. Then she counted:

One minute. Two. Three.

She moved.

Barefoot, quiet, careful.

She knew how long she had—1 hour and 17 minutes.

She didn’t rush. She didn’t breathe loud.

She moved through the house like a ghost who knew every crack in the floor, every low cabinet, every weak point.

The back door?

Still deadbolted.

Windows?

Still barred.

But today, the front lock was different. It stuck when he shut it. Not quite flush.

She tried it gently—expecting nothing.

It clicked.

Not open. But loose.

Her heart beat so hard she thought she might pass out.

She didn’t dare open it all the way.

Instead, she tested how far the latch gave. Three inches. Enough to see sunlight. Trees. A sliver of sky.

A real chance.

She stood there, just breathing it in. The air. The life outside. It smelled like freedom.

She didn’t push it further.

Not today.

She just memorized the sound it made. How it dragged.

Then she closed it gently. Re-locked it.

Wiped away the sweat from her palms.

And walked back to the couch.

10:22 a.m. – Levi Returns

He entered carrying two bags—fruit, meat, prenatal supplements.

“Hey, mama,” he said with a soft smile.

She smiled back. A practiced one. Easy. Just enough.

“You were quiet while I was gone,” he said.

“I napped,” she replied smoothly.

He glanced around.

Everything was exactly as he left it.

Exactly.

“Good girl.”

She kissed his cheek when he handed her the strawberries.

He didn’t suspect a thing.

But her hands?

Still shook when he wasn’t looking.

Elsewhere – The Smith Home

Erwin stood in the backyard, arms crossed, staring at the horizon.

He hadn’t shaved in days. His shoulders looked heavier.

But his eyes?

Still sharp.

Still searching.

He worked every night at his desk—maps, traffic cams, erased license plates, threads of data no one else had connected.

He’d burned bridges. Called in favors. Paid off dangerous men.

But he hadn’t stopped.

Inside, Y/N’s mother watched from the window.

She wasn’t angry.

She was scared.

“You know something,” she’d said last night. “You’ve known more than you ever told me.”

He didn’t deny it.

But he hadn’t explained either.

And now she was starting to wonder…

What would he do when he found the man who took their daughter?

And what would be left of him afterward?

Three months. She was showing now.

Soft curve under the hoodie Levi gave her. He touched it every night. Whispered things to the child like bedtime stories. Promised the world.

But Y/N knew: the world would not be given. It had to be taken back.

She waited until a morning thick with fog.

Levi had left late. In a hurry. Phone pressed to his ear, mumbling something about a supplier. Distracted. Sloppy.

The front door?

Unlatched.

He didn’t slam it shut.

He didn’t set the second lock.

Y/N stood in the hallway for a full sixty seconds, staring at it.

Then she moved.

Her legs didn’t feel like hers. Every step was a whisper. Every floorboard a threat.

She reached for the handle, heart in her throat.

Turn. Pull. Open.

The door creaked.

She froze.

Waited.

Nothing.

Just wind. Trees. The open wild.

She stepped outside.

First breath of free air in months.

She almost collapsed from the weight of it.

But she ran.

Her shoes were too loose. Her body too heavy. Her breath too loud.

She stumbled through dirt, leaves, an old path that looked abandoned.

Her ribs ached. Her belly pulled. But she did not stop.

She didn’t know how far she ran. She just knew that when she finally dropped to her knees at the edge of a road—

A car stopped.

A woman stepped out. Mid-thirties. Blonde. Kind eyes. A nurse’s badge on her scrub top.

“Jesus Christ—are you okay?!”

Y/N could barely speak. “I—I need help. I need a phone. Please.”

The woman didn’t ask questions.

She helped her into the car. Turned up the heat. Handed her a bottle of water.

“You’re safe,” the woman whispered. “I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Y/N sobbed.

She hadn’t heard those words in months.

They stopped at a small town urgent care center. The woman insisted she be checked—especially with the baby.

Y/N couldn’t remember how many times she said thank you. How many times she said “I didn’t know if I’d make it.”

The staff gave her blankets. Food. A private room.

A nurse handed her a phone.

“Do you want to call your parents?”

Her fingers shook as she dialed.

The phone rang twice.

Then: “Smith residence.”

“…Dad?”

Silence.

Then— “Y/N?”

She burst into tears.

“It’s me. I got away. I got away—please come get me—”

She didn’t have to say anything else.

Erwin’s voice cracked for the first time in months.

“I’m coming.”

Later

She stood by the hospital entrance, wrapped in a donated hoodie, arms folded tightly around her belly.

The world felt too big. The light too bright.

But when the car pulled up and the door opened—

She collapsed into her father’s arms.

Erwin held her like he would never let go again. Like if he just wrapped his arms tight enough, he could reverse time. Fix everything. Protect her from what already happened.

She sobbed into his chest. Apologies. Shaky breaths. She couldn’t even say full sentences.

He whispered over and over, “You’re safe now. You’re safe. I have you.”

Her mother joined them seconds later.

She froze when she saw her daughter’s face—pale, thinner, different. Not just older. Not just pregnant.

Broken.

She hadn’t believed Erwin at first. Not fully. Not until now.

Now, she couldn’t stop shaking.

Y/N reached for her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you—”

Her mother dropped to her knees and clutched her waist, sobbing.

