#as usual i cannot give a short answer to anything

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

We Hug, We Never Used To Do That

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65106655

Damian makes a mistake and chooses Jason’s apartment to hide out in. He has no idea about the date.

In honour of it being Jason’s death anniversary the other day have this fic i’ve been working on for a year.

please heed the trigger warnings

panic attacks

dissociation

description of violence and death but none in the actual fic

blood ig

also thank you @heavenssolitude for beta reading this for months 🥰

————

Jason doesn‘t really expect the baby bat to break into his apartment at 2 a.m., but here they are.

The kid is still dressed in his Robin costume.

“Todd I… I didn’t think you would be here,” he says softly. Jason crosses his arms.

“This is my apartment. I should be asking you what you’re doing here.”

“You are usually at one of your safe houses.” Damian is wringing his hands, drawing Jason’s attention to the dark stains clinging to the green gloves. He eyes them suspiciously.

“Okay, and? Answer the question.” Jason isn’t one to feel nervous, but neither is Damian.

“I cannot go back to the manor tonight.” The kid says it like he’s admitting to a horrible secret. The hand wringing has turned into a scrubbing motion. Jason takes the silence between them as a chance to study Damian. He’s drenched from the rain and hunched in on himself, giving him the complexion of a stray kitten. The hood of his cape is blocking out his face and Jason notices more red stains around the costume.

Now listen, Jason may be more in the ass-kicking industry than the detective one, but it didn’t take much of his Bat-training to figure out what has happened. He takes a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling as if begging a god he doesn’t believe in that this isn’t happening.

He really hates doing the whole big brother thing. Especially on today of all days.

Jason decides to take pity on the kid. He makes a beckoning gesture, and leads him into the bathroom, where he grabs a shirt and a pair of shorts with a drawstring.

“Wash up. Then we’ll talk about why you’ve run away.” Jason says and points at the shower. He closes the door behind him and heads to the kitchen to make them both something to eat.

A few minutes later he gets a call. It’s from Bruce. If Damian coming here thinking Jason wouldn’t be home tells him anything, it means he wants to be left alone.

“Hey B, how’s old age treating—“ “Jason, have you seen Damian?” He sounds stressed.

“Nope.” Jason says, popping the p, and then pokes his head into the bedroom to make sure Damian is alright. “I don’t know where he is. You oughta get a backpack leash or something.” At this point he’s basically a professional at lying to the Bat.

“Why? What did you do?” He hears Bruce sigh.

“I didn’t do anything. You always assume I’m the problem.” Jason rolls his eyes.

“Okay, well if you didn’t do anything, what did he do?” He hears Bruce sigh again. This one sounds more tired, but not the kind of tired you can just sleep off.

“I...I don’t even know what happened if I’m honest. Someone was killed tonight.”

Jason sucks in a breath. Dang it, he was right. “A criminal, one of Crane’s. But still, he’s dead. The only proof I even have of Damian being there is his sword, but we can’t find him.” For all his credit, Bruce does sound really worried. Whether it’s because his son is missing or because his son just killed a man, he’s not too sure.

“Yeah, whatever, B, I don’t know where he is.” He lies again. If Damian doesn’t want anyone to know where he is, then that’s his business.

He hangs up the call and goes back to making food. It’s nothing special, just grilled cheese, but that’s mostly because Jason hasn’t gone grocery shopping yet. He hasn’t had the energy to.

“Who were you talking to?”

He almost jumps when Damian speaks. He turns to see him and slightly softens at the kid he’s met with. Damian is wearing his obscenely large clothes, his hair is wet and down. He actually looks like a normal kid. You would never look at this Damian and suspect he killed a man today.

Jason plates the grilled cheese.

“Your dad.” Upon seeing the look of terror that flashes over the kid’s face, he adds, “I didn’t tell him where you were, but he did seem worried.” Damian fiddles with the towel and looks down at his feet. Jason takes it from him, hands him a plate and leads him to the couch.

They eat in silence until the food is all gone. Damian still hasn’t said a word about what has happened, but Jason has a feeling he knows what’s going on inside his head.

“B isn’t gonna throw you out, ya know.”

The kid's head shoots up to look at him. His green eyes are wide.

“He told me what happened, or at least what it looks like happened. He sounded worried, not mad.”

Damian huffs. “That is because he doesn’t know what has happened yet. He will be disappointed and send me back to the League when he finds out.” He says it with such a serious tone, like he was stating a fact.

“What happened, Damian?” The latter looks away from him, curling up into himself in a way Jason has never seen him do.

“It was an accident. There were so many of them. I used my sword just to get some of them to back away. I made a mistake in my counting.” Damian looks up at him with the most honest eyes. “He took me off guard and I acted instinctively. I couldn’t even try to save him. It was truly an accident. Just an unforgivable one.” He looks back down at his hands as if the blood is still there. “Father will—“

Jason cannot stand the wobbles in the kid’s voice.

“Bruce isn’t sending you away. It was an accident.” He reaches out for Damian’s shoulder, but he shrugs him off.

“He will keep me until he finds out it’s my instinct to kill.” He says darkly. Jason huffs out a laugh.

“Kid, if Bruce doesn’t already know that, then he needs to step down from the title of the World's Greatest Detective. You were raised by assassins for the first ten years of your life. Of course killing is instinctual.” Damian still looks unconvinced. Jason pulls him in against his chest. “And even if he tried to send you away, which he won’t, there’s no way Dick or anyone is gonna let him. That, I can promise.”

Damian finally relaxes in his hold and reciprocates the hug.

It’s about an hour later when they’re both disturbed by Jason’s phone blaring. He slides an arm out from around Damian and picks it up.

“Hey, Dickface.”

“Jay?” He sounds wrecked. “Jay, if Dames is with you, I need to know.” His voice wobbles and cuts off like he’s trying to stifle a sob. Jason sits up, causing Damian to slide off him. The younger one gives him a strange look.

“Thought you were supposed to be in ‘haven tonight.” Jason doesn’t know what to say. Dick sounds terrible, like he’s been crying for hours. Damian pulls on his arm and signs ’speaker’? Jason doesn’t reply verbally, but not a second later Dick’s voice is audible.

“I—I was but B called me and said he couldn’t find Damian and—Oh god, it’s been an hour.” His voice turns into a whine and he again covers his mouth. “I need to know if he’s okay, Jay. I keep imagining him stuck somewhere cold and scared and I can’t—I can’t. I promise I—I won’t tell Bruce, just please—please Jason I need to know.” Their big brother is begging on the other side of the phone. Jason turns to look at the younger one and the kid looks devastated.

“I’m here Richard.” He says softly. A gasp and a sob come through the phone.

“Oh thank god.” There’s a thud and a slide sound, and Jason can only imagine it’s Dick sliding down a wall to sit on the floor.

“Okay—Okay. Are you hurt?” Dick asks, his voice still breathless and wobbly.

“I am uninjured.” Damian waits a beat. “Are you well, Richard?” Dick lets out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“I think I've had about three breakdowns since Bruce called me. I wasn’t really having a great day to begin with.” He chuckles sadly. “Not that it’s your fault, Damian, I’m sure you had a good reason to run. Don’t feel guilty for my reaction, it’s just been a crazy week.” He’s getting quieter as he speaks. Jason and Damian share a look.

“Okay, two things, Blue, one, you should’ve called me sooner. Don’t call me after you’ve had three breakdowns. And two, where are you right now?” If his brother is having a post-panic attack induced adrenaline crash, he’d like to know he’s not in some alleyway somewhere.

“M’ at one of your safe houses. Was looking for Dames. It’s the one above the bodega.” He’s slurring in a way only a person who’s about to pass out can. Jason gets up and grabs his keys.

“Okay, I'm coming to get you.” He’s almost out the door when he turns to Damian.

“Don’t open the door for anyone. There’s a gun under the couch and a kitchen full of knives if you need them.” And then he leaves before Damian can even get a word in.

He isn’t quite sure what to do while Todd is gone, so he looks around the apartment. It is a small one-bedroom. The kitchen, living, and dining are all one space, all carpeted except for the slightly yellow-stained tiles in the kitchen. He brings their plates to the sink and begins to wash them when he hears a noise. A click sound and then a slide.

Damian backs further into the kitchen. Someone has just opened one of the windows in the living room. He opens the drawer with the knives, pulls one out and holds it close to his chest.

“Jason, you asshole! Where are you?!”

Damian knows that voice anywhere.

“I know this is your apartment, so come out! Damian is missing, and I've lost contact with Dick.” Drake says. Damian hears him open the bedroom door and walk around before coming back out. He sighs and sits on the couch.

“God, what is happening? Three out of three brothers are missing. Why can’t I find them?” The last words are muffled as Drake covers his face with his hands. Damian peaks out of the kitchen to look at his brother, who is curling up on himself.

Damian had no idea that people would be this worried. Yes, he suspected Grayson would be worried, because when is Grayson not worried?

But Drake? He’d never suspect Drake would go out of his way to recruit Todd into finding him. He begins to feel a bit guilty.

“Todd is collecting Grayson from one of the safe houses.” Damian starts as he steps out of the kitchen. Tim shoots up from his spot on the couch.

“Grayson had a panic attack while searching, so Todd went to get him.” Damian doesn’t even get a warning before he’s suddenly being swallowed up by Drake’s arms.

“Oh god Damian, I’m so glad you’re alright.” He speaks quietly, as if Damian would disappear again if he spoke too loud. The younger one hesitantly wraps his arms around Tim’s body. He cannot remember the last time they hugged like this, or if they ever have.

Damian can feel Tim trembling and the guilt he’s feeling doubles. “I am sorry, I never meant to cause such distress in you or in Grayson.” He says quietly. Tim releases the hug and rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tick.

“It’s okay, not ideal but I think we all get a bit jumpy in April.” He laughs nervously.

Damian makes a face and looks at Tim. “April? What happened in April?”

Before Tim can reply, a voice from behind him answers.

“I died in April,” Jason says from where he’s standing in the doorway. He’s carrying Dick on his back. “That's why Big Bird here lost his shit. Well, that and his terrible luck with good places of employment,” he adds thoughtfully. Jason throws his keys onto the bench and carries Dick to the bedroom.

Almost in a trance, Damian walks towards the small electronic clock on the wall. He sees the date.

As of two hours ago, it was April 27th.

Damian feels a little sick. Not only had he forgotten his brother’s death anniversary, but he had made everyone re-live a part of it.

Not even two days ago now, there had been an Arkham escape. One of the escapees was The Joker and he was yet to be found. Damian feels terrible for reminding his family of such a time.

A time when Father lost a son and would blame himself.

A time when Grayson lost a brother he had only just come to know.

A time when Pennyworth lost a grandson and his only cooking partner.

A time when Drake would step up not only for Gotham, but for Father as well.

And a time when Todd lost his life.

He has to wonder if The Joker is laughing right now.

He stands there staring at the clock, breathing heavily until a hand claps his shoulder.

“Don’t worry too much about it, Baby Bat.” Jason smiles at him. It’s a tired, weary smile. God, how terrible it must be to be reminded of your own death.

“Where is your phone?” He still feels as though he can’t breathe.

Jason looks at him weirdly. “Why?”

“I must call Father. I have to let him know I am well!” He says frantically and reaches out for Jason’s pockets. He feels so selfish. Jason’s right, Father would not send him back to the league for a mistake. He needs to contact him right away.

“Okay, okay! Here!” Jason pushes away Damian’s panicky hands and hands him the unlocked phone. He takes it and, without thinking, fumbles his way onto the fire escape before pressing call.

“Jason have you—“ “I'm safe, Father.” He doesn’t let Bruce get a word in. “I’m sorry for worrying you, I've been at Todd’s apartment the whole time. But do not get upset with him. I was the one who didn’t want him to tell you. I now know just how selfish that was especially with the date…”

There’s a moment of silence. “You’re at Jason’s apartment?”

“Y—yes?”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Damian doesn’t get a chance to answer. He stands there, clutching Jason’s phone.

Was… was Father mad? Did he sound mad? He can’t remember.

Damian feels like he might be sick. There is a possibility that Jason could have been wrong and that Father might still send him back to the league. Maybe he had jumped the gun calling him like that. He pulls the phone closer to his chest and begins to rock on his feet.

Toe. Heel. Toe. Heel. ToeHeel. Toeheeltoeheeltoe—

“Damian? Did you call Bruce?” Jason pokes his head outside, interrupting Damian’s spiral.

“Yes. He will be here soon.” He replies numbly. He’s not sure if the numbness is better than the nausea.

“Here? Aw, shit.”

“Sorry.” He’s not sure he feels sorry, actually he’s not sure he’s feeling anything right now. If anything, he feels like he’s floating.

Damian thinks Jason says something, but he misses it and is only met with Jason holding his hand out. Damian goes to hand him his phone, but that isn’t what Jason wants, as he just rolls his eyes and grabs Damian’s arm.

“C’mon, Bluebird is up and he wants to see you.” Jason drags the kid by the arm back through the door. He pushes Damian in Dick’s direction and walks past them into the kitchen. Jason watches them from his place, leaning against a counter.

Dick immediately scoops Damian up in his arms, hugging him tightly. They’re whispering to each other, but Jason can’t hear it. All he can do is think about how he can’t remember if Dick ever treated him like that before he died.

Dick pushes Damian’s hair away from his forehead and places a kiss there. It only causes the jealousy swirling in Jason’s chest to expand. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to imagine what it would have felt like.

He tries not to let the jealousy show, he looks down at his feet. Damian needs that comfort—deserves it, even, and Jason is glad he has someone like Dick to give it to him. But, damn, if he doesn’t yearn for that type of affection. He yearned for it when he was Damian’s age and he yearns for it even now and especially today.

Jason tries not to think about how much he wants it. He tries not to think about it when Bruce all but breaks down his front door. He tries not to think about it when Bruce doesn’t even acknowledge the three other people in the—in Jason’s apartment and heads straight towards Damian, scooping him into his arms.

He tries not to think about how much he yearns for affection like that with Bruce or anyone really. How if maybe he’d reunited with him differently, if—if he hadn’t been so angry maybe their relationship would be different now.

But it wasn’t and Jason had been angry—furious even. He ruined it. Ruined it. No one will ever love him like that. He deserves it, not the love he’ll never deserve that, he deserves the crushing pain and loneliness in his chest. He deserves the—

A pair of familiar boots step into his line of sight. Jason jolts and looks up. Bruce is now standing in front of him with a small smile.

What? Wasn’t he just talking to Damian?

Jason looks around the room to see that Damian, Dick, and Tim, are now outside on the fire escape. It’s just him and Bruce now.

“How are you, Jay?” There’s a softness to his voice that Jason hasn’t heard in a long time.

“I’m fine, old man.” He scoffs like he doesn’t know why Bruce is asking and tightens up his posture.

He must look pretty pathetic, a man as tall and big as he is, cowering against his kitchen counter.

“Well—“ Bruce begins and nervously moves his arms out wide. “You just look like you could use a hug.”