“We have you now,” she whispered. “That’s all that matters.”

For the first time in months—

Y/N let herself believe it.

The Cabin – 9:46 a.m.

Levi stood in the doorway.

The bed was cold. The bathroom door open. Her shoes were gone.

His mind didn’t move at first. It just… stopped.

He walked the house once.

Twice.

Found the door.

Unlocked.

Wide open.

He stared at it for a long time.

Then turned around. Walked calmly to the kitchen.

Picked up the mug she used last night.

Still had a ring of tea around the edge.

Still had her warmth.

He smashed it against the wall.

Then the lamp.

Then the chair.

He tore the sheets from the bed. Flipped the mattress. Tore the curtain rod out of the wall and screamed.

It was animal.

Ragged.

Too human to be sane.

She left him.

After everything.

After the baby.

She still didn’t understand what they had.

But she would.

He picked up the phone.

Dialed a number he hadn’t used in years.

“She’s gone,” he said, voice shaking. “I need eyes. I need legs. I need a leash.”

The man on the other end was silent. Then: “Is this about the girl?”

Levi stared out the broken window.

“No,” he said. “It’s about my wife.”

Y/N – Three Weeks Since Escape

The first time the doctor touched her stomach, she flinched.

It was automatic. Her body wasn’t hers yet. Every touch still felt like him. Like possession.

But the doctor was gentle. Kind. A woman. She explained everything softly, like speaking too loud might shatter the girl on her table.

“You’re around fourteen weeks. Baby looks healthy so far.”

Y/N nodded, numb.

Erwin sat in the waiting room. Her mother by her side, holding her hand.

When they left, she didn’t speak. But she held the sonogram photo in her lap the entire ride home—staring at the little blur of life growing inside her.

A part of him.

But also… a part of her.

That night, she cried herself to sleep.

She didn’t use her real name at the clinic. Didn’t walk near windows. Didn’t leave the house without her father or mother close by.

Erwin kept the curtains drawn. Changed their Wi-Fi. Burned letters that arrived without return addresses.

He didn’t say it aloud, but Y/N knew:

Levi was looking.

Sometimes she woke up gasping, hand on her stomach, certain she heard him whisper her name.

Other times, she caught herself staring at the knife block in the kitchen too long.

Not for him.

For herself.

But she never touched it.

She had someone else to protect now.

Levi – One Week Into the Hunt

He started with her old neighborhood.

Quiet. Calm. Too familiar.

He watched the house from down the street—binoculars, hood up, face changed by time and obsession.

He saw Erwin come and go.

Saw the mother take long walks with sad eyes and heavier steps.

But no Y/N.

Not anymore.

He searched traffic cameras. Paid off former clients for information. Tracked every online purchase tied to her father's alias.

Too clean.

They were hiding her well.

He smiled.

That only made the game better.

He visited the flower shop she used to like.

Took one of the pens she used to doodle with. Stared at the old sketch taped to the counter—one she drew for the cashier a year ago.

She was here. Once. She was soft. Open. Smiling.

He wanted that girl back.

And he would drag her back if he had to.

Y/N – Three Days Later

She started keeping a journal. Just to put the noise somewhere else.

“I feel her kicking already. Just a flutter. But real.” “Sometimes I wonder if she’ll look like me.” “Sometimes I hope she doesn’t.”

She didn’t tell her mom about the nightmares. She didn’t want to see her cry again.

She didn’t tell her dad about the journal either.

He was already too afraid of how quiet she’d become.

But she had to write.

Because it was the only part of herself that felt untouched.

Levi – Ten Days Later

He found a lead.

One of Erwin’s old contacts had gotten sloppy. A rental car paid in cash traced back to a halfway stop across the state line.

Security footage.

Y/N in a hoodie.

Pregnant.

Beautiful. Broken. Still his.

His hands trembled with rage and joy.

He knew what direction they’d taken.

He was close now.

So close he could taste her breath again.

Y/N – Small Town Shelter | Four Weeks Since Escape

The clinic was two towns over. Small. Unmarked. Private.

She always wore oversized hoodies now. Nothing clingy. Nothing that made the bump visible.

She walked with her mother, their hands laced together like they hadn’t been since Y/N was a child.

She hadn’t let anyone touch her for weeks after she returned.

But her mother? She waited. Gently. Quietly. Until one night, Y/N sobbed and crawled into bed beside her, whispering, “Don’t leave me.”

And her mother said, “I never will.”

At the clinic, the nurse smiled.

“Fourteen weeks and five days,” she said softly. “Heartbeat’s strong. Would you like to hear it?”

Y/N hesitated. Her hand curled instinctively over her stomach.

Then—she nodded.

The sound was fast, small, furious.

Like tiny wings thundering through water.

It didn’t make her cry.

It made her still.

Because for the first time… it didn’t sound like Levi.

It sounded like something else.

Something hers.

Back home, she helped her mom fold laundry.

She touched the baby’s clothing with both reverence and fear.

“I don’t know if I can love her,” she whispered.

Her mother looked at her. “You already do.”

Y/N shook her head. “She’s half him.”

“She’s half you too.”

That night, she wrote in her journal:

“I’m scared of being her mother. But I think I want to try.”