Jason’s heart stops and his breath hitches. Bruce looks so sincere and God, if this is a prank, he will never forgive him. He goes completely limp and lets Bruce—no, his Dad—catch him. Strong arms wrap around his body to keep him upright.

Bruce is warm and safe, and the feeling is incomparable to the half-side hug he got from Damian earlier.

As they both sink to the kitchen floor, Jason thinks maybe, just maybe, he deserves this.

[beansprean]

Hii!! Just wanted to ask how you get your poses on characters just flow so naturally? Is it like 2nd nature to you or does it take a really long time to get the poses right and natural? Bcs i've always struggled with that

Just wanted to ask since I really love the way you draw poses and perspective!! (Might be a weird complements but yeah sksnsksosj)

DJGGJHGIG ANON MY LOVE......YOU ARE SO SWEET

its DEF not 2nd nature lol ive been drawing for over 20 yrs now and still struggle with stiffness and line weight and foreshortening on a lot of poses. the best advice i have is to USE REFERENCES!! draw parallel to them, trace a sketch model over them to work off of, cut them up and splice them together to get closer to whats in your head, take photos of yourself, ask your discord friends with diff body types to show you their knees, etc etc etc.

@adorkastock is a FANTASTIC place to find both mundane and dynamic poses. I also recommend fatphotoref.com, publicdomainpictures.net, vishopper.com, line-of-action.com, and referenceangle.com as well as any free use stock photos.

(Protip: on image results on search engines, you can filter by creative licenses! go to the top of the results page; on google its under tools > usage rights, on qwant its under filters > any license, and on duckduckgo its in the 'all licenses' dropdown. u can choose 'creative commons' 'public domain' 'non-commercial' etc. This seems to help filter out AI results lol)

one thing that IS 2nd nature to me and i think helps put a lot of life into my drawings is that my sketch layers are very loosey goosey. when ur doing ur first sketch, dont worry about anatomy or anything, just doodle loose lines that have the shape/feel of what ur lookin for. THEN i worry about references/anatomy etc on a 2nd sketch layer, with my lower layer reminding me where to put emphasis and weight and what type of emotion/expression I was going for etc.

Its a lot harder for me to draw smth good without some kind of foundation, and a sloppy sketch layer gives me that AND lets me get out the idea quick and return to it later, while not feeling pressure to make it perfect! i tend to lose a lot of that whimsy and movement during the inking stage, which im still trying to figure out lol - but i think thats pretty universal? My example here is more cartoony so its less of an issue but you can see it a bit in the bend of the fingers and elbow.

Good luck on your drawing journey!!!! i hope this was helpful or at least interesting lmaoo

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Crazy, What You’ll Do for a Friend

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: After Hotch gets hurt out in the field, you and the other members of the BAU take turns taking care of Hotch at his home. Reader want to make sure she can help Hotch in whatever way she can.

CW: Hotch having an attitude bc of course he does, sex fantasy, needy!Hotch, oral m!receiving, fingering

a/n: Hotch is literally the master of flirting when he isn’t at work I cannot with him, this is more short and sweet than most my stories

This is the other Fanfic from the poll!