He watched the town from the ridge above the valley.

Quiet. Forgettable.

The kind of place you vanished in.

He’d narrowed it down.

She wasn’t using her name, but someone matching her build had shown up in the clinic logs under a false identity—referred by a nurse from another state.

That was enough.

He walked the street at dusk.

Dressed in gray. Hood up.

He passed the clinic.

Didn’t go in.

Just looked.

Imagined her lying on the exam table. Belly bare. The child he made thudding inside her like a secret drumbeat.

He whispered to himself in the car later:

“You’re nesting without me, mama.”

He picked up a onesie from a nearby market—neutral beige. Little bears on it.

He kissed it.

And folded it carefully into a bag.

Four Days Later

She went for a walk by herself.

It was early afternoon. Quiet streets. She needed to prove to herself she could do it.

Her steps were careful.

She stopped at a bench near the corner pharmacy. Sat. Rubbed her hand over the curve of her belly.

She whispered, “You’re not him. You’re not him. You’re not him.”

And the baby fluttered like she was answering.

Y/N smiled, for the first time in weeks.

Across the street, in a parked car, a man stared at her silhouette.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

It was her.

She was still soft. Still beautiful. But she was glowing now.

His. Carrying their child. Breathing air without permission.

He didn’t step out.

Not yet.

But he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“I found you,” he whispered.

Six Months Later

Y/N no longer flinched at every creak in the floor.

Her hair was longer now. Her stomach round and heavy. The baby rolled often—strong, present. Sometimes she dreamed the child was already born, dark-eyed and soft-skinned, curling against her chest in sleep.

Other times, she dreamed Levi’s voice was whispering lullabies to the baby before she ever got the chance.

But he never came.

Not once.

No letters. No threats. No shadows at the window.

Her father changed the locks twice. Her mother smiled more. They bought a crib.

And part of Y/N wondered—

Was he gone?

Had she imagined it all?

Had she broken free?

But far away—

Levi was working.

Not stalking.

Not chasing.

Building.

A modest house tucked into the hillside of a quiet European town, where no one asked questions, and cash was king.

A new identity. Dual citizenship. A midwife who made house calls. Supplies. Soundproof walls. Hidden cameras. A nursery with deep green walls and soft wool rugs.

He hadn’t written her. Hadn’t approached her.

Because he wasn’t going to steal her back into the past.

He was going to offer her a future.

He watched the headlines from afar.

Tracked clinic visits under aliases.

He knew the due date.

He marked it on a calendar.

Every day he whispered to himself:

“She’s almost ready.”

Y/N sat in the garden one morning, hands on her belly, breathing in birdsong and breeze.

She didn’t know it yet—

But she was living in the last days of her freedom.

And Levi?

He was almost done waiting.

[madman479r]

Hiccstrid: The seven stages of 🐓 shock

Hiccstrid wedding night

**Hiccup and Astrid kissing heavily, tearing at each others ceremonial wedding clothes.**

Astrid: **Straddles Hiccup on their bed** You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment.

Hiccup: **Joking** What? You've fantasised about us having sex for the first time?

Astrid: *dead serious** Yes.

Hiccup: W-what?

Astrid: Ever since I realised my feelings for you, I've imagined this moment, being atop of you, or you being atop of me. Visualising your face, whether it be flustered pleasure or lustfully hunger, with your eyes always being the same, filled with love as we finally join as one.

Hiccup: Astrid...

Astrid: And now, I don't have to imagine because I get to see it and feel it. **Reaches for his under garments but Hiccup grabs hed hands.** Hiccup?

Hiccup: **Nervous and avoiding eye contact** Astrid... I... I just don't want to disappoint you by my...

Astrid: Hiccup. I stood by your side for years because I love you, I married you because I love you. I don't care if its big or small, because your heart and mind is what won mine. **Leans down to Kiss Hiccup and trails kisses down his body until her face is level with his crotch.**

Hiccup: A-Astrid-!

Astrid: Shh. Relax, **Pulls down his underwear slowly** I want this. I want you. All of you. Big or sma- **Feels something thick hit the underside of her chin.**

STAGE 1: SHOCK

Astrid: **Wide eyes and jaw nearly touching the bed** H-Hiccup?! What the fuck?!

Hiccup: Gah! I knew it. It's too small.

Astrid: Hiccup, how in the ever living Hel is THAT small?!

STAGE 2: CONFUSION

Astrid: No, seriously, how have you hidden this?! How do you fucking walk with it?!

Hiccup: W-well, I- uh

Astrid: Wait. When we were making out that one time at the Edge and I said I felt something large poking me, you said it was the Dragon Eye... Was that your cock?!

Hiccup: I-I didn't want you to think I was a pervert.

STAGE 3: EVIDENCE GATHERING

Astrid: **Hesitantly wraps her hand around it**

Hiccup: Urf! A-Astrid...

Astrid: Freya- Hiccup, my fingers aren't touching. Its thicker than my axe handle. **Puts her forearm beside it** Its as long as my fucking arm...

STAGE 4: BARGAINING

Astrid: M-Maybe we should w-wait until I've gotten ready for this. Maybe if I talk to Valka, she may have some advice.

Hiccup: Why would we involve my mom?!