READ PART 2

title track 🎶🩹

~~~

Reid answered the door. Bright smile on his face greeting you, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you smiled back at him.

“Come on in,” Reid moved out of the doorway allowing you to pass by him. You waited in the entry way for Reid to close the door.

“How is he?”

“Uhm— good. Mad that we’re here,” he laughed awkwardly.

You cocked an eyebrow, silently. A few weeks ago, Hotch had gotten caught up in the line of fire. Getting struck in his thigh and stomach. Lucky to not have bled out on the field. The day was a harsh memory that you refused to let go. Making sure to never let anyone else make the same mistakes as him again. Never feeling weaker than seeing him in the hospital bed. The Team had all agreed to take care of Hotch while he was on home rest. Taking shifts throughout the weeks.

You followed behind Reid into the living room.

“What are you doing here?” Hotch gritted through his teeth. Only wearing some loose fitting sweat pants and a tight white t-shirt. A strong contrast from his usual suit and tie. Straining as he attempted to get off the couch by himself. Reid rushed over to him, lifting him by his shoulder. Hotch swatted at the Doctor, attempting to jerk away.

“We’re all taking turns helping you. Guess I’m on Hotch Duty for tonight,” you shrugged your shoulders, giving him a closed mouth smile.

Hotch’s brows furrowed tightly, vein on his neck popping. “I don’t need help. What I need is to get back to work,” Hotch pushed Reid away as he finally got to his feet. Reid threw his hands up in a defensive position still close behind your boss.

“Yeah, it really looks like it,” you rolled your eyes as you folded your arms over your chest.

Hotch shot a chilling look your way, but you were unwavering. “I’m still your superior—“

“And right now I’m your caretaker. I’m sure Reid has been letting you boss him around, but I’m not going to let that happen. No offense, Spence,” you stated. Spencer waved his hand up to let you know he was not offended.

Hotch’s hand gripped the arm of the couch with a bruising strength. Barely able to hold himself up properly. A slight shake to his body. Angry that you, of all people, were talking to him this way. Fighting the way his heart swelled as soon as his eyes laid upon you in his living room today.

You and Hotch had grown close in the last few years. Growing into a mutual unspoken want for one another. Casually flirting when you were alone or not at work. Keeping each other company on extremely late nights at the office. Getting closer than you realistically should, given the field you worked in.

“Reid, you can go,” Hotch did not break eye contact with you.

“A-Are you sure—“

“We’ll be fine, Spence,” you smiled eyes locked in on Hotch’s.

Reid grabbed his bag and headed for the door, “If you guys need anything I’m only a text away.”

“Thank you,” you said still not breaking with Hotch. His deep brown eyes made your heart skip a beat. The wrinkles on his face as he attempted to intimidate made you blush. Not speaking until the door closed behind Reid.

“Are you gonna have an attitude with me all night?” You teased, cheeks beaming with heat. Hotch blew air out of his nose. Skin tightly pinched between his eyebrows. Refusing to speak to you. “Oh, come on. Your favorite boy is gone, you don’t have to keep up the mean-mug,” you walked over closing the space between you. Extending your arm out to him so that he could brace himself to walk.

His jaw clenched. Stubbornness being a strong suit of his. Hesitantly taking your offer of help. “Where are we heading?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Hotch grumbled.

Slowly, you assisted him to the bathroom tucked away next to his living room. Standing in the doorway as you allowed him to shimmy himself over to the toilet. Not even thinking of what you were doing, until Hotch gave you a strange look.

“Are you wanting to watch?”

Your face flooded. Stammering as you cupped your own cheek. Shaking your head with closed eyes. Smiling awkwardly, “Sorry—“

Hotch had to fight the smile that dared creep across his face. Enjoying how flustered you were. You reached in to pull the door shut. Leaning against the wall directly next to the bathroom. Hands gripping your hair in embarrassment as you replayed the moment over and over. Trying to cool the heat in your cheeks.

Straightening your posture when you heard the door click open. Greeting him with a soft smile and your arm extended. His brows were still pressed together. Lips in a thin line as he hooked his arm around yours. Leading him back into the living room so that he could get comfortable.

The night slipped away. Preparing dinner for your boss as he sat at the counter. Dying to get up. Hating to be taken care of. Denying the comfort he felt with you nestled in his home.

“Hotch, I can hear you bouncing your leg, cut it out,” you did not even look over your shoulder to give him eye contact. He scoffed, the sound of his leg subsiding.

“I know you hate all this. Really I do,” you softly spoke to him as you plated the food, “But all of us just want to see you get better. We want our leader back in his best shape. I want you to relax and let me take care of you.”

Hotch’s eyes watched every move you made. Stalking you like his prey as you brought the plate over to him. Expression unchanging, “How am I supposed to relax? There’s cases and I’ve been away so long already. I can’t stay cooped up here forever.”

“And you won’t. The sooner you take it easy, the sooner you can come back,” you flattened your hand against his shoulder. Hotch’s expression softened with your gesture. Swiftly directing his attention onto the food in front of him. Something about the interaction caused your cheeks to warm up. Unsure what that was about. Walking over to his fridge.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“Just water,” Hotch took a bite of food.

“Aw, you don’t wanna crack open a bottle of wine and reveal our darkest secrets to each other?” You teased, looking over your shoulder at him. Seeing his brows pushed together. Lips in a strong, straight line.

“Okay— tough crowd,” you widened your eyes as you closed the fridge. Going to grab a cup out of the cabinet to fill it for him. Walking over and taking the seat beside him. Silently eating dinner together. Guess you did not have much to talk about. And he was clearly in no mood to chit-chat.

“You’re a good cook,” Hotch broke the silence with a compliment.

“You’re telling me Reid didn’t prepare you a four coarse, perfectly diet-balanced meal while he was here?” You teased. Finally, breaking away Hotch’s hard shell. A soft chuckle coming from him. “I’m sure he would’ve had a slideshow to explain it all too,” you grinned.

“He wouldn’t need the slideshow, he could explain it all to me himself,” Hotch joked as he pulled the food from his fork. Feeling comfortable for the first time together. Allowing both your walls down. Sharing in your laughter.

You both finished your dinner. Taking the plates and putting them in the sink. Allowing Hotch to walk on his own to put his away. Standing beside him the entire time. You interlocked arms with him to lead him into the living room. Grunting as he sat down, eyes closing as he rested his head against the back.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I’ll do whatever you need to relax,” you smiled, standing in front of him.

Something about that seeped into his imagination. Feeling his cock jump when an imagine of you kneeled between his legs popped into his mind. With everyone here, he had not had any alone time. Needing to let out some of the things pent up inside him. Your lips wrapped perfectly around his cock—

“No,” Hotch blurted out. Aggression returning to him. Catching you off guard and causing a bit of frustration to bubble up inside you. You scoffed and headed into the kitchen to do the dishes, “Don’t try anything while I’m in there.”

Once you disappeared around the corner, he relaxed again. Clicking mindlessly through the channels on the TV. Trying to distract himself. Looking down at his half-hard cock. Embarrassed that he was thinking of one of his subordinates in the way he was. Still he allowed himself to fantasize.

Imagining how beautiful you would look sat upon his lap. Straddling his waist as you sunk down onto him. Thinking about how you would sound moaning his name when the head would hit somewhere just right inside you. Dying to know how perfectly he would fill you up. He needed something— anything from you.

Allowing his hand to softly touch his aching member. Only making things worse for him. His face contorted as he squinted his eyes shut. Mouth hanging open slightly.

God, he was such a pervert.

Jumping when he heard the water stop in the sink. Footsteps enclosing on the room. In the time you had done the dishes, you had calmed down from Hotch’s outburst. Knowing and rationalizing that he was going through a lot and sometimes he would be more vulnerable than others. Greeting him with a bright smile. Grabbing your bag off the kitchen chair, “Do you mind if I go change?”

“Of course not,” Hotch breathed out.

“I’ll know if you strain while I’m gone,” you smirked.

Hotch grinned back at you. Watching you until you faded away into the bathroom, door clicking behind you. Thank God he had one of the best poker face’s around. Finally allowing himself to breathe.

His erection pressed against the soft fabric of his sweats. Driving him absolutely insane. He pondered if he would have time to rub it out before you got back from changing. Softly playing with himself as he thought. Groaning at the feeling of his fingers trailing his length. Trying to control his breathing as to not make any overtly sexual sounds.

Oh, God, how he needed it. His cock pulsed with pure desire. Something he did not think his hand alone could fill. He felt pathetic. Preparing to ask you what he was going to.

The door creaked open. You came back to see him still in the same spot as before. He looked over his shoulder, eyes widening when he saw you. Wearing a loose fit t-shirt and some sporty shorts. Hair relaxed and quite a bit of skin showing.

“Hope you don’t mind, your house kinda runs hot,” you smiled, suddenly aware of his eyes on your body. Loving the attention he was giving. Blushing as his jaw hung open softly.

There were not many occasions where members of the BAU saw each other outside of work. Normally dressed in business attire, making sure to look extremely respectable and professional. Used to the button-ups and slacks. Not a shirt that perfectly hugged your chest and some shorts that were barely revealed under the length of your top.

As if he wasn’t hard enough already.

You sat on the other end of the couch beside him. Only a small pillow between your bodies. Legs crossing, causing your shorts to hike further up your thighs. Revealing the extra soft spots closer to your core.

“Anything good on?”

Hotch hesitated, “No.”

You widened your eyes at his short answer. Not sure what had gotten him so irritable in the last bit. Not wanting to push him. Choosing to stay quiet as you leaned against the arm of the couch. Watching some old sci-fi movie he had landed on. They were shooting out with some aliens. No telling what over, the movie was half way over by the time Hotch got to it.

The glow of the TV was all that illuminated the room. Flashes of colors dancing across your skin. Silently staring at the flat screen. Thinking about nonsense, just trying to feed your mind.

“Y/N,” Hotch began, hint of a break in his voice. You looked over at him. He had sweat beaming on his forehead. “You… you said earlier that you would help me in whatever way you could?”

You nodded, “Of course, Hotch. I’m here to please.”

His skin tingled. The innocent look behind your eyes pushing him even more on edge. He was silently opening and closing his mouth. Brows netted together as he breathed heavy. Tension so thick in the room neither of you could catch your breath.

“This is so inappropriate,” he softly chuckled to himself, stretching his neck, voice not above a whisper. Feeling your own heartbeat pound out of your chest. Hotch sighed, “I need to cum.”

Your eyes flew harshly open. Lips parting as you attempting to respond to him. Face immediately flushing with arousal as you clinched around nothing. Eyes shooting down to his crotch. Surprised to see the outline of his cock pressing against his pants. Thin, soft material not hiding his length.

“Either you can help me, or I need you to leave the room so I can handle it myself,” Hotch quickly said, desperation on his tone.

“Do you… want… me to-to help?” You shyly questioned.

Hotch smiled with an exhale. Perfect teeth on display for the first time tonight as he closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the couch. Blinking open to lock into you, “Yes.”

Such a simple statement. Causing so much confusion inside you. Of course, you had been flirting back and forth for some time now. And yes the idea of seeing Hotch’s cock, especially how it fit in your hand, had your body tingling.

But what about work?

What would your coworkers say? What would your superiors say? What if this was only for tonight?

You threw caution to the wind. Choosing to have some fun with him, even if you never spoke of this again.

You crawled closer to him on the couch, Hotch’s arm wrapping around your back when you sat on your knees. One of his hands coming up to grip at your t-shirt. Pulling the collar down with his finger and looking down it. Smiling at the sight of your lightly covered breasts. Blushing at how natural his hands felt on you. Leaning in to place your lips on his neck. Breath hitching in his throat at the soft feeling.

“Did you do this with all the other girls?” You asked between kisses, genuine curiosity and a bit of shame taking over your senses.

“Of course not,” Hotch exhaled, “You know it’s only you.”

You kissed up his jugular, resting along his jawline. Hotch’s smile never left his face as you feathered your lips along his skin. Hand running strong fingers up and down your back. Your own hand gently ghosting down his front to rest on his hard cock.

Hotch’s body twitched, causing him a small amount of pain. Wincing as he squinted his eyes. “I’m so sorry—“

“Don’t be,” Hotch’s hand came up to cup your cheek. Pulling you into a passionate kiss. Lightning stimulated your nerves at his taste and feeling. Both of you humming together. Tongue slipping past your lips as it grazed your teeth. Hunger apparent by the way he held onto you. Smiling as you became overwhelmed with emotions.

“What?” Hotch asked, unable to stop himself from returning your expression. Cheeks glowing.

“I just… just wanna know what’s got you all worked up?” pressing your lips back to his as your hand outlines his shaft. Hotch’s throat tightened at your touch. Breathy and clingy.

“I’ve been locked up here, not even a second of alone time, for weeks. And when you have nothing else to do, your mind wanders. And mine kept going to the same place time and time again,” toothy grin taking over his expression as he continuing caressing your face.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, not saying anything back.

“You’re going to tell me you don’t masturbate?” Hotch chuckled, an offensive hint on his tone.

Your face flooded red as you remembered the last time you had. Remembering the image of Hotch’s body above yours, strong arms flexing on either side of your head, hips pumping into yours as he held eye contact.

“I… um— yeah, I do. I have a vibrator in my night stand,” you kissed him again. Loving how his shaft hardened against your touch.

“Hmm,” he hummed against your lips, “Wish you’d brought it with you.”

“Hotch,” you giggled, playful embarrassment in your voice.

“I know you look so pretty when you orgasm,” Hotch smiled between kisses. Your heart thumped in your chest. Overwhelmed in the best way possible. Fingers continuing to lightly rub against his length.

“Probably really pretty with your mouth around my cock too,” Hotch’s hand held onto the back of your head. Keeping your mouth against his.

“God- you are needing aren’t you?” You chuckled into his mouth. The two of you shared in making flirtatious noises. Continuing to latch onto one another’s mouths. Slowly sliding into the floor between his legs. Fluttering your lashes up at him as you leaned forward to play with his waistband.

“Please,” Hotch squinted his eyes closed. Jaw tensed and Adam’s apple bobbing.

Slowly, you helped raise his hips so that you could pull his sweatpants down his legs. Taking your time to make sure he did not have to overwork his body. Mouth watering when you saw the tent pitched in his boxer-briefs. Flattening your hands against his thighs, framing his cock.

Hotch’s hand tethered in your hair, lust blown eyes admiring you below him. Moaning when your lips pressed a kiss against his clothed member. Freeing his cock from its confides. Taking in all the details. Thick and swollen, vein running over the top side as his head leaked. Tongue licking a stripe up the underside.

Hotch rutted forward, moaning loudly as he gripped the couch for stability. Head leaned forward to watch you. Your hand gripped him at the base. Stroking upward with a twist of your wrist. Thumb swiping over the slit to collect the precum. Loving how his velvety skin felt in your palm.

Tender lips kissed along his shaft before sucking on the head.

“Oh my God,” Hotch groaned. Trying his hardest to not move. Not wanting to take away from the pleasure by causing himself pain. His brows upturned and jaw hung open as he watched you go lower onto him.

Stopping when your nose met the soft hair at his base. Gagging around him momentarily. Taste of him overwhelming any other sense you had. Your tongue flattened underneath him as you began to bob. Almost completely coming off him before going down again.

“So good,” Hotch praised breathlessly. Causing your own arousal to pool inside you. Wishing you could crawling into his lap and take his cock inside you. Knowing his body was in no shape for that kind of physical activity.

Having him squirm from your mouth would have to do for now.

Hotch looked so beautiful with his face all flushed and shoulders heaving. Chest rapidly rising and falling as he audibly breathed. Your hand came up to wrap around his base once more, allowing your lips to meet your fingers with each movement. Causing you to move much faster than before.

“Y/N,” Hotch moaned.

Feeling his cock twitch between your lips. His end was nearing. Continuing at the pace you had given him. Sloppy sounds coming from your mouth as your tongue swirled around his length.

“I’m close,” Hotch breathed out. His veins on his neck poking out as he strained back. Sounds of him whimpering and grunting was like music to your ears. Salty taste filling your mouth as he approached his finish. Twisting your wrist and going down further on him. Coaxing him to his end.

Hotch’s hand gripped the back of your hand with strong fingers as he came. Breath hitching in his throat as his jaw hung open. Looking down to watch you swallow the ropes of cum he shot into your mouth. Hand traveling down to caress your cheek when he was done. Thumb rubbing circles into your flushed cheeks.

You caught your breath as you doed your eyes up at him. Smiling as you rested your head into his hand. Licking your lips to get any remnants of him off your face.

Hotch patted the seat beside him. Instructing you to come sit with him once more. You rested your head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your lower back. Grateful lips kissing your head.

Finding a position that was comfortable for you both as you rested your eyes. Engulfed by his body heat and musk. His heartbeat thumped against your ear. The day catching up with you as you relaxed.

“We can go lay in bed,” Hotch softly suggested.

You nodded. Standing to your feet to help him up. Shuffling down the hallway as Hotch limped holding onto you. Walking him over to his large mattress. Hotch smiled up at you, fingers holding onto your hand as you stood in front of him. Looking like a lovesick fool before you. Causing you to blush because it was you that had him looking like that. Smiling wider than you had ever seen him.

“Are you sure… that you want me in here? If you’d rest better, I can go—“

“Don’t even try,” Hotch grinned, pulling your hand to his lips and gently kissing. Tugging you into the bed with him. Landing directly beside him. Giggling as you snuggled under the blanket with him. Hotch’s lips kissed every piece of skin he could. Coating you in his love.

“That was the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” Hotch’s lips finally found yours. Smiling with a soft chuckle ending his sentence.

“Glad I could help,” you scrunched your nose up with a smile. His hand caressed your cheek again, dark eyes scanning your entire face. Seeing you this close for one of the first times. Finally taking the time to look at every freckle, blemish, scar, or any other beauty mark you had. Never having had someone look at you the way he was now.

Your eyes were growing heavy. Blinking slowly until a yawn came over you. Rolling over to allow Hotch to hold you from behind. Closing your eyes as the plush of his pillows captured you.

His hand snaked around your front. Causing your chest to tighten when you felt him prying at your shorts. His nose trailed the valley of your neck and shoulder. Fingers going down the front of your panties.

“Aaron…?“

“Let me repay you,” Hotch whispered into your ear.

“You don’t owe me anything,” you sighed when his fingertips swiped over your sensitive bud.

“If I can’t fuck you, let me make you cum around my fingers,” Hotch’s deep voice vibrated into your skin. Fingers finding their way into your soaked folds. Circling them before inserting one. Causing you to arch into him and moan. A hum of approval came from him.

Curling his finger inside you as he massaged your insides. Thumb pressing into your clit. Shooting electricity through your veins. Your hand coming up to tangle in his hair. Locks lacing through your fingers. Your jaw hung open at the feeling of him adding an additional digit. Stretching you perfectly.

“Aaron,” you moaned, Hotch held your hand above your head. Fingers gently interlocking with yours while the air from his lips casted across your skin.

“Go ahead, I want to hear you,” Hotch kissed your shoulder.

You moaned at his words.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he cooed.

That familiar knot was tightening in your lower half. Hotch knew how to use his fingers. Causing your thighs to quiver and body to jolt. Sounds of him breathing filling your ears, sounding intoxicated by you. Never wanting you to leave his side.

You felt your pussy clench around his fingers. Insides growing more and more sensitive when he would hit the spongy spots.

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

You nodded aggressively. Whining as you rolled your hips against his fingers. Feeling his semi-hard cock press into your ass. Sweat dripped down your skin. Your heartbeat was in your ears as you felt your orgasm washing over you. Walls fluttering around Hotch’s fingers. Moaning his name like a mantra. Grinding down on his hand as your thighs shook.

Hotch smiled against your skin. Loving how you sounded begging and calling out to him. Wishing he could fuck you senseless. Wanting nothing more than to fill you up.

“I knew you’d look pretty orgasming,” lips kissed your cheek. You breathed heavily, grinning at his cocky voice. Rolling over to press your lips into his. Arms wrapping around his neck. Finally finding yourself the most comfortable you had been yet.

Drifting to sleep in his arms.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate all the love I’ve gotten since writing for Hotch and love seeing everyone reply and comment and everything! As always, my requests are open! I have a Rossi x Reader planned in the next few days that was requested so keep an eye out for that! //

{tags}

@bondwithme-murderstyle ~ @mrs-ssa-hotch ~ @cherriready ~ @khxna ~ @justyourusualash ~ @boybandbaby ~ @hoffmanfan13 ~ @megangovier

[mywritersmind]

TROUBLE - LN4 part two

previous part - next part

og summary : Trouble comes in many forms, for Lando Norris, it comes in the shape of his teammates sister. A week at Oscars brings more temptation and impulse than any other start to a season.

summary : A day that was supposedly for Lando and his sight seeing turns into a day full of holding back touches, fast car rides, water fights, and his hand on hers.

listen up : i don’t know anything abt cars so don’t come for me if i said smt wrong abt the mclaren F1. dirty jokes. dual pov! comment to be on taglist!

words : 4082

⋆｡‧˚⋆

lando

I wake up to hushed voices outside my door. I practically roll out of bed, seeing that it’s five in the morning and moving to the door, still half asleep.

When I open it, I expect it to be Oscar with Lily or maybe even Nicole- what I don’t expect is a random man I've never seen, grinning down at Y/n.

She has her arms crossed and stops whispering when she sees me. She steps away from him, the man turning to look at me now. Y/n doesn’t say anything, just grabs his arm and tugs him down the hallway.

I watch her go, her hair a mess and her body barely covered by her sleep set. I blink, still confused and honestly too nosy to not get answers.

She’s back a minute later, shaking her head, “Don’t say a thing.”

I shrug, watching her run her hands over her face, “I wouldn’t dare.”

Then we’re both quiet, neither of us moving and a smirk growing on my face. She gives in easily, stomping her foot and groaning quietly, “He’s my ex. And neighbor.”

“That’s… fun.”

“No. It’s idiotic!” She leans against the wall, frowning still, “You can’t tell anyone. Oscar would freak if he saw him.”

This makes me stand up straighter, “Why?”

“He may or may not have broken my heart… long story.” She sighs, closing her eyes before turning fully towards me again, “And we didn’t do anything!”

I smile, “I believe you.”

“He just- wanted to ‘talk’.” She puts finger quotes over the word ‘talk’. “I shouldn’t have let him in.”

My eyes narrow, not judging her, just assessing her emotions. “But you did…?”

She looks at me as if I slapped her, “Go back to sleep, Lando.” I don’t think she’s ever said my first name before. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t worry-” My alarm goes off on my phone at the perfect moment, “I’m getting up to run, anyway.”

She nods, still looking tired but angsty, crossing her arms. I hesitated before saying, “Wanna come?”

I know I shouldn’t have said it the second she looks at me. Her eyes curious and way too distracting. “Really?”

“Why not?”

“Not like I'm gonna get any sleep after that.” She shivers as if she’s remembering the image of him in her room, “Okay. I’ll see you out front in ten.”

⋆༺

you

When accepting Lando’s offer to join him on his morning exercise, I forgot one thing.

I cannot run.

I’m out of breath and sweaty, falling onto the couch as Lando actually LAUGHS at me! “I think I'm dying.” I mumble, feeling like i’ve just ran a 10k.

“You don’t exercise much, do you?” He walks around the couch, a smoothie in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

I scoff, “Excuse you!” He hands me the water, something so simple but very sweet to me. I chug that shit, making my breath even more ragged, “Why would I!?”

He smiles, sitting down next to me and resting his arm on the back of the couch, “Well usually when you exercise, you tend to get better at specific things. If you start running everyday you won’t look like you’ve just crawled out hell-”

I hit him with a pillow, my skin on fire even in my tight shorts and sports bra. “Fuck you.” I whisper, standing up and walking into the kitchen so he doesn’t see me smile.

“Do you know what we’re doing today?” Lando looks back at me, watching me fill my water.

“Apparently I'm showing you around? I’m not sure.” I shrug, plopping a few ice cubes into my glass, “Lily and Oscar wanted to go to the beach so maybe that too-”

Oscar walks in then, his eyes tired as he yawns and waves weakly at me, “Speak of the devil.” I mumble as he glares at me.

“Good Morning to you my amazing and wonderful sister.” He grins at me, now I know he wants something.

“Pancakes?” I ask, knowing my brother too well.

“Favorite sister.” He ruffles my hair as I push him away. He turns and stops dead in his tracks. I realize that he must have just spotted Lando, the brit watching our sibling antics quietly.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, turning back to me and eyeing my outfit.

“We went for a run.” Lando says casually, bringing his straw to his lips.

“You got her up this early to… run?” Oscar asks skeptically as I understand that he’s not just shocked that I ran, but that I ran with Lando.

“I was already up.” I try to diffuse the tension I know is coming, “Trying to clear my find and stuff.” I pull the ingredients out of the cabinet and fridge, biting my tongue.

“Right…” Oscar shakes his head, seemingly letting it go and joining Lando on the couch. As Oscar scrolls through the TV, Lando glances back at me, not giving me a smile or anything before turning back to his teammate.

I turn to the stove, my eyes wide and cheeks red. This is going to be a long week.

⋆༺

lando

“What do you mean, you’re not coming?” I ask Oscar as he pushes past me to grab Lily’s bag.

“Lily just killed her foot-” He says, looking more worried than i’ve ever seen him, “I’m taking her to the hospital.”

Y/n walks in with Lily next to her, her hand around her waist as Lily’s arm is over her shoulder. She’s limping with a pained look on her face, “Shit. I can come- I’ll drive.”

“No it’s fine!” Lily says quickly, “I’ll be fine. You two can just go explore. You should have fun.”

Y/n looks from me to Oscar, “Lily we can come with you it’s really not a prob-”

“No!” She moves away from Y/n, hopping to Oscar who wraps his arm around her, “Just- send me pictures!” And with that, they’re gone.

Y/n looks at me, blinking. Nicole hurries back inside, shutting the door, “That boy I swear…”

“Mom, do you want to come with us today? Lily won’t be back for a while and you should-”

“I’ve gotta work, love.” She explains, “Take Lando to all the touristy spots!”

Y/n turns on her heels, looking at me skeptically, “So… what do you want to do first?”

⋆༺

you

What do you do when you’re tasked with exploring your home town with a man you’ve known for one day and are extremely attracted to?

In my mind, you take him to the best place for him to get as shirtless as possible… the beach! Even though my mom said that wasn’t good enough, I’ve been craving the water.

I still bring him there, how could I not!? Best beaches in Australia are right in my hometown. He’s probably all sad and broody from grey Britain anyway!

I know I already saw Lando shirtless yesterday, but this… this is different.

Tanned, wet, sandy, AND shirtless. His curls are wet and I'm pretty sure a smile is permanently drawn onto his face. He plops down next to me, music blasting from a speaker a couple people down.

“I love the sun.” He mumbles into the towel, sitting up and unknowingly flexing his arms. I breathe in and look back at the water.

“I can tell. I’m jealous. I wish I got as tan as you.” I flick sand onto him as he rolls onto his back. He’s in blue and reminds me a bit too much of prince eric.

“Yeah you might wanna sunscreen up.” He teases, pressing my arm as if I'm bright red! I do not burn that easily, thank you!

I scoff as he tosses the bottle at me, “Fuck off!” I grab it, “You wanna put it on me?” my manner changes in an instant, seeing an opportunity and taking it.

His tooth catches on his lip as he nods. I smile and hand him the bottle gently. Ah, men… So easy to manipulate. So easy to trick.

I move my hair from my back slowly, but the second I hear the bottle unlatch, I spin around and grab it, squeezing it onto him.

“Trouble!” He yells, the sunscreen on his chest and splattered onto his face. I’m running away before he can even open his eyes again. “Get back here!”

I run straight into the water, diving under the first wave and regretting it as soon as his hand meets my ankle. He tugs me back as I come back up for air, his hands fully white and coming straight for me. “No!” I scream, trying to swim away, but his hand is on my waist and smearing the sunblock all down my arm.

“Cunt!” I yell louder, shoving him under water. He pops back up, coughing and laughing.

“You’re so dramatic!” His hands are clean now, shaking out his wet curls onto me.

“You basically called me pale!” I argue, laying back in the water and catching my breath, “I reacted like a sane woman.”

“Nothing about you is sane.” He dunks his head again. I watch him go under and match him, not being able to see him in the salt water but feeling him there.

“You’re the one who fell for it.” I shrug, not forgetting the want in his eyes.

He shakes his head, sinking into the water again so I can only see his head and shoulders, “I’m understanding the trouble thing more and more...”

I can’t help but smirk, “Good thing you can handle it.” Him. The dim kitchen light. The ice cream. His fucking eyes never leaving mine.

“You want me to handle you?” This, surprises me.

He’s matching me quicker than I expected.

I just smile and swim to shore, “Come on, Norris! We’ve got plans!”

Like I said, my mom said the beach wasn’t enough ( even though it’s only his first day here! ) so we took Oscar’s Mclaren and booked it to Fitzroy market.

Lando said he likes shopping and my favorite place to do it is here! The area is crowded with people in way cooler outfits than me and vendors with tons of vintage items.

Lando and I are still in beach wear. He’s in all black, probably baking in the sun but looking ridiculous in a shirt with cutoff sleeves and backwards hat, a camera slung around his neck.

I gravitate to some vintage juicy couture while Lando is on the rack over looking at jerseys. The woman working the booth grins when she sees me. “Y/n! My girl!” She hops over to me, side stepping the others around, “How’ve you been!?”

“Mitch!” I grin right back at her, “Better than ever, babe, i’m out of school!” She laughs, her full head of curls bouncing with her. “How are you!? Business is booming, I see!”

“Amazing! Broke up with Jonah too…” She looks down, her glasses shading her eyes for a second before she pops right back up, “But fuck him!”

“Fuck him!” I join in.

“Yeah, Fuck him.” Says a deeper voice. Jonah comes walking up behind Mitch, wrapping an arm around her before she has the chance to push him away.

“Hey, J.” I roll my eyes at him, respecting his role in Mitch’s life but definitely not the way he dated her.

“Hey.” Mitch sways my arm, leaning in a bit and lowering her voice, “Who’s the hottie?”

I glance back to my companion for the day, he’s holding up a jacket at the booth over and talking to the guy who runs it. “That is Lando…” I turn back to them.

“Boy toy?” Jonah raises a brow as I shake my head.

Not yet.

“Boyfriend?” Mitch looks so shocked that It makes me laugh.

“No! Boy i’m showing around today.” I clarify, “And someone I should probably go after before he gets lost.”

Mitch and Jonah nod, both knowing the extreme confusion one can get into at the market. I kiss Mitch on the cheek and wave goodbye to both of them.

When I turn around, Lando is handing money over to the man and smiling when he sees me. There’s that smile again.

He swings the bag in his hand as we walk away, “You come here often?” The curly haired man glances back at my friends.

“Maybe too much.” I shrug, “Mostly because Mitch carries the best shit ever.”

“Oh yeah?” He nods, “I heard you two talking… what’s up with the tall one?” I laugh when he refers to Jonah.

“They’re… a lot. Soulmates? Maybe. But definitely not meant for eachother. You know? At least, not right now.”

He scrunches up his nose, “I don’t know.”

“They love each other and stuff but Jonah needs to get his life together. All we can do is help Mitch get over him and pray that we don’t end up like them.” It sounds mean, but the two really are in a situation that I would hate.

“Shit.” He nods as we turn into a booth with a million shoes, “I had something like that once.”

This makes me turn to him suddenly, “Yeah?”

“Without the soulmates part… I think I may have been Jonah in that situation. Thank fuck it’s over, though. The girl was not as nice as Mitch.” I nod and smile at his use of my friends love life, “What do you think of these?”

The conversation switches to a horrendous pair of sneakers he’s holding up, “Oh babe… no.” I make him put them back and drag him to the correct section.

He’s like my own barbie doll! One that can talk and definitely bite back.

I knew I would lose Lando in this godforsaken place! I’m in too deep and have three bags in my hands.

I walk around to find him, possibly getting distracted by all the pretty things, but settling my eyes on him once again at a plant shop.

He’s in the corner talking to two girls and a guy, looking a bit shy and way too hot in his backwards cap. I watch him for a second, weaving through the people and walking across some shops.

He finds me pretty fast, it’s probably due to the all white i’m wearing in a sea of colorful button downs and denim. I can see him excusing himself and hurrying over to me, “You left me.”

I laugh, “I lost you!”

He shakes his head and starts walking away, “Sorry prissy, I forgot I'm babysitting you.”

He shakes his head, smiling back at me, “I got cornered by fans.”

“Better than me being there and having rumors spread on twitter of your ‘possible new girl’.” I laugh and walk out of the crowd, the sun hot on us and making me crave a cool drink.

He laughs at this, “You wish.”

I scoff, turning back to face him, “I can leave your ass in the middle of melbourne, you know?” I hold up the keys to my brothers car as he steps closer.

“I dare you.” He says, “I guarantee if you got into that car alone you’d be in a wall in five seconds flat.”

I swat the keys at him, “I’m a great driver!”

“Not in that.” He shakes his head, “Has Oscar ever actually let you driven it?”

I bite my lip, not answering.

His eyes flick down to my lips, then back up at my eyes, “Come on then.” He snatches the keys right out of my hand!

“Norris!” I yell, hurrying after him and across the street as he walks faster, “Hey!”

I catch up to him on the other side, he’s still swinging the keys around his finger with a grin on his face, “Where’s the most open, empty road you know?”

I raise a brow and follow him into the parking structure, “Why…?”

Our car is easy to spot, he walks over to it, and to my surprise, finds his way to the passengers side. Looking at me over the expensive car, he tosses me the keys, “We’re gonna hit two hundred in this thing and I want to make sure there’s no bystanders in the car of your havoc.”

He slides into the car, making me squeal and swing the door open quickly, sliding into the way far back driver's seat and turning the keys into the ignition.

He sees my eyes light up as I adjust the seat, “You ever kart as a kid?”

“A bit. Got kicked out a few times.”

“Why…?”

I eye him and click my seatbelt into place, “Too fast, too reckless…”

He shakes his head and mumbles a curse under his breath before tightening his seatbelt. “Don’t make me regret this.”

⋆༺

lando

I was right. Oscar has never let her drive his Mclaren before, and for good reason.

She can’t drive stick shift, first of all. But I only let her briefly panic before I grab a hold of the stick and tell her to go slow.

She does not go slow. Tate Mcrae is blasting through the speakers as she speeds up the empty street with the windows rolled down. The street is right next to the beach and I can see the sun about to go down.

Y/n break checks me and makes me hold on tighter. My arm is around the back of her seat so I can control the stick shift with my dominant hand. She’s laughing and going faster and faster by the second.

It doesn’t take her long before she gets the hang of it but I still hang onto the stick as she sings along to Sports Car.

I’m not stupid, I know her little games and yes, they might be working, but I will not be giving in. This week is supposed to be relaxing, recuperating, and definitely NOT romantic.

Although, the track that Y/n and I are heading is definitely not romantic. More on the side of we both want each other in a hot sexy way.