Astrid: Hiccup, I can only think of one man on Berk who'd have a cock just as big, and your mom fucked him. She'll know what to do.

Hiccup: I'd wish I had a small dick if it meant you didn't bring up my parents' sex life.

STAGE 5: ANXIETY

Astrid: Get it together, Girl. You're a Hofferson.

Hiccup: Pretty sure we just had a whole ceremony that changed you from a Hofferson to a Haddock.

Astrid: You've rode a dragon you just barely trained to fight a queen dragon. You’ve faced a screaming death without fear. You've trained a wild, hostile dragon while blind. You can do this! Then again, you done would you could to avoid being stabbed with claws, teeth and stingers, now you’re about to have THIS thing inside you.

STAGE 6: RESOLVE

Astrid: **Takes a deep breath and gains a look of determination that Hiccup fell in love with.** Okay. Let's do this.

STAGE 7: ACCEPTANCE

**Loud slapping noises and moans and groans coming from the Chief and Chieftess' home**

**Slap!Thwap!PlatPlatPlat!**

Astrid: **Bouncing on Hiccup’s cock** Oh, fuck yes! 💕💕💕

Hiccup: A-Astrid! *Barely keeping up with his thrusts**

Astrid: Oh, gawds! Its~ Tearing me apart! But I love it! I-Ah! Won't be able to- OH~♥️! W-walk after t-HISSSSS! GAWWW!

Hiccup: Astrid, you're so warm! NRG! And tight!

Astrid: No! Y-You're just- Ha~❤! Fucking BIG! Ha! Ah! AHHH~💕! E-even iF!-💕 I wanted t-to be unFAIthFUL- so fucking full~💓 n-no man w-would evER be able to FEEEEL MEEEE!♥️ HAAAA~💕! I'd- be too stretched OUT! By your massive FUCK meat!💕💓♥️

**Thwalp!Palp!Slap!**

[msnikkimoneypenny]

I'm sorry but that sex scene in My Stubborn is cringy knowing how it really went down in the book.

Spoiler alert

Jun is tryna figure out what kind what he likes sexually. And he isn't getting those answers fulfilled with Sorn with the kissing and hand jobs. So like in the show he goes to the club and sees Franz as someone who could make him see what he wants. Basically if he wants to be dominant in the bedroom or submissive. Top or bottom.

Sorn takes Jun home, Jun vomits everywhere. Sorn makes him shower with Sorn helping him. Placing Jun in a robe in his bedroom then Sorn showers to clean vomit off of him. Je comes out in just a towel to find Jun drinking again. Jun says a similar dialogue that was said in the show.

Therefore Sorn resolves to do it himself and removed the towel butt ass naked for Jun to admire. Sorn proceeds to scratch that itch Jun needs and starts to blow Jun much to jis surprise. It still ain't enough that itch is still there.

Getting condom and lube; Sorn slaps and spanks Jun's cheeks as punishment then bites his cheeks. Sorn makes Jun call him Hia. Jun finally relents and submissive calls him Hia. More teasing and prepping with Sorn telling Jun to call him Hia. Now Jun got a smart mouth amd pride. So June is like fuck you. I'll rather just find someone else to fuck me. Sorn sees red gets possessive and starts impaling Jun cuz he be damned if anyone else has Jun. They were missionary not cowgirl. Now is struggling to take Sorn. But on the show it looks cringy. He is scratching and tryna fight Sorn but Sorn holds firm.

Its a little hint here that Sorn likes to tease harass and torture Jun in their past. But now in the present Sorn wants to possess Jun. Sorn wants to see Jun cry from pouting and then turn around and be the one who makes it better.

So here Jun is panicking, scratching amd slapping at Sorn. And Sorn is soothing and holding firm to Jun while trying to keep Jun ignited in sexual passion aka keeping him turned on through the pain. And when Jun was finally ready, Sorn was keeping a rhythm that was shattering Jun. It was still painful as well as pleasure.

This is where the bite happens

Credit to Sand_Castle_BL from wattpad.

The bite itself almost makes Sorn bust a nut then and there. Sorn thought everything he was doing to Jun was enough to drag Jun to the edge and bust. But that bite makes him think it's Jun whose gonna push him to climax first.

Jun wants more telling Sorn faster. He opens his legs for more and ends up with his legs thrusted over Sorn's shoulders so that Sorn can go deeper.

Now here comes Sorn being an asshole demanding that Jun calls him Hia. Jun lost and vulnerable in pleasure says 'Hia Sorn' That 'Hia Sorn' sets Sorn off on his own high making him crazy; racing for his release. And Jun is stroking himself now. They both bust.

Jun finally realizes he tryna be a dominant and masculine all these years when he is really a bottom. He is fulfilled and found what was missing. Mr. Macho Man Sorn ask if that was it? What he was searching for all while cuddling Jun being all touchy feely in the afternoon glow. Jun says yes which makes Sorn all happy and glowing on the inside. Meanwhile Jun is having a wtf type of moment in his head. He did all this shit with Sorn of all people? What the hell. What the helly? What the hellyonce.

And here goes Sorn in his head happy that he made it happen for Jun. For the moment of clarity to hit for his pupil like a proud teacher. His fledgling is learning to fly. But Sorn jas to make sure Jun doesn't spread his wings flying to far away. So once again he says don't do this stuff with anyone else. And he threatens to spank his ass with a belt of he do. Sorn grabs Jun's ass to emphasize this which irritates Jun cuz his ass is already sore.