Her hair whips all around us as she turns the corner, making her way higher up the hill. I’m now realizing that the hill is more of a mountain, the street getting smaller and the trees growing farther away.

I watch her speedometer as it inches higher and higher, her smile growing bigger as it goes, “Christ, are all Piastri’s this quick?”

She laughs out loud, “Next time you compliment me try not to include my brother in it too!”

I can’t help but let out a laugh, staring at her profile as the landscape zips by us. Her cheeks are pink from the sun and I bet if I put my hand to her neck i’d be able to feel her heart racing.

I shouldn’t be thinking this. I know I shouldn’t. But my eyes wander too easily down her smooth skin, her bikini top untied with the strings hanging over her thin top like it’s nothing.

I drag my eyes off her tits and back on the road, knowing I'm in too deep for someone I just met. We slow down as we reach the top, or at least, where she thinks is close enough.

She practically jumps out of the car, running over to a small patch of flat land and a bench that overlooks the water.

“Holy shit.” I walk slowly behind her, looking out at the view and watching her figure jump up and down. I grab my camera that I forgot is around my neck and snap a photo.

She looks back at the perfect moment, her face shadowed and her hair a mess around her, but it just… fits.

I sit on the bench as she sets her ass down on the back of it, her feet tapping the wood next to me.

“So. Your first full day in Melbourne! Thoughts?”

I smile, “I’ve been here before.”

She groans, “Not with me. Was I a good tour guide?”

I nod, “The best.” We didn’t do a whole lot but that’s the best part. Y/n is completely fun but totally chill at the same time.

My phone lights up, it’s a text from Oscar.

“Osc says that Lily is Ok and they’ve been chilling at the house for a while. He’s asking where we are.” I look up at the girl whose eyes are set on the pink and orange sky.

“Tell him we’re making out sloppy style in his car.”

The only change in her behavior is a tiny tug on her mouth, “Trouble…” I mumble and text him that we’re watching the sunset and will be back soon.

“I’m only voicing what we both want.” Jesus Christ, this girl… I’m rarely speechless, especially after a comment like that. But this girl is insanely captivating and I've never wanted to give in more.

I’m struck again at how beautiful she is, the sky reflecting off her as if she’s a part of the earth.

“Nervous, Norris?” Her head dips down to my level.

“We should get back.” I say, leaning my head back on the wood.

“Cop out.” she whispers before hopping off the bench and moving back to the drivers side.

“Woah! You are not driving back.”

“Try and stop me.”

⋆༺

you

I can’t drive stick. I wasn’t lying about that. Although now that I think about it, it would be a great way to get closer to a man.

Lando’s hand is over mine the whole way back. I insisted I could do it (or at least try!) but he guided my every move anyway. Hot. As. Fuck. I try to watch the road and not his huge veiny hands on mine, but mostly fail.

We’re split up after another quick dinner. I talk to Lily about her new addition to her shoe collection (a black boot semi-permanently on her foot as of today), while Lando, Oscar, and my Mom talk about the movie they’re watching.

I’m in my bed a while later, the lights still on in the hallway and Lando’s door hasn’t creaked shut yet so I know he’s not there.

My mom had thanked me immensely for showing Lando around and Oscar gave me a small thanks while looking at me funny. I don’t think he trusts me with his friend, especially with my past and a certain neighbor.

And sure, I want him to trust me! But I want Lando more.

I’m so zoned out that I don’t notice the man in my doorway, knocking on my open door with a tired smile on his face.

Lando has one hand in his pocket, looking sunkissed and content. “Hey.” I sit up, crossing my feet under me.

“Hi.” He smiles as if he’s about to blush, “I just wanted to say… Thanks for today. It was really fun.”

“I didn’t scare you too bad in the car?” I ask as his head meets my door, his neck straining against it.

“You weren’t too bad. Definitely got my adrenaline pumping.”

“Just say I'm an amazingly fast driver and move on.” I shrug, leaning back on my hands and puffing my chest out proudly.

He watches me- watches my body. I don’t have a bra on, something obvious in the cool space of our air conditioned house. I’m wearing a new set, light yellow with lacy little shorts. He likes it and I can tell.

He groans, running a hand down his face and shutting his eyes tight. “Your brother is gonna hate me by the end of this trip.”

I quirk a brow, playing the innocence card as I push a rogue strand of hair out of my face, “Why’s that?”

He looks at me again, his tongue running over his teeth as he challenges me. I want him, that’s the truth. But i’m not that easy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, trouble.” he pushes off the door, turning around and not looking back.

“Dream about me. But don’t be too loud tonight, yeah?” I tease, “Thin walls. I learned that the hard way.” I emphasize ‘hard’ never missing an opportunity to tell a joke.

He throws up one hand, the other still on his face as he walks out of my room and turns to go to his. I smile to myself, standing up and shutting the door he was too busy to remember.

[steddiehyperfixation]

@steddiebingo prompts: lecture + skull rock | 1.2k words | T |

Eddie closes his locker to find Nancy suddenly standing right beside him. “Jesus!” he startles, hand pressed to his chest. He hadn't even heard her approach.

“Sorry.” She has the decency to look apologetic. “I didn't mean to sneak up on you, I just wanted to talk to you for a sec. I hear you and Steve are...together?” She says it carefully, with the inflection of a question, and Eddie has a vague feeling like she's testing him but he has no idea what for.

“Um.” He doesn't know what the right answer is. “Well, I don't know exactly- I mean, kind of? It's not really anything, we've just...made out a couple times.”

Nancy raises her eyebrows. “You just...made out a couple times,” she repeats.

Eddie shrugs, getting a little nervous that he's failing her test. He really cannot get a read on her right now. “Yeah, um, I mean, it was probably just like a one time, two time thing…”

A tiny scrunch flickers across her face and she mutters to herself, “God, is that what I sounded like?”

“What?”

“Nothing, sorry, I just got major deja vu.” She shakes her head and then looks back up at him with those big, serious eyes. “Anyways. Look, you might not think it's anything, but I know Steve and I guarantee you he already thinks you guys are something. So if you only wanted it to be just a one time, two time thing, then you better tell him quick before he gets too deeply attached. He falls fast and he falls hard, don't let him get too serious if you're not.”

She reminds him vaguely of a teacher lecturing some clueless kid, but Eddie feels less chastised and more like he's just been punched in the chest. “Wait, you really think-?”

“He wants something real, he always has,” Nancy continues, “and if you guys haven't talked about it, he's just going to assume that's what you are. He's a hopelessly hopeful romantic, Eddie, he can't help it. He's all in already, I'm sure, so if that's not what you wanted out of whatever you two have got going on, then don't waste his time - don't waste your time. Don't play along and break his heart if you already know you don't feel the same.”

“No, I wouldn't-” Eddie finds himself at an uncharacteristic loss for words, can't do much more than give her a sort of deer-in-headlights stare.

“I'm not judging you,” she reassures him in a slightly softer tone now, clearly misinterpreting something in his expression. “I'm not upset with you. I'm just trying to give a little advice, from my own experience. Just make sure you two are on the same page, alright? That's all I'm saying. For both of your sakes.”

“Right- yeah, thanks,” he stammers. He points his thumb awkwardly over his shoulder. “I, uh, I gotta go…”

He doesn't wait for a response before he turns and hurries down the hall to get outside. A deep breath of fresh air to shake off the weird suffocating feeling Nancy's lecture had given him, and then Eddie's heading straight for the nearest phone. He has to talk to Steve, has to see him.

“Hey, Stevie,” he says the second the other line picks up. “I'm ditching class right now, wanna hang out?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve agrees immediately, a smile in his voice. “I can meet you at our usual spot in, like, 20 minutes?”

'Our usual spot', aka Skull Rock, the make-out spot--their spot now apparently since that's where it started, since that's where they've met the last three times they've hung out alone, the last three times they've kissed and kissed and not talked. But Eddie can't think of anywhere else to suggest, so he says, “Yeah, sounds good. See you soon.”

He hangs up the phone and heads for Skull Rock.

A short drive and a longer hike and he's leaning against the side of that infamous skull-shaped boulder, watching the surrounding foliage for signs of Steve. He doesn't have to wait long before Steve steps out from the brush in all his gorgeous glory, face lit up in a beautiful smile just at the sight of Eddie.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Steve walks up to him and draws him straight into a kiss, because that's what they do here, at Skull Rock, the make-out spot, their spot. His lips are soft and warm and Eddie melts right into it, draping his arms over Steve's shoulders and kissing back before he remembers that he'd meant to use his mouth for talking instead.

“Wait, Steve.” It takes all Eddie’s willpower to break the kiss and pull back enough to speak. “Is this real to you?”

“Hmm, feels pretty real, but I don’t know, I could be dreaming. I never can tell around you,” Steve flirts easily, voice a smooth murmur as he brushes some of Eddie’s hair out of his face, caressing his cheek. “Might need to pinch me just to be sure.”

“No, I mean-” Eddie ducks out from between Steve and the rock, putting a little more space between them before he can give in to the ever-growing urge to give up on talking and go back to kissing. “Um, Nancy kind of ambushed me in the hall earlier, gave me this whole lecture about how you get attached really quick and how if I only wanted this to be something casual I should tell you fast before you get too serious, because she thinks you're probably already serious and that you want something real,” he provides context in an awkward, nervous rush, not even pausing for a breath, “and I just- I need to know, is that true?”

“Oh.” The previous playful flirtatiousness drains from Steve’s expression and his face falls. “Um.” He shakes his head, more like he's trying to clear his thoughts than anything. “Shit- I’m sorry if she freaked you out. She had absolutely no right to try to speak for me like that. I mean, I really am fine if you just want this to be casual...”

“I don't, I just thought that's what you wanted,” Eddie says. He hasn't been explaining this right. “Because that's all we've been doing - we come here and we make out and that’s it, casual, so this whole time I just assumed that's all it was to you. But then Nancy said all that stuff about you and it gave me this hope I hadn't let myself have before, so can you please just tell me if she was right?” He looks at Steve, eyes big and earnest. “Because I really, really want her to be right.”

Steve just stares at him for a moment, then softens with a sigh. “Yeah,” he admits, a tentative smile tugging at his lips, “she was right. I definitely don't just feel casual about you - it's real; I want real.”

Eddie’s face bursts into a grin. He throws his arms around Steve and pulls him into another kiss. “Then let’s get out of this casual fucking place.” He takes Steve by the hand and starts dragging him away from Skull Rock. “Come on, let me buy you some lunch.”

[hivemuthur]

request: jayce and mel decided to invite their friends with them to a beach trip, viktor isn't the type to enjoy the hot sun and being sweaty, but doesn’t mind staying under the shade away from the heat, because imagine wasting the chance to see his crush in a cute bikini.. maybe a sunscreen scene too <3

Hi Anon! I miss summer so much that I wrote this for you:

Lips Burn Too

viktorxfemale!reader explicit/mature idk it's just horny. Kinda modern uni AU. Lots and lots of yearning, Reader wears a one-piece swim suit, because I find it sexier, Jayce is a matchmaker secretly, some heated kissing, very very slight dry humping, like for a second, a very gentle Jayvik nod. Also @ihopeinevergetsoberr changed my brain chemistry and Viktor is a thigh man through and through.

word count: 2,9K

author’s note: This is for the Freaktor Nation. The still comes from One Day. I listened to Contaminado by La Femme and Mykonos by Fleet Foxes writing this if you want to check it out! Also, I'm still brainrotten from D&M, so if you see Pride and Prejudice reference, no you don't. @rennethen pre-read, merci!

—

“Viktor, I beg you,” Jayce pleads, quickening his pace. For a man with a cane, Viktor is unexpectedly fast, and Jayce has to take quick steps to keep up.

“No,” Viktor replies flatly, granting Jayce nothing more.

“Viktor, look at me.” Jayce reaches out, catching Viktor’s arm to halt him. Then, to Viktor’s absolute horror, Jayce drops to his knees. In the middle of the academy corridor.

A group of passing girls giggle; one of them calls out, "Say yes!" earning the spectacle a few more turning heads.

Viktor’s mouth twitches into an involuntary smile as he leans on his cane, gazing down at his friend. “As much as I’m enjoying this, the answer is still no.”

“Viktor,” Jayce groans, bowing his head in exaggerated resignation. He sighs, rubbing his thighs as if steadying himself for further negotiation.

“Jayce,” Viktor states dryly, then asks, “Why is it so imperative that I accompany you to the beach?”

“Because,” Jayce huffs, scrambling back to his feet, “I don’t want you sulking around here while we’re all there.” He gestures vaguely toward there, as if the direction alone should be convincing. “And the sea is nice. And it’s warm. Please. I’ll bring the biggest umbrella. SPF 99. Anything you want. Just say yes,” he begs, hands gripping Viktor’s shoulders, eyes imploring.

The truth is, Jayce desperately wants to take Mel to the beach. But she, being the merciless tease she is, declared she would only go if everyone went. No particular reason—just to watch Jayce struggle.

Viktor sighs, dragging a hand down his face. It isn’t the promise of shade or excessive sun protection that gives him pause—it’s that single, fateful word: everyone.

If Jayce means what Viktor thinks he means (and he usually does), then you will be there. Which means that, had Viktor remained stubborn, he would have missed the rare opportunity to compare the version of your thighs that exists in his imagination with the reality. One in a million chance for field research. He cannot let it slip away.

Jayce watches him carefully, spotting the exact moment hesitation turns into reluctant acceptance.

Viktor exhales dramatically, purely to emphasize how troublesome Jayce is being. “Fine. I will go to the beach.”

And so, it happens the following weekend, when the sun scorches the land mercilessly, and Viktor briefly worries that his skin will sizzle under the heat—until he sees you approaching the car.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary, yet it serves as the first glimpse into his ongoing research when he realises you’re wearing shorts, granting him a tantalising view of bare skin. And in that moment, he is convinced that if anything will make his skin sizzle, it won’t be the sun’s radiation, but you.

By the time you arrive at the place, Viktor’s back is already damp—partly due to the busted AC in Jayce’s car, partly because the two of you are wedged together in the back seat, pressed close by the massive umbrella Jayce insisted on bringing for him. Your thighs brush and bump against his with every pothole, and the only barrier he has—his cane—proves almost useless in keeping any distance.

His gaze fixes on your knees, and when sunlight streams through the windows, he catches the fine peach fuzz on the inner side of your thighs. He wonders if sunscreen will cling to it, momentarily turning it white before sinking into your skin. He would like it for his hands to be the ones that make it happen.

From the parking lot, he’s handed a small shoulder bag filled with fruit and a cooling container to carry. That’s when he notices—your back is damp too. Your shirt clings to your spine, outlining the shape of your bathing suit beneath. It’s a one-piece, low-cut, ending at the small of your back and leaving the rest bare. He can’t wait for you to take the outer layer off.

The cane proves useless on the sand, forcing him to lean on Jayce’s arm for support, despite Jayce’s hands being full—the umbrella swings over his shoulder, his forearms burdened with bag straps and a deflated mattress. You and Mel walk ahead, carrying blankets and towels, laughing and holding your hats against the wind.

The beach is wild and untouched, with only a handful of people scattered across the sand dunes. It’s a raw meeting place between land and sea where the elements have shaped it with no regard for humans. Old tree barks lie bleached, half-buried in the sand, twisted like grotesque limbs. The dunes rise and fall, sleepy, with their peaks crowned by scorched patches of grass that cling stubbornly to the sunbaked earth. Here, among the hollows and ridges, the world feels utterly private—hidden from prying eyes, as if nature itself conspires to keep secrets.

A gust of warm wind rushes over, catching the hem of your shirt and tugging at it insistently, exposing the curve of your waist before you press it back down. Viktor watches the way the fabric clings to you, how the heat of the day has already begun marking the skin of your neck, turning it darker. He imagines the press of the sun’s warmth sinking deeper, how it might feel beneath his hands, beneath his lips.

Sand swallows your sandal and the heat of it licks the sole of your foot as you stand on one leg to shake it off. Viktor watches the way your calve flexes in the light, pictures himself licking over the burnt skin, easing it down. His mouth goes dry, and lids grow heavy, grains catching in his eyelashes as he tries to blink the images goading his thoughts toward dangerous places away.

The spot you choose to set up camp is a hollow dip nestled among the sand hills, high enough that when you spread your blankets, the sea is visible only as a thin strip of blue on the horizon. Once everything is settled—including the wide umbrella that rattles in the wind above your heads—Jayce grunts, claps his hands together, and declares, “Alright then,” before promptly hoisting Mel upside down over his shoulder.

“I’m taking you for a swim,” he announces playfully, securing her ankles in one hand as she kicks and squirms. Her wild curls tumble downward, brushing against his back as she protests, her laughter carried away by the wind. Viktor watches as Jayce carries her off through the dunes, their figures shrinking into the distance until the crashing waves swallow the sound of her shrieks.

He settles down on the blanket and tugs his shirt off in one boyish pull, welcoming the tickling sensation of the wind against the heated skin of his back. Rolling the fabric awkwardly into a lumpy pillow, he places it beneath his head, determined to ignore the burning stare you’re directing at him.

You let the moment linger—Viktor’s eyes are closed, his lashes resting against his cheeks, and he cannot see you, you think. The wind is gentler here, in your little cloister, sending only the laziest grains of sand tumbling across his stomach as it rises and falls with his breath. They catch in the fine trail of hair that guides your gaze from his sunken navel, down between his hips, before disappearing beneath the bridge of the waistband stretched over his hipbones.