June tired. He falls asleep while Sorn checks him during aftercare for injuries. He woke Jun up carrying him to the bathroom to clean him up before allowing him to fully sleep comfortably.

And that's it for how it really went down

PS: The show just shows Sorn preparing breakfast. In the novel Sorn woke up early just to go buy food for breakfast while Jun was still sleep.

Oh it also says in the next day dialogue when Jun crashed and fell out of bed. That Sorn used plenty of lube/gel and went really slow. While henthoroughly checking for injuries, and if there were any injuries from them fucking Sorn would've immediately taken Jun to the hospital.

[angelickks]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 ۶ৎ bf!francisco "frankie" morales x controversially young gf!reader (𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+)

CONTROVERSIALLY YOUNG GF!READER is all lip gloss and sass, curled up in frankie's passenger seat humming to songs he doesn’t know, laughing at things that make him feel ancient yet when you look at him, it’s like he’s the only man in the world. your the line frankie morales knows he shouldn’t cross but already has, over and over, with shaking hands and a prayer caught between his teeth. and god he prays he deserves you. he knows he doesn’t. youʻre his second chance. his worst decision. his salvation. and if loving you makes him a fool, a hypocrite, or a selfishly sick bastard? then so be it.

you mix soft, sweet looks with just enough edge to keep people guessing. think baby tees with cherries on them, short pleated skirts, kitten heels or a perfectly heeled boot, oversized cardigans and tiny gold jewelry that says your name in cursive. you look like you just walked out of a trap set for older men with guilt complexes. (mission: successful.) vintage juicy couture. you have a collection of glittery handbags or tote bags that carry lip gloss, gum, travel size perfumes and absolutely nothing practical.

your perfume smells like sugar and summer fruit. you wear lip gloss that leaves a perfect print on his cheek, his neck, the rim of his coffee mug. “you leavin’ your mark on me again, baby?” damn right, you are.

you're always wearing that ultra shiny, sticky sweet lip gloss—the kind that tastes like something fruity. you reapply it while straddling his lap, eyes locked on his, and ask, “wanna taste?” he always does.

your aesthetic screams “messy,” but you're sharp as hell. frankie learns the hard way: just because you wear tiny tops and chew bubblegum doesn’t mean you won’t psychoanalyze him mid-argument and walk away with his soul in your purse.

your room is all soft bedding, a plethora of pillows, fairy lights, fluffy rugs, and discarded clothes. perfume bottles line the dresser next to your vibrator and a polaroid of you kissing frankie’s cheek. it smells like vanilla, and he swears he can’t think straight when he’s in there.

"you’re too young for me"—as he unzips your dress. frankie tries to keep things appropriate. he really does. but the way you look at him? the way you bite your lip when he’s talking? he knows he’s screwed. his resolve cracks like glass. "this is a bad idea," he whispers right before kissing you like a man starved.

friends give him shit—the guys call him a cradle-robber. he shrugs it off, but there's a flash in his eyes that dares anyone to take it further. because yeah, you're young, but you’re not stupid. you keep up. you challenge him. and no one knows how deeply you two get each other behind closed doors.

you test the boundaries, and he lets you—you wear his old t-shirts to bed. too long on you, slipping off one shoulder. you straddle his lap in private, call him "old man" with a smirk, and he growls, "careful, baby. you don’t know what you’re askin’ for." but you do. and he gives it to you.

protective with a capital P—he’s lowkey obsessed with keeping you safe. double-checks locks, watches you cross the street, walks you to class or work when he can. “text me when you get there. i mean it.” he’s not controlling, just always watching out.

quiet jealousy—he hates seeing guys your age flirt with you. he doesn’t say a word but his jaw clenches, his hands fist in his pockets, and later that night, he fucks the doubt out of you. slow, intense, lips at your ear whispering, “mine. say it.”

the age gap gets weaponized—you call him sir when you’re feeling bratty. or wear little skirts just to hear him say “you tryin’ to kill me, baby girl?” there’s power in how easily you can bring him to his knees.

It’s never just about getting off. even when it’s rough. hands pinning you, voice wrecked in your ear. there’s this reverence in the way he touches you. frankie loves like a man who knows what it’s like to lose. and now that he has you, he’s not letting go.

frankie nearly crashes his truck every time you show up wearing a crop top and little athletic shorts with his hoodie hanging off your shoulders. you always play innocent“what? it’s hot out.” while twirling the drawstrings like a threat.

phone full of sins—selfies. videos. voice notes. you send him pictures in the mirror, back arched, lip bit, captioned “wish u were here” he tells you to stop. you never do.

you act like a spoiled pillow princess. pink nails in the sheets, soft moans, all “please, frankie…”but you're a tease under that pout. pulls away when he gets close. giggles when he groans. until he flips you over and ruins you.

bedroom mirror chaos—you love watching. you'll ride him in front of a mirror, looking over your shoulder, pouting like a porn star. frankie’s losing his damn mind under you, hands bruising your hips, gritting, “you like seein’ how fucked out you are, huh?”

he watches your favorite shows even if he doesn’t get them. listens to your spotify playlists, reads your texts with emojis he doesn’t fully understand. he teases you for them, but he’s the one saving memes to send you later.

you make him laugh. really laugh. you pull him out of his darkness. when his ptsd creeps in, your presence is grounding. sometimes you just curl into him and run your fingers through his curls while he breathes you in like oxygen.

text mesages consist of—

"sweetheart, why did my entire truck smell like strawberries? there's also glitter littering the dashboard."

"how do u spell the sound u make when u nut"—"you're blocked."

"go put on pants before i drive over there"—"make me"

you guys have a bond that’s impossible to break, no matter how much either of you fight it. your arguments are heated, your attraction is magnetic, but when it comes down to it, you can’t resist each other. when you say, “you love me,” he grunts, too proud to admit it. until the next time you kiss him breathless, and he knows without a doubt: he does—you bring the fun, the chaos, the fire. he brings the calm, the steadiness, the grounding force. together, you balance out the extremes, creating a strange, beautiful harmony in a relationship built on trust, desire, and the perfect blend of opposites.

pedro pascal mlist!

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒: next up on the poll, one of my fav pedro characters. ugh ive been wanting to write for frankie for sooooo long. so naturally had to write him with an early 20s controversially young gf! with a nice 10-15 yr age gap, duh. lowk might make a couple of these typa headcanons for diff pedro characters

[shedpuns]

been too long since I've written let's have some fanfic written in the tumblr post box give it up for fanfic written in the tumblr post box

Undyne and Alphys watch mew mew kissy cutie together and don't quite manage to talk through their feelings. pre-canon.

Alphys has seen Undyne make a lot of faces, watching anime together on her creased old couch in front of her dented old CRT television. She's seen her go from tensely polite to curious to genuinely intrigued to unable to look away, seen her laugh and cry and rage at the screen. But they are finally, FINALLY, watching Mew Mew Kissy Cutie together, and she has never seen this face before.

Undyne is... afraid?

Her fins are flared wide and drawn flat against her head. Her hand (the one that wanders around Alphys' shoulders a few episodes into a marathon) is white-knuckled on a teacup she hasn't touched since the opening credits, three episodes ago. Her knee is bouncing like a jackhammer. Her eye is locked on the screen, pupil dancing over every frilly shoujo detail Alphys has seen a million times.

Alphys has never seen Undyne scared before. Undyne would surely tell her that she doesn't get scared. And scared of what? This show--the original, at least--is far from a horror show. The only horrifying thing about it is all these bits from the first season that haven't aged well, geez, someone have a talk with these losers in the writers room about consent, but Undyne's been willing to laugh off a crude joke before.

"U-undyne?" she finally asks, pausing a fight scene that she's seen in so many gifsets it practically plays behind her eyelids. "W-we don't have to watch this if you d-don't want to."

"Huh?" Undyne's face resolves itself into something of a frown. "Of course I want to watch it. This is important."

"I know it's my f-favorite, but if you really d-don't like it, then--"

"Like it? Why would that matter? This is a whole anime about that mind control thing. The power to make people do stuff. Like see, this Mew Mew Kiss--" She gestures at the screen. "What would you even do to fight back? One moment, you want to kick her ass, and then the next, she tells you to stop and you listen?! That's not fair!"

"I m-mean, it's actually f-fairly well balanced because if she misses the kiss--"

"But on other shows, they do it with their weird eyeballs, or just their words! How could I beat a human that just... forces me to give up? Or worse, turn on the people I care about!"

Undyne really likes imagining how she'd fare in matchups with the main characters of animes. It's basically become her number one hobby lately. "W-well, maybe your f-f-friends would talk you out of it!" She lets the scene unfold in her head. Undyne's dizzying strength would have been turned against her, maybe by the dark, edgy, Mew Mew from the remake series. Pinning her to a wall, eye clouded with someone else's anger, she would hesitate with their faces inches apart as she obeyed the cruel command. Then Alphys would cry out to her, claws scrabbling against the shaft of her spear, begging her to remember the time they spent together. Recalling her true, heroic, nature... She imagined Undyne's face softening, her eye widening as she realized what she was doing, and just as the horror started to hit her, Alphys would lean closer, chasing it all away with a kiss of her own...

Undyne seems less excited by the idea. "I'm stronger than all my friends. Even Papyrus probably couldn't beat me in a fight." She bites her lip. "Maybe D-- Asgore could knock some sense back into me. Remind me who my real enemy is."

Alphys tries not to let her disappointment show on her face. "I-I know you wouldn't t-turn evil, a-anyway."

"Evil, yeah, I'd never kill anyone just because some human ordered me to. But what if they used me as their bodyguard like Riu Riu here? I mean, why would they ever mess up and ask me to do something that's against my nature. That's obviously like the number one way that people break out of mind control. But what if it's not one big evil thing like trying to get me to betray my friends. What if it's just... I dunno, throwing a fight? Letting them get away?"

She taps her claws together. "W-w-what's so b-bad about it, then, if it's not a big deal?"

"Everything! I mean, I'm supposed to be killing them! It's like basically all I've ever wanted to do my whole life! And then, poof, I don't want to do it anymore, because of a stupid human's stupid powers!"

"I d-don't think that could r-really happen..."