With this sliver of privacy, you undress down to your bathing suit. Viktor’s eyes crack open, his face half-shielded by the crook of his elbow as he steals a glance, masking the little act of voyeurism. You step from foot to foot, slipping free of your shorts and shirt, and he inhales deeply, trying to remain. Just remain. Just not sink into the sand under the weight of this sight.

Your thighs are as lovely as he imagined. And oh, your hips are dipped in a way that tempts his hands, as though they were shaped to be held. You ass cheeks slit diagonally by the swimsuit’s bottom, the parts peeking out from underneath it tempt his mouth to land there and his teeth to bite down so much that his jaw tightens.

He is so focused on making himself look as though he’s not looking that he doesn’t notice the sudden spurt of cold sunscreen on his stomach until it makes him jolt.

��Ah! What’s this?” he exclaims, spreading his hands apart.

“You’ll burn,” you tease, setting the bottle aside after applying some—oh…—to your thighs. And whatever Viktor had conjured in his mind does not compare to reality. Your fingers sink into your skin, leaving faint white streaks that catch on the fine hairs, turning them silver under the sunlight. When you shift just beyond the shade of the umbrella, the cream finally disappears, leaving only a satin glow and the scent of summer clinging to you.

“We are in the shade,” he mutters, transfixed, struggling to drag his eyes away.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll fall asleep, the sun will shift, and you’ll burn,” you say knowingly, motioning toward the bottle, though the amount you’ve already placed on his stomach is more than enough for his entire chest. He still hasn’t done anything about it, and it inches lazily toward the waistband of his trunks.

“I’ll have you know that I already did this before we left,” he counters, but instead of rubbing it in, he simply picks up the bottle, inspects it for a second, then tosses it aside. “And I’d burn anyway with this inferior protection.”

You snort. “Oh, please. SPF 99 is just marketing. Fifty is enough.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” The sound is barely more than a hum as you twist your arms, straining to reach your shoulder blades.

“Do you need help?” The words tumble out before he can stop them, and the bottle is back in Viktor’s hands in an instant. You nod, then glance over your shoulder just as he warms the lotion between his palms. You attempt to tease him—“So thoughtful—”

But the words die in your throat when the back of his hand brushes your hair aside, sweeping it over one shoulder.

“I am,” he says quietly. Then, a palm full of sun screen presses against the nape of your neck and stays. The heel of his hand rests on one side while his fingers stretch across to the other, spanning the delicate space where your pulse flutters, quickened beneath his touch. To his utter joy.

“Thoughtful,” he finally murmurs into your ear. And then he rubs it in—both the words and the cream. His hand slides from your neck lower and to the sides, dipping underneath the straps, rubbing the balls of your shoulders. You roll them back instinctively and inhale deeply hoping that the sound drowns in the sea.

Lower he goes. To your shoulder blades and between, where muscle meets bone, and Viktor is so painfully quiet that silent breathing becomes harder and harder to achieve. His fingers bleed not only thoughtfulness, you realise, but tenderness. It seeps into your skin, when he dares to slide beneath the material and tease your sides, and oh—the small of your back. Flat palm comes there when he pulls the stretchy band away from your body and explores, calloused pads ghosting over your sacrum.

“It’s cut rather low, isn’t it?” he hums in an attempt to offload the tension.

You chuckle, grateful and muse, “Hmm, good thing I didn’t put it on backwards then.”

“I think it depends on perspective,” he huffs a laugh and before you can answer, adds, “All done.”

You turn to face him and swing your legs over one of his. “What about you?” you ask, pointing at his belly painted white.

“I don’t know,” he breathes, so quiet that you itch to move closer. You shift again, moving one of your legs so that now you are sat with your knees bent over his thighs, your torsos facing each other.

“Do you need help?” you ask, matching his tone.

“If you’d be,” he swallows, “so thoughtful.”

His tummy sucks in involuntarily when your fingers dip into the pool of sun screen gathered at the waistband. You pull it away from his navel, scoop it up and Viktor breathes out, “Oh.” His head falls forward, foreheads nearly touching. Your hands glide up, over the flat plane below his stomach, whitening the sparse hairs there before reaching the ridges of his ribs making him exhale loudly through his nose, as he does nothing to hide what kind of effect your touch has on him.

Palms smooth over his chest, brushing his nipples, and he huffs an embarrassed laugh but still says nothing. Not until you reach his neck, where your fingers meet at his nape, tracing the hairline, then his earlobes—and that’s when he exhales a quiet, “Oh, fuck,” slipping through parted lips.

You hum, letting his forehead press against yours. Your thumbs move with intent in slow circles over the freckles dusting the column of his throat, the one above his upper lip, and the delicate skin beneath his eye. Then you inhale, a soft, measured sound, and murmur, “I’ve heard that lips burn too.”

“Is that so?” Viktor whispers, his nose brushing against yours.

Gentle fingers, bearing little to no lotion now, ghost over his mouth, and his lip quivers under the pressure. You rub, stretch, tease the tender flesh until it slips from your touch and bounces back into place. His jaw slackens, inviting—waiting—and then, when you least expect it, his tongue flickers out, hot and wanting.

Oh. You think you’ve reached the edge of indulgence, but then he redefines it for you—his lips close around your fingers, and he sucks.

“Oh, fuck, Viktor,” you moan, shameless, shifting closer. Your thighs close around his ribs, and he shudders, hips jerking forward, pressing the thick, insistent heat of him against you.

His hand closes around your wrist, thumb stroking the pulse beneath your skin when his tongue curls around the tip of your fingers, tracing every ridge and every sensitive dip. He sucks, drawing them deeper, the wet heat of his mouth sending a bolt of warmth rivalling the sun down. His teeth graze—just lightly, teasing—before he soothes the spot with another languid swipe of his tongue.

A sharp inhale catches in your throat. "Viktor—”

Your name hovers on the edge of his breath as he pulls off, lips parting with the softest pop. His pupils are dark and blown wide, fixed on your mouth like it holds the answer to something he’s been dying to know. He licks his lips before murmuring, “What about your lips?” His voice is rough, almost hoarse, and he swallows hard, the bob of his Adam’s apple visible in the dip of his throat.

You blink, breath uneven, caught between teasing and the cramp twisting your stomach. “I don’t know, Viktor,” you say innocently. Your fingers brush your own mouth, still slick from his. “If you’d be so thoughtful.”

Viktor leans forward, twisting his fingers into your hair, his free hand slips bravely to squeeze your ass and then hook into your hip, just as he wanted. And indeed, it’s made to be held, the lovely hip of yours. His lips cover yours entirely, wet and filthy as he cocks your head back so his tongue can dip in properly. You can taste the balm of you and the salt of him as you slide your hands up his ribs again, graze your nails against his neck to finally settle into his hair. Viktor fills your mouth with moans, and they all taste so sweet you could melt.

A low groan rumbles against your chest when you roll your hips against him, hist body answering with a sharp involuntary thrust. Sand tickles your ankles as your hook them over each other behind Viktor’s back and press on him hard and Viktor swears to God, he’s about to roll you over and fuck you, because he can’t stand it, when—

“Jayce! Get out of the water, you’re burned!” Mel’s voice reaches you from the nearby.

“Shit,” you squirm, still holding his face. “You—oh God. Lay on your stomach,” you offer eyeing the tent in his trunks, apology seeping from your tone.

“Shit, indeed,” he chuckles, cheeks flushed, and he sighs, as if considering if it’s worth the risk after all. Moment lingers, but he finally untangles his legs from underneath yours and with a grunt splays flat on his belly, a book marking his innocence opens on a random page when he makes himself look engrossed in it.

Mere seconds later, Mel, looking like she was just made by the gods, emerges over the crest of the sand dune, Jayce right behind her, his nose and shoulders glaring red. His still-cold body slumps down next to Viktor in the shade. He pokes Viktor’s calf with his toe and asks, “So? Not too bad, is it?”

“Who said it was going to be bad?” Viktor responds, his nose buried in his book.

“Well, you— Ow!” Jayce hisses when Mel spurts a cold gush of sunscreen onto his back.

Viktor only smiles, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Oh no. I love the beach,” he says, grinning stupidly. “Most ardently.”

“Good to know, V,” Jayce smiles, knowing. “I’ll make sure we come more often.”

[allbark-no-bite]

don’t write checks you can’t cash.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 3.6k)

summary: jake seresin is under your skin. or maybe you’re under his. either way you’re going to eat each other alive. jake isn’t about to take the fall

warnings: mentioned age gap, heavy sexual tension (the smut is coming i promise)

author’s note: back on my topgun bullshit bitches (respectfully). i’m not usually one for multi part fics but i actually wrote something with plot for once so please just bear with me. loosely inspired by Zach Bryan’s ‘nineball’. please note this fic title is subject to change bc i hate it

(you can read part 2 here!)

————————————————————————

You don't believe in love at first sight. You think the whole concept is some foolish idea that people who have already fallen in love have the liberty of saying they believe in. Then people who have been through failed relationship after failed relationship are convinced that they're never going to fall in love because it just doesn't happen. The whole idea pretty much just sets the rest of the population up for failure from the start.

Even the concept of finding the right person one day and growing to love them is hard for you to grasp. Because how can you love someone that much? How do you know you love them enough?There are some days that you don't enjoy the presence of even your closest friends for very long, friends who you would do anything for. Even family, you only tolerated so much.

Your high school boyfriend hated that about you, the fact that you realistically needed so little of him—or anyone for that matter. You have always been violently independent, able to provide what you require, and therefore having to maintain a simplistic relationship became nothing but a monotonous task. Even most of your closest friendships faded with time.

Eventually, you prosed the question: what can someone else give me that I cannot give myself?

The answer was companionship. Because when you strip away everything from a person and all they have left to offer you is themself, you have to be willing to choose them. And sometimes that's not the most appealing quality.

Something did happen, the first time you made eye contact with Lt. Jake Seresin, but it was far from love. It was something terrible in your chest, like an aching. Like you knew in your gut that he was going to change your life. Good or bad, you didn't know, but it was certain to happen.

You don't even believe that you two were destined to meet — you just happened to, and in that moment, the damage was done, it was your fate to ruin each other.

——

You like the way he says your name. You like that he says your name on purpose, like he is intentionally seeking out reasons to say it. It's not as harsh sounding coming from his mouth.

"You from around here, [L/n]?"

You're wiping down the glass hatch of your F/A-18 when he approaches you from behind. You swivel your head to catch sight of him behind your back but he's already making a wide circle around you, his chin tipping up then down as he inspects your plane from behind his tinted aviators.

As you watch him scrutinize your aircraft, you regard him with a certain level of apprehension. Jake Seresin was nothing short of gorgeous. He was six feet of bronze skin and lean muscle, withbright green eyes, and a movie star smile. Not to mention the southern accent that had girls drooling over him.

"Austin," you correct him. "Austin, Texas."

You'd been transferred over to Miramar a little over a month ago, becoming the newest addition to the Dagger squad. California was a nice change of scenery, and everyone you had met so far had welcomed you with open arms. That is, everyone but Lt. Seresin— Hangman as they called him. You were still trying to find your footing with him.

You genuinely don't know what his problem is with you. The guy had hardly even given you a glance since the moment you'd arrived. Your first guess would have been that he was one of those dickheads who didn't like women working in the field, but his relationship with Phoenix disproved that theory.

Your answer seems to warrant his attention, and he looks up. His expression twitches at the correction but he doesn't say anything in response. For the first time since you arrived at Miramar, still, unsmiling green eyes catch yours from across the aircraft.

You hold his gaze. After a moment, your stomach twists in an unsettling way, like even it doesn't know what to do with itself. Your first instinct is to look away. Your brain is telling you that if you do, you can avoid any sort of confrontation that may happen as a result. But it's like you can't.

This is the first time he's looked at you, and now you don't dare to look away.

Even from behind the tint of his perfectly polished aviators, you can make out the distinct color of his green eyes. They're so distracting that you have to remind yourself to breathe.

After what feels like eons of uncomfortable staring, he breaks your gaze —surely it couldn't have been longer than a few seconds. Flustered, you glance around to see if anyone else has picked up on the affair. Fortunately, or unfortunately, you're not quite sure which, it's nearing 6pm and the base is on the better side of empty. It's a Friday evening and everyone is eager to head out for the weekend.

Someone clears their throat. Hangman is still standing there, hands shoved in his pockets like he doesn't have anywhere better to be. You want to say something but your gut is telling you that there's some sort of game going on here and you're not sure of the rules.

Finally, he faintly nods his head, as if to excuse himself, and turns to walk away. You watch his retreating back and relax a little, breathing a bit easier.

As you're turning back to your plane, relieved that the interaction is over, you hear him call back over his shoulder.

“The team is heading to the Hard Deck at nine. Don't be late."

And then he's gone, disappeared between one of the hangars.

——

For nine thirty on a Friday evening, the bar isn't nearly as busy as you'd expected it to be. You don't have to fight for a parking spot out front and there's not even a line at the bar. Other than a rowdy looking gaggle accumulating at the pool table, the atmosphere is pretty laid back. Looking around as you walk further in, there is a handful of people in civilians, but the majority of the crowd is composed of off duty aviators in their summer khakis.

You're about to head over to the bar top, where you were sure you had spotted Captain Mitchell, when someone shouts your name.

"Hawk!"

Your head swivels at the sound of your callsign, and you catch sight of Rooster beckoning to you over at the pool table. Immediately you recognize the familiar faces of the Dagger squad around him. You acknowledge him with a smile and head over to join them.

“And here we thought you were going to be a no-show," the brunette pilot chirps, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as soon as you're close enough. You lean into his embrace while touching his chest with a friendly pat of your hand. Bradley is by no means close to drunk but most definitely more than a little buzzed if you're going off of the smell of beer and lime on his breath and the occasional involuntary twitch of his mustache.

"I thought about it, but I can't keep letting you guys have all the fun," you laugh, holding out your other arm so that you can greet Natasha with a hug as Rooster releases you.

After hugging you, she presses a sweating bottle of beer into your hand. "Coyote bought everyone a round so I figured I'd save you one before the boys wiped them out. Sorry if it's a bit warm, you did show up fashionably late."

You playfully roll your eyes at her, taking the beer anyhow. "Thanks, Phe."

Payback places a large palm on the top of your head, diverting your attention towards him as he returns from the bar. "Don't let her fool you, we're just getting started over here. Rooster isn't even drunk enough to get on the piano yet."

Laughing, you glance over at the brunette aviator. "Now that I've been waiting to see. I hear you're quite the show, Bradshaw."

Since you transferred over to Miramar, you had been hounded nonstop to go out drinking with the team for weeks, and Rooster's infamous performance had been one of their key selling points. That and the fact that the owner, Penny, often gave them free drinks. Apparently she had a thing for Captain Mitchell.

Rooster grins, leaning against the pool stick in his hand as he waits for Fanboy to take his shot. "Let me get a couple more beers deep and I promise you won't be disappointed."

As you go about making your rounds to greet everyone else, you can't help but notice that there's someone missing. After you take a seat beside Bob to watch Rooster and Fanboy play, you glance around the bar a few times, convinced that you've somehow overlooked him despite the fact that the place isn't busy enough for that.

An almost disappointed feeling pulls at you despite how ridiculous the realization makes you feel.

After spending the better part of an half hour trying to push the feeling away, you finally spot a familiar head of blonde hair over at the dartboard. He's by himself, about three darts in and half a bottle of beer down. So much for the personal invitation, you think.

You watch as he throws a dart, practically without so much as aiming whilst contemplating whether or not you even have it in you to muster up the courage to face those green eyes again.

Without giving yourself the chance to back down, you swallow back the rest of your now warm beer and head over.

He tosses another dart just as you reach him, and it finds itself dead center with the previous three.

"With a hand like that, you should be kicking Rooster's ass over there in pool," you say as you come to a stop behind him.

Walking away from the dartboard, Jake turns to grab his bottle of beer from the table beside you.

"I'm not much of a betting man," he huffs, leaning back against the table. The muscles of his biceps bugle distractingly against the sleeves of his uniform.

You look back over your shoulder, watching from a distance as Fanboy's cue clips the eight ball and sends it ricocheting off the sidewall. He groans, and Rooster whoops triumphantly from behind him.

"It wouldn't be much of a bet. Even with his winning streak, I think you'd give him a run for his money."

Hangman takes a sip from his bottle, mouth lingering on the rim before he sets it back down and crosses his arms. "Rooster's all luck and no skill. The table's got a lean."

You raise your eyebrows at the confession, half laughing at his lax confidence. "Oh? And you would know this how?"

"C'mon, son. Fuckin' hit it in."

Body tense, his arm quivers ever so slightly and the pool stick bobs shakily in his hand. He closes his eyes and takes a breath in.

"I haven't got all day, kid."

He breathes out and breathes back in. The smell of cigar smoke and cheap beer swims in his head.

"What're you doin'?! Quit wastin' time."

He exhales, opens his eyes, and hits the pool stick forward. The white cue ball shoots out to the left, bounces against the eight ball, and sends it hurdling towards the side pocket. At the very last moment, it veers off to the left and falls into  the back corner pocket instead.

The man standing on the other side of the table curses, his pool stick dropping to the ground, but Jake pays little mind to him. He straightens, looking around eagerly for the only set of eyes that matter. The grin falls from his face when he realizes the old man isn't even watching, too busy counting out his prize money and yanking out a ten to hand to the bartender.

Jake looks up at the clock on the wall over his shoulder.

12:57 am

"Dad, I wanna go home."

"Not yet, son. I've already got fifty put down on another round."

"Want me to show you?"

His offer makes you pause, and you can't help but cock your head a bit as you try to weigh out just where this is heading. For weeks he has acted as though you barely even existed and now you're engaged in the longest conversion the two of you have had since your arrival.

Jake finishes his drink and sets the bottle down whilst walking over to you. "Final offer. Take it or leave it."

You laugh a little before stepping back so that he can make his way to the pool table. "Lead the way then." But before you can make it too far, his palm finds the flat of your back, pressing you forward so that you're in front of him. You're glad he can't see you because your face flashes hot at the unexpected contact.

"I'm not the one playing, kid. I'm just going to show you the ropes."

"Oh, I didn't-"

Any objections you have about the situation are ignored as he pushes you firmly in the direction of the pool table and asks Payback for his cue. "Look alive, Bradshaw. Hawk is about to show you how this thing is done."

Straightening his wide shoulders, Bradley grins, smug and easy as you and Hangman approach the opposite side of the table. "And here I thought you were here to reclaim your throne now that I'm intoxicated."

Jake grins back. "You don't need to be drunk for me to do that."

Bradley's mustache twitches, but he's still smiling. "Sure."

Jake turns back to you, placing the pool stick in your hand. You can't help but think that his expression is all too confident for someone who has never even seen you play pool.

"Nervous?" he asks as you take the stick from him.

"Should I be?" you ask back, turning your head to watch as Rooster takes the liberty of breaking the rack.

He shakes his head, his green eyes glowing with a warmth that you've yet to see from him. "Not as long as you don't totally suck."

Seeing that it's your turn, you brush past him to stand at the table. "I guess I'll let you be the judge of that."

Thankfully you've played your fair share of pool and so you're able to hold your own for most of the game. Jake remains criminally silent as you play, arms once again crossed as he leans against a nearby stool, but you can feel his gaze burning into your back the entire time. It isn't until the end of the game and you've missed the same ball multiple times that he steps in.

"Shift left," he directs you. When you glance over at him, he nods his head as if to insinuate where you should move but doesn't move from where he's planted himself since the beginning of the game.

Hesitantly, you shuffle over a half step and take the shot. The ball comes closer than you have been but still hits the sidewall just short of the pocket. You huff in frustration, and Rooster steps forward to take his turn, sinking his second to last ball in the same pocket.

"I hope you're ready to buy the next round, Seresin. Looks like Hawk is losing her nerve," Bradley goads, unable to keep himself from boasting a little at your expense. When it comes to Hangman, he can't resist the chance to taunt him.

You roll your eyes at his comment, not bothered so much by it as compared to the fact that you're losing. When it's your turn again, you line up the ball and lean down to assume your position when Jake stops you.

All the sudden he's right beside you, palm pressing into your hip to scoot you to the side. "Move over." When you look at him like he's crazy, he huffs. "C'mon, do you want my help or not?"

It isn't so much of a question as it is a statement and the press of his hand against your side doesn't leave you much of an option and so you shuffle over to the far right side of the pool table.

Before you can even comprehend what's going on, he's leant over you, his impossibly tall frame pressed to your back so that he can reach around you and guide your hands. One wraps around your hand on the stick and the other cups your opposite elbow.

It takes everything in you not to jerk away, overwhelmed by his sudden proximity. Instead you try to focus on controlling your hammering heart and pray he can't tell how clammy your palms suddenly are.

"Hey, that's not allowed," Rooster complains. "Is that allowed?"

Coyote shrugs. "It's not not allowed."

Distracted by their bickering, his voice in your ear nearly makes you jump. "Hit the cue ball. Hard."

The lean press of his body is almost enough to distract you from the fact that he's done a god awful job of lining up the shot. There's not one alternate reality where you make this shot.

"You can't be serious."

He's so close that you feel him smile beside your ear. "Dead."

"Any day now," Rooster prompts, as if you aren't aware that Jake Seresin has been pressed against you for an uncomfortably long amount of time. And if Hangman has noticed the fact that your heart is fluttering erratically inside your chest or that your skin is flushed hot to the touch, he doesn't let on. 

"I'm waiting," he reminds you, his voice placid in your ear.

Against your better judgement, you take the shot.

The white cue ball hurtles into the black eight ball with a hard clack and sends it flying across the table. It smashes against the sidewall, exactly as you had expected it to, and you release a breath of defeat. And then something unexpected happens. The ball slows, but instead of bouncing to a stop, it continues to roll left across the table. You all watch as it rolls directly into back corner pocket of the table.

"Well I'll be damned," Payback mutters aloud.

"Hell yeah, [L/n]!" Phoenix shouts, her loud and robust voice ringing out across the bar. "Shots are on Bradshaw!"

"Thanks buddy," Coyote laughs, teasingly grabbing the back of the brunette aviator's shoulders as he heads off for the bar.

Bradley waves them off, looking a bit miffed but still good naturedly accepting his defeat.

"How about it? You're a cold blooded killer."

Like a bucket of ice water being dumped over your head, the sound of Hangman's voice coming from behind you jerks you back to reality. You haven't even noticed that he'd stepped away. Something inside you twinges at the loss of his body pressed against yours.

You turn around to face him, your brain still trying to comprehend what just happened.

"How'd you do that?" you ask incredulously, your tone almost accusing. A deeper part of you wants to ask 'why did you do that' but the smile on his face stops you.

His top row of pearly white teeth that you glimpse is pristine, however brief, before his pink lips come back together in a more subdued smile. It's an expression that is so very genuine and carefree that it sends a spark straight through to your heart. You've never seen him actually smile before, and especially not at you.

"You're smiling," you accuse before you can stop the words from coming out of your mouth, half giddy at the discovery yourself.

Jake looks slightly away, turning his head briefly in order to suppress his smile before looking back to you. “Yeah? So?” His green eyes are twinkling as he says it, like he knows he’s been caught.

You jab the short end of the pool stick into the center of his chest, but he’s quick to grab it before it can find home.

“Up until yesterday, you could barely stand to even look at me,” you say.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “That’s not true.”

“So you’re saying that I’m seeing things.” You try to tug back on the pool stick but Hangman doesn’t release it.

“I’m saying you shouldn’t be seeing things.”

With that, a larger portion of the previous smile is gone from his face, a more sober look replacing it.

Just like that the spark fades. Even though you want to shut down, turn your back to his face and just walk away. You force yourself to keep talking, holding your voice steady. “I don’t think I’m following you.”

Inside you know exactly what he means.

His eyes flicker up over your shoulder but the Dagger squad has already moved on to crowd around Rooster at the piano.

You clamp your jaw together as he releases the pool cue and crosses his arms in front of his chest. It makes him look more relaxed than he is.

"Look, whatever this is—whatever you think I am, I'm not." He says this with the realistic conviction of someone who knows that even if it is, you can't. He says it like he’s trying to convince himself.

You’re not quite sure how old he is—barely thirty if you had to guess— but he’s older. Too old. Not to mention fraternization is deeply frowned upon.

"I know," you answer firmly. Because you do. Because even if it isn't, you want it, whatever it is.

He stares down at you with those green eyes, his pupils pinpoint sharp. After a moment he heaves a sigh and releases it, nodding his head. “So we’re in agreement?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “We’re in agreement.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

Ocean Eyes

paring: Bob Floyd x female!bartender!reader

wordcount: 2642 (scandalously short for me, I know)

prompt: “It’s like you never really see me. I’m standing right in front of you and you don’t see me!” requested by @gretagerwigsmuse (I am sorry this took so long. I hope it was worth the wait)

note: I couldn't write so I started cleaning up my WIP folder and I found this. I forgot that it was practically done and so I thought, let's share my Bob debut with the world. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): none, I think. Unless you consider canon Hangster one. Also idiots in love.

|| Masterlist ||

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics

Reblogs, comments and constructive criticism are always welcome

!!!Minors do not interact; empty/ageless/minors will get blocked!!!

You love Bob Floyd. It’s pretty obvious to anyone who has eyes. At least that’s what you always hear from your best friend and yet he showed never any interest in you at all. There is a part of you that realises that this could only mean one thing but acknowledging the hard truth would hurt more than anything. So you ignore it and keep living in the blissful illusion that maybe one day Lieutenant Robert Floyd will wake up and finally see you.

That is until tonight when that hope should be shattered for good. The night at the Hard Deck when you are dealt the final blow.

“Is that Baby on Board in that booth? Flirting with a woman?”, Hangman is leaning against the bar waiting for you to get a fresh round of drinks ready. The question is directed at Rooster to his right and your gaze follows his and you see Bob sitting in a booth with an absolutely gorgeous redhead.

“Yeah. Phoenix set him up with her old college friend”, Rooster answers, giving you that kind of cautious look that he always sent your way whenever he thought you were in a fragile state and could implode any second. And as if to justify his worries you slam their beers down a little harder than intended and when your gaze meets his, all you see is pity in his pretty brown eyes.

“Rooster”, your voice is barely there, more a growl rumbling in your chest than anything else. It's a warning for your best friend to keep his fucking mouth shut and leave you be.

Not that it would help.

It's something you both love and hate about Bradley Bradshaw. He was not someone who gave up on people. No, he stayed even when shit got hard and you knew he'd be right there by your side through it all, holding your hand and keeping you close because that's just who he is.

And considering the look you get from his worse half, you know the same is true for him. The irony that fucking Jake Seresin would one day be one of your best friends was not lost on you. Especially considering how the two of you started off, but having Hangman cover your back was apparently a perk that came with being Rooster's best friend.

"Don't"

But Brad just lifts his hands in surrender and then they head over to the pool tables where the others are already waiting for them, leaving you behind the bar with the feeling that the shards of your shattered heart were just digging deeper into your flesh with every breath.

“Hey, sunshine”, your head snaps to the side and there you see him sitting at the end of the bar smiling at you the way he always did. The way that made your heart skip a beat and you hated that fucking traitor of an organ. And then your brain intercepts and reminds you of the images of last night. The way she had her hands all over him, turning him into a blushing mess as they stumbled out of the bar.

You have to shake your head or you'd lose focus and you cannot afford that. Not on a Saturday night.

It's not like you need to wait for him to order something, you know it all by heart, so you set his usual virgin drink in front of him and put some nuts in a bowl. Both containers are hitting the bartop a tad bit harder than necessary and before he could get another word in you were already gone.

Your behaviour took him off guard. His eyes are still following you when you already busied yourself with the order of another patron at the other end of the bar as if you wanted to get as much space between you and him as you physically could and he couldn't help the unsettling feeling that crept up on him.

This was so not you. There's a reason why they call you sunshine and that's not just because Rooster introduced you like that. You were always sweet and kind and won over the position of the patron’s favourite from Penny within the first week. You always had a lovely smile on your lips and a nice comment for everyone.

But the thing he had always liked most about you was how protective you were, looking out for the people around you. You were just the kind of person who truly cared and didn't just turn it into a performance.

The longer you are lingering on the other end of the bar without giving him even as much of a glace the more uneasy he becomes ultimately deciding to pick up his things and make his way over to the quiet corner by the pool tables that had been dubbed his even back during his Top Gun time. And from over there he has the perfect view of the bar without the hustle and bustle that would only distract from his actual mission. Figure out what was wrong with you.

You seemed tense and your interactions were colder than usual even with people that he knew you loved to bits.

Dave, one of the veterans who frequented the bar had made it a habit to propose to you whenever he saw you. It was a running gag between the two of you but even he couldn't bring an honest smile to your face.

That sure as hell was a first.

Maybe something happened?

Had someone hurt you?

Or did something happen with your family?

The best way to find out was to talk to Rooster.

He was your best friend after all and if someone knew what was going on, then it would be him.

So, Bob waited patiently until he took a break from the pool game before approaching him.

“Is something wrong with sunshine?”

Rooster arches his brow at the question, stops drinking mid-swig and puts his bottle back down.

“What should be wrong with her?”

Bob tilts his head while he studies the other's features.

He couldn't be serious about that question. Rooster always claimed to know you best of them all and he honest-to-goodness wanted to tell Bob he didn't see what was going on.

“She’s curt and tense. She didn’t even smile at Dave's proposal”

Rooster’s brow arched even more.

God for someone as observant as Robert fucking Floyd he was pretty goddamn blind when it came to you.

“Even if there was something it wouldn't be my story to tell”, he raises his bottle back up and takes a sip of his beer, watching Bob’s mind running  100 miles an hour while he tried to figure out how to proceed.

“If you wanna know what’s going on there is a simple solution”, he prompts him. He had sworn to keep his mouth shut about your feelings for Bob but helping him figure it out on his own was not breaking that promise.

At least not in his book.

“And that would be?”

“Fucking ask her, Baby on board”

Jake groaned over from the pool table and rolled his eyes.

He was so done with this kindergarten bullshit. Watching you and Bob was worse than his dance with Rooster pre-uranium mission and he knew they had been unbearable to watch.

His boyfriend shoots Hangman an angry look as if to remind him of their promise but he just rolls his eyes and sighs.

Hangman likes you, a lot. Some might even go so far as to say he loves you. Very much platonic but it's love nonetheless.

You were a major part of Rooster’s life and therefore you became a fixture in his and if he had to listen to you crying yourself to sleep one more goddamn night over fucking Baby on Board then he’d be the one going on a bloody rampage.

So Jake stalked over to Bob and stared him right in his blue eyes, his green gaze cutting like a knife.

“That wasn’t a suggestion Floyd”, he growled, nodding over to where you handed out drinks at the bar, doing everything within your power to not look their way.

Bob had no idea why the other ganged up on him like that but he couldn’t remember the last time Hangman had been this mad. With his gaze flittering between the two men and you at the bar he decided it was indeed probably smartest to talk to you as soon as possible.

“Can you please get a box of whiskey from storage?”, you barely hear Penny’s voice over the constant chatter of the bar and the music coming from the jukebox when she hands you the key.

You had tried to keep your brain busy all night and lucky for you, the Saturday had provided you with enough to do to grant yourself a small reprieve from the pain that had settled in what was left of your heart after last night.

You nod at Penny and weave through the crowd in front of the bar, attempting to smile at the patrons that greeted you but you knew that this was just a facade and considering the many concerned looks, they knew too.

When you finally got to unlock the door of the storage closet stepping inside and pulling the door closed behind you as you were heaving a sigh the muffled sounds of the bar were still echoing in your ear. You loved this place and the Hard Deck had always felt more like home than the house you shared with Rooster and Hangman. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. The air was stuffy and full of dust but it was the closest to a break you could get just about now.

That was until the sudden creaking of the door made your heart rate pick up.

"This is for staff only", your eyes are wandering around to find something to use as a makeshift weapon just in case one of the guys got so drunk he forgot his manners and basic human decency. You find a large vodka bottle, pick it up from the shelf as you turn around, almost dropping it when you are met with blue eyes.

"Fuck Bob, you scared me", you place your free hand over your heart, putting the Vodka bottle on a small table.

"I'm sorry, sunshine", your eyes wander over him and it's only then that you see how he's not really daring to look into your eyes and he's fidgeting with his hands.

"What are you doing back here Bob?", you are crossing your arms over your chest and take another step back from him, almost making you hit the shelves full of liquor behind you.

He had never seen you so distanced and borderline standoffish around any of the daggers. You were someone who needed to be close, someone who thrived on touch and physical forms of affection, but you were fleeing from him and he couldn't have imagined something as simple as a step back to hurt that bad.

"I... I was wondering...", he started and then you were the third person today looking at him with an arched eyebrow and he felt like a first grader who's supposed to take his SAT.

"What were you wondering?", you said, the tense edge still audible in your voice sent a shiver down his spine.

Bob had never met this cold version of you and he hated every second of it. He loved your warmth, the way you were lighting up even the darkest room. You were the embodiment of a sweet summer day, full of sunshine and blooming flowers with enough of a breeze to make it perfect but right now you rivalled the worst arctic winter.

"Why are you so cold with everyone?"

"I am not"

"Of course you are. You didn't even smile at Dave's proposal", he sees the way your eyes get wider for only a moment before you put that facade back in place. So the real you was hiding somewhere behind that mask you put on.

"Yes I did"

"No, you didn't. Not for real"

The fact he had actually noticed took you by surprise, but the dull ache in your chest reminded you that just because he happened to notice one thing today it didn't mean that anything changed.

The silence hanging between the two of you was deafening and the longer it lasted the more nervous Bob got.

You two had never had an issue with talking. You were probably the one person he always felt like he could talk to even if he didn't feel like interacting with anyone else. But now it felt like you were two ships in the night, drifting farther and farther away apart.

"Please. I just want to...", his voice sounds pleading and the way he reaches his hand out for you prompts you to take another step back. You cannot handle his touch, that much you know but in your desperate attempt to keep the tears from running down your cheeks you forget that you have a mouth too.

“It’s like you never really see me", the words are spilling from your lips before you even realise it, hands flying to your mouth to stop yourself. The tears that were pricking at your lashline before began to run down your cheek when you see the way his eyes widen mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice again.

"There hasn't been a single day when I didn't"

You force your eyes shut to stop the tears from running, shaking your head as you hear him take step after step closer into your space and crowd you against the shelves.

"I don't think I couldn't"

"Then why does it feel like I’m standing right in front of you. and you don’t see me?”, your voice is small and quiet, almost drowned out by the muffled sounds from the bar but once they sink in, Bob's eyes are darting all over your face, trying to figure out what you truly meant.

You open your eyes, tears still glittering as you look up at him. He sees so many emotions swirl in them ranging from pain and fear to something softer. Something he never dared to dream of finding in your eyes when you looked at him. And then he caught your eyes wandering from his to his lips and back up.

It was not much more than a flicker, something easily missed if he had blinked at the wrong moment.

"I always see you, sunshine", his voice is soft as he takes another step closer and leans down, slow and cautious as if he's trying to gauge if he had gotten what you implied right, but you stayed frozen in your place, closing your eyes again until you feel his nose brushing against yours and your foreheads touching.

"And what about last night?", you feel like you are caught up in a dream, fearing the moment your alarm would go off and you'd have to get up and back to a reality where Bob dated someone else and you were damned to only stand there and watch.

"Jolene is nice but all she's ever seen is the uniform and the glasses. She never bothered to really look at me. She didn't see me", he lifts his hands and rests them on your cheeks, thumbs gently caressing your skin as his eyes search yours for any sign that you do not want this.

"Not the way you did when we first met", you feel like you are getting lost in the endless blue of his ocean eyes, warm breath fanning over your face as you lean in to kiss him.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always

If you want to read more you can find my masterlist here

[peterm4rker]

(𐙚⋆.˚) wondering why

⋆ 𐙚 ⭑.ᐟ [mark x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 2.5k w. none, lmk if you find any! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

hey siri! play "wondering why" by the red clay strays

she comes from silver spoon, golden rule, private school never missed sunday church

mark watched you from his place next to his father.

the way you focused on whatever you seemed to be embroidering, eyebrows furrowed and tongue poking out of your lips slightly. he couldn’t help himself, his eyes refused to move away from the astonishing beauty of your smooth skin and pretty eyes. his heart began to race as you looked up at him, catching his stare. he thought you were going to be weirded out at his dirty figure, but he was met with the prettiest smile he had ever seen. he smiled back instantly, his eyes lighting up with wonder before he was obliged to head back to earth by the voice of his father.

“mark, the scissors.” his voice was serious, a warning hidden in his tone. the boy muttered a small “sorry” as he hurried along to get the tool to his father. when he looked back at you, your eyes had long moved from him, and you didn’t meet them again until your own father’s voice rang.

“yn, come over here for a second” he spoke, his demanding tone almost sending a shiver down mark’s spine. you hurried over without a word, eyes connecting with mark’s for only a few seconds. “i need a dress made for her, she will be presented to society now that she is finally of age… the young man should start taking her measurements, the dress cannot be anything short of perfect for my princess.” 

your eyes were glued to the floor, as if you were ashamed of your father’s words. mark stared for a couple more seconds until his father nudged his side, urging him to follow the man’s orders. he moved quickly to grab the measuring tape and approach you. you raised your arms to give him the liberty to do his job, your lips chewing on your bottom lip out of nervousness. 

“i’m sorry you have to do this” you whispered, only for him to hear. your voice was sweet like honey, and it made mark’s insides twist in knots.

“i don’t mind” he muttered back, a small smile on his lips as he hid his desire for closeness behind the excuse of doing his job.

at eighteen years old, mark knew he wanted to marry you someday.

and i come from blue collar, low dollar out here where concrete meets old red dirt

“you better be finding inspiration and not getting more of those impossible ideas of yours” mark’s father spoke as his reflection walked by mark’s on the glass. the young boy’s eyes were fixated on the suit that stood behind it, mind imagining himself wearing it while waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs of your house.

“are they really that impossible?” he asked, his tone breathless as he forced himself to tear his eyes away and jog to catch up with the man. he knew the answer he would receive, but he wanted oh so badly for it to change.

“dreams are dangerous for people like us, son” there was a hint of defeat in his father’s voice as they walked up the stairs that lead to your home. “we make the dress, not marry the bride.”

and those words stuck with him for days on end as he moved around you, sharing tender and oh so loving gazes as he pinned fabric around your body for a day he knew he would not be there to witness.

“you have soft hands” your voice rang in his ears, interrupting the peaceful silence that surrounded you in the empty room. “compared to your father’s”

“less years of hard work, he would say,” he mumbled as he stood behind you, fixing what would be the corset of your debutante dress.

“where is he, anyway? i’m sure my father had demanded his work for my big night” the last two words rang with sarcasm.

you felt his hands go more rigid than usual after the question “he has fallen ill, that’s why it's only me today” shit.

“i'm terribly sorry, i shouldn’t have asked” you voiced with regret, and you watched his reflection shake his head in the mirror.

“there is no way you could’ve known” mark reassured, attention still fixated on his job.

“i’m glad he has you to continue his labor” you spoke again, voice more tender this time.

mark’s eyes rose to find yours in the reflection, an eyebrow slightly raised. “do you, miss ln?”

his voice had sounded deeper than it usually did, and the way his breath hit the skin of your shoulder made a shiver run down your spine.

“i do.”

and i don't know what happened but it sure don't add up on paper

the day had finally come. where you would walk down a flight of stairs wearing the dress that he made, a soft melody in the background that he wouldn’t get to hear while you held a hand that wasn’t his.

mark sat in the sand of the beach near your house, watching the ocean reach and recoil from his touch as you had done so many times in the past months. his eyes felt dry at the lack of the tears they had grown used to now that his father was gone, but there weren’t any left to relieve the itchiness. 

his hands played with the sand on his side, enjoying the warmth that contrasted how cold the skin of the last hand he held was. mark felt guilty, really, that he couldn’t keep his mind off of you even when his father had died. but he had spent months yearning for the moment he could tell you how gut wrenchingly in love he was with you, with the way you spoke, with the way you looked at him. and now he was too late, because he knew that if he had any chance with you before that stupid, rich people, ridiculous ball you had to attend, it was gone now. there wasn’t a single chance that you were going out of there without having been introduced to all the respectable, equally rich young men that your mother would just love to set you up with.

that’s what he thought, of course, before he heard your voice calling him from the distance. he snapped his head towards the sound, knowing that it was probably just his mind playing tricks on him. but it wasn’t, you were there, running up to him with your long white gown and your chest heaving as you tried to regain your breath.

he didn’t waste any more time before running in your direction, arms flying to support your tired body. “yn? what are you doing here?” he asked once he was finally at your side.

“i got in a fight with my father and ran away. i can't do it, mark” he noticed the way your face was wet with tears and guided you to sit down, hoping you could catch your breath before you passed out.

“what can’t you do?” he questioned further, his heart racing with possibility.

“i can’t be paraded like that when i know i’ve already met the man i want to spend my life with” your voice sounded more stable now and your eyes bored into his.

mark felt his breath hitch at your words “you have?”

“of course, why else did you think i ran all the way here? i was hoping to find you” your eyes didn’t leave his for a second, and he could see the honesty through them.

he didn’t answer your indirect confession, he didn’t have the words. the only thing he could do was press his lips to yours in a tender but passionate kiss, hoping that was enough to tell you he felt the same.

but when i close my eyes late at night you can bet i thank my maker

“i’m sorry, i know it's not much but, uhm, you can take the bed and i’ll take the couch” mark spoke nervously as you entered his small house. you had stopped on your tracks, eyes wandering around the space.

“it's perfect” your voice made his eyebrows furrowed. he knew his house was far from perfect, even more in the eyes of someone like you.

“i don’t think the word “perfect” is the one you're looking for” he muttered, finally catching your eyes as you looked his way.

“i love it, mark” you smiled as you approached him, your hand shyly moving to his blushing cheeks. “i’m serious”

he couldn’t help but smile, kissing the palm of your hand in affection. “we should get you out of that dress before you ruin my masterpiece any further”

“already trying to undress me? have some decorum would you” you joked, eliciting a laugh to fall from his lips as he rolled his eyes.

“do you want to sleep with a corset on, then?” he raised his eyebrow. “although i do have to say, you look insanely beautiful” his words made your heart race as you watched his eyes look you up and down slower than he usually would.

“if you ever make me a dress with a corset again i will end your bloodline.” you said, face stoic. mark couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“come on, i’ll give you some clothes and we can go to sleep” he looked at you one last time before guiding you to his room.

he waited outside while you changed, the white gown folded and discarded to the side as you walked towards the door. mark’s breath hitched once again as he saw how beautiful you looked, swallowed by the fabric of his clothes.

“like what you see?” your tone was teasing, but it flew right over his head as he took his time to go back into reality.

“you’re free to take the bed” he stammered as he quickly looked away as he realized how much he had been looking.

“would it be a lot to ask you to stay? i really don’t feel like being alone.” you asked as you looked down, a little nervous at his answer.

“if you’re sure, i would be more than happy to do so” the boy answered, his voice gone soft at the sight of you.

that’s how you ended up under mark’s covers, your head rested on his chest as he caressed your hair softly. you had fallen asleep the moment your body relaxed on his, and mark stayed awake just a few more moments to take everything in and mutter a quick “thank you” to the sky.

she keeps on loving me loves me the way i am

“love, dinner is ready” mark heard your soft voice, seconds before he felt the warmth of your hand on his back.

“thank you, i’ll be right there” he turned his head to give you a tired smile, the eye bags under his eyes making you feel heavy at heart.

it wasn’t long until he sat in front of you on the dinner table, two plates served with hot food. 

“what’s on your mind, markie?” you asked as you noticed the way his eyes were fixated on the table, his fork barely playing with his food.

“this isn’t the life i promised i could give you” he spoke, his voice heavy as his eyes finally met yours.

“isn’t it? last time i checked you promised me a happy life, and i hadn’t known happiness like this until i ran away from that wretched house.” you smiled, reaching to hold his hand in yours. “i know you want to give me a life of glamour and expensive mansions, but we’ll get there eventually. and if we don’t, i don’t care, because you’re here and that’s all that's ever mattered to me.”

mark squeezed your hand as he listened to you, feeling his heart pound with love for you. you never failed to remind him why he had fallen in love with you, nor all the reasons you had fallen in love with him.

she's not just along for the ride she's my biggest fan

“mark!” he heard your voice call out to him as you ran into the house, startling him with the high volume. he looked at you with confusion written all over his face as you shook the newspaper around excitedly. “look at this!”

said newspaper was planted in front of him, a picture of one of his clients wearing one of the dresses he had designed on the front cover. his eyes widened at the sight, his smile following right behind. “one of my dresses is on the front cover?” he asked, astonished.

“not only that! she mentioned you, look!” you pointed at a specific paragraph you had marked on the paper. he read the woman’s praising words toward his work, still not believing his eyes.

“this is insane, i don’t even know what to say…” mark’s eyes moved to yours, a smile overtaking his surprised face as he watched the way your eyes lit up with joy and slowly filled with tears.

your hands slowly made their way to his cheeks, caressing the skin with the pads of your thumbs ever so lovingly “i’m so proud of you, my love”

and right then and there, mark knew there was nothing he could ever do without you cheering for him in every step.

lord, it's a little old piece of heaven when we lay down at night

mark climbed into your new bed in your new house, a slightly bigger one with a more comfortable mattress. it didn’t take long after he settled for you to cuddle up to his chest, looking for his warmth even in your sleep.

his arms surrounded your body and pulled you closer as he left a kiss on your forehead, allowing himself to admire your sleepy face. he remembered the moment you moved into the house, how your unwavering smile faltered at the sight of the bed.

“is there something wrong?” mark asked, his smile falling as he watched your eyebrows furrow.

“the bed is massive,” you answered. his confusion only grew further. what was wrong with a massive bed?

“did you want me to keep the older one, love? it was borderline a twin mattress” he questioned again, looking into your eyes.

“how on earth am i supposed to find you when we sleep?” you answered his question with one of his own. he watched you and waited for your signature laugh to fall from your lips and tell him you were just joking, but it never came.

“baby” the boy couldn’t help but chuckle, moving towards you to place his hands on your hips and bring you closer to leave a cast kiss on your lips. “we’ll be just as close, i will find you even if i have to wake up, i promise.”

his answer seemed to calm your troubled mind as you smiled and pulled him in for another kiss.

she keeps on loving me and i keep on wondering why

“hey mark?” your voice pierced the comfortable silence as you laid on a blanket on your balcony, staring up at the starry sky like you used to do on the terrace of your old apartment. the boy hummed, moving his head to stare at your side profile. “my mother reached out to me today” your words were said barely above a whisper.

mark felt his heart race, his disdain for those you called your family still present. “and what did she say?”

“she told me she saw you in the newspaper” your eyes were still fixated on the sky above “that shes pleasantly surprised about your success and that father wants us to have dinner over at the villa sometime”

mark had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. a family that had never treated him or you as anything but a disgrace were now suddenly eager to enjoy a meal with him. he knew he would rather eat his own chopped liver than spend a minute inside that household, but he would do it if you wanted to. it wasn’t his family nor his place to decide. 

“and what did you say?” he asked and you finally turned your head towards him. mark felt as breathless as he had when he saw you for the first time. your eyes still looked like they held the entire universe.

“i told her to fuck herself” you erupted in a giggle as your words left your lips, and mark couldn’t help but laugh along side you.

he had always wondered why you loved him as much as you did, but god was he grateful you did.

𐙚 blue's corner ;; i love love love this song and i watched the greatest showman yesterday, so i had to write this for my mental sanity. i hope you guys like it ! a special thank you to my beta reader and the cutest person alive @morkiee 𐙚 taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie 𐙚 back to the masterlist. 𐙚 please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

© peterm4rker, 2024

[pomefioredove]

OH MY SEVEN! PLEASE I NEED A PART 2 OF MC GETTING BOUGHT BY NBC (or maybe they get bought by rsa? By like Chenya or Neige?)

part two of the NBC ending is here! very intrigued by the idea of an RSA ending, especially since our knowledge is limited. I also kin snow white so maybe I have a little soft spot for neige.

bonus: I had to stop writing this to save another animal that got inside. second time this week.

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | 'bad' ending

summary: yuu transfers to RSA type of post: short fic characters: neige, chenya additional info: yuu is gender neutral, pretty platonic

This entire ordeal had been nothing if not shady.

From the purpose, to the "donations", to the absence of the prefect themselves...

...And now, the grand announcement- that