Undyne gestures vehemently at the screen.

She is right, the idea of Undyne losing all her hope and drive at a human's hands does scare Alphys. She's just much, much, more scared of her losing her life at a human's hands. That's a much more realistic fear, anyway, not that she wants to open up that can of worms. "W-well... you have a really p-powerful, um, mind. I don't think a h-human could just d-do that to you. You're so p-passionate about your dreams."

"I dunno. Like, I used to be such an impatient kid... I used to think there had to be some way to do it faster. Do it without waiting for the seventh human to fall. Asgore's really the one who got me dreaming about... this." She gestures vaguely, spear-shaped bullets dancing over her fingers. "So probably all they'd have to do is get me to think I was still setting us free..."

"W-well, then you'd still have your dream, w-wouldn't you?"

"I guess? But like, in a twisted, fucked up, way where I'm just doing whatever the human wants!"

"U-undyne, I can't even get you to put a helmet on when you go on patrol. W-who says it'd be able to convince you of anything you don't want to do?"

"Heh. But seriously, you don't think Mew Mew could mind control me into doing whatever she wants if she fell underground?"

Alphys stammers. If they were really going by the rules of the anime, then yes, of course the Mew Mew Kiss would work on Undyne. But scaring Undyne in real life isn't what she had meant to do at all! And anime totally was a good way of studying humans, even if some of the specifics were made up, but she's pretty sure if she told Undyne that, she would realize that Alphys mostly sits around reading manga and watching anime rather than being productive, and she's not sure if they're good enough friends for that. Or if they'll ever be. She breaks out in a cold sweat imagining that conversation.

"See! Exactly! She totally would mind control me! And then who would protect you? Isn't that totally scary?"

"I-I'm r-really not afraid of it! I k-know you'd pull through and d-do the right thing. L-like, um..." She casts about for an example in the show. "O-okay, so there's this character in season three who actually t-totally, um, w-wait, that's spoilers, isn't it."

"Hmph. You really think I'm that tough?"

"B-believe it!" Alphys points at the sky the way a hero would.

"I want to believe you, but... it'll just hurt even more if I let you down." She looks at her feet, her face in shadows. "I need to be prepared."

Alphys casts about for anything to say. "W-well, maybe we can watch s-some more together? Y-you don't have to worry about it tonight, after all. A-and if you're scared, you could... h-h-hold my hand, maybe?" As soon as it's past her lips she starts sweating even harder, sure she's really fucked up this time, but Undyne just sets her mug down on the side table and takes her hand.

Something she can't quite read flickers over Undyne's face. "Sure! I mean, it's pretty cool, even if it would be scary if it happened to me. Like you can totally tell she's going to actually fall in love with Riu Riu for real and feel bad about using him as bait, right?"

"I c-can't just t-tell you! That's spoilers!" Alphys giggles, glad of the distraction. She can tell Undyne's not convinced, that she's still scared of getting mind controlled by an anime girl in real life. She knows she could wash all that fear away, but the feeling of Undyne clinging to her hand... she can't bear to wash that away with it. To ruin their friendship and leave Undyne totally alone. Isn't it better like this? Maybe she can convince Undyne to trust her own strength, or better yet, to dream of something better than killing a human. Something together, maybe.

So she stays quiet, and presses play, and watches Undyne more than the screen long into the night.

[justteddyq]

That hum from Faraday also affected Teddy's own resolve, gnawing at it with the temptation of going further and testing the limits of what these shadows could hide. How desperately he wished not to care about his neighbors' acceptance, to at last express all the want he was so used to bottling up.

It was the gambler's reply, in turn, which distracted Teddy. The thoughtful repetition of the question, like it was worth considering - and hopefully not that it hadn't been on Faraday's mind. An inhale snagged in his throat once more, as soft as that brush of lips on his neck. Teddy tipped his head back to welcome the contact, and couldn't help a little smile when more kisses followed. The way they built in urgency and desire, how they opened against his skin... He was thinking more of indulgence than gentility, though he wouldn't be opposed to the latter if it meant Faraday drew this out longer. Anything to have as much of the night together as sleep would allow.

Teddy bit his lower lip to muffle himself, as both hands were too busy clinging onto Faraday. Just that one graze of teeth lit up his nerves like a shower of sparks. 'A lot of things'... And good Lord, Teddy wanted all of them. He let slip a quiet fragment of a moan from the back of his throat at that firmer nip to his neck. More, harder - the unspoken pleas, or demands, or both, burned low in his gut. What a thrill just to imagine having to hide a few hickeys with his collar and kerchief in the morning.

Taking a deeper, shaky breath to steady himself when Faraday's mouth and hand retreated, Teddy was glad to see the other man at least didn't move too far. He wanted to hold on a few moments more, while he skimmed his lips against the gambler's just before the latter spoke. Teddy already had an offer in mind, even before that smirking addition. He was too caught up in the compassion of the sentiment to banter back, answering with utter earnestness and a clear glimmer of hope. "Then come stay the night. My house ain't too far; just enough that we don't gotta stay quiet." Another brushing tease of a kiss. "I wanna know what all you'd do."

Sure, the hotel was closer, but still way too public for comfort. Whatever they got up to, Teddy didn't want to be scared the whole time.

The wordless, throaty sound from Faraday was already a thrill, one which melted down low to stoke those earlier embers with that extra pressure. Teddy let out another exhale through his nose, welcoming the weight of being pinned between Faraday and the wall, from hips to chest. And all the while, his tongue strove to follow and mirror the other's, grasp tightening just a little at the drags of that callused touch over his neck and collarbone. Only the dim recollection that they were in public, despite the shadows, kept Teddy from unfastening the buttons himself. He craved anything Faraday would give him, keener than starvation.

When their kiss finally broke, Teddy could feel his heartbeat in his own lips. The realization tugged up a small smile amid his quiet panting, kept there by the other man's whispered praise but gentled by the melancholy in the sentiment. It only faded when overcome by sheer want and anticipation, while Teddy's head tipped up slightly to give that teasing mouth more room. His next breath shook in its escape, mind spinning with what could come next, and what any of those might lead into, until he had to close his eyes for a long blink.

Teddy only managed the start of a soft chuckle before he was biting his lip, to muffle his hum at the delicate attentions to his ear. His back arched, as much as it could in what little room it had, after that gentle yet distinct pinch of teeth on his earlobe. Blunt nails skimmed over Faraday's scalp, and Teddy had to swallow hard before he could manage a softspoken reply.

"What if I do feel it, but I still want ya to show me? Would you?"

[lvminisciel]

🤗🤗

ive just spent the last 6hrs goin thru every piece of media from 'the phantom of the opera' and all i can say is

WHY IS IT LIKE THATTT

why's the ending like that??? be it the one from broadway theatre dated back in 1988, or the musical in 1986, the movie from 2004, even in the original novel by Leroux himself, none of them ends with a closure of the phantom's acceptance..

i hvnt watch the 1925 silent film version tho; but so far i think i like the og novel version best

personally i spite the 2004 version so much as in tht one, christine clearly stated tht she's afraid of the phantom (as uttered in the song 'Twisted Every Way') while it's never been told that way in the novel/broadway/other versions

on the og novel tho, despite christine still married raoul in the end, he still returned to bury the phantom during his passing, the last thing phantom had asked before they parted. she fulfilled her promise, and put the ring(?) he gave her to be buried w/ him.. truly the best ending of all version me thinks

overall i loved the parallels of night & daylight imagery. of heaven & hell, beast & beauty. also the part where she said 'he sings inside my mind'? imo it can be interpreted in many ways

[spacedlexi]

the way the ericson group were at the outbreak just a bunch of troubled kids who made various mistakes or committed crimes and were judged by a system that punished and abandoned them instead of giving them the support and love they needed, are then nearly a decade later put into a situation where now they must judge a troubled child for the mistakes and crimes hes committed against them. and 5 to 3 vote them out 😭

[schrodingersbobby]

sometimes yall write fic concepts that if that we're me would not end in a happy ending getting together it would end with me getting sent to prison

[dangaer]

shi.n's amnesia later route is such an out of character experience bc wdym someone this cute shows me all the love they have for me and i dont healthily communicate with him that im feeling overwhelmed by it.

[wayfinderships]

Everytime I see M.elia I get overwhelmed by how gorgeous she is👉👈 I love her hair and eyes! And her wings! Especially those! With permission, I'd love to gently touch them! I bet they're really soft!

[eddiezpaghetti]

going off of your BEAUTIFULLY worded post(s) about byler being inevitable and treating queer characters with respect, do you think they will explore byler's sexuality with a sex scene or just keep it to a kiss? Or perhaps another kind of scene?

Honestly...I don't feel like a sex scene is likely? Not because they're too young or anything. There have been sex scenes between people Will and Mike's age on the show before--thank you Steve and Nancy--so that wouldn't be the issue. Nor do I think it would be an issue with them being a queer couple.

My prediction--and I could be wrong; this kind of depends on how the rest of the season goes with regards to the main action plot--is that Will and Mike are going to get together at a climactic moment. Maybe leading up to the final clash or during it. And sex scenes really need time to breathe. Steve and Nancy had sex at the beginning of Season 1. Jonathan and Nancy had sex in the middle of Season 2. They had time.

But I think, if the writers waited until the final season of the show to make this couple canon, it's because it's important. Not a romantic subplot, but plot. I think, in some way or another, the romantic plot and the action plot are going to be intertwined, and they're going to climax together. You know, like they're having SE-- There'd just be no comfortable place to fit a sex scene at the height of the action. Like, imagine trying to fit a Lumax sex scene when they're in the attic at the end of Season 4. It just doesn't go there. They got the cute little doodle scene instead.

I very much think Mike and Will are going to kiss, though. I'd be shocked if they didn't.

So basically what I'm saying is...I feel like Byler is going to be too important for a sex scene to happen. I could see a scene early on portraying some sort of sexuality, particularly from Mike's side, to show to the general audience that something is happening, that it's not just one-sided. For instance maybe they'd have to change clothes in the same room for some reason, a la Joyce and Hopper in S4, and Mike would look just a little too long before turning around. But a full-blown sex scene...probably not?

The more specific stuff like this gets, of course, the harder it is to predict, so I'm a little less certain about this prediction than Byler simply being canon, but, yeah, gun to my head? Kiss, absolutely. Sex, probably not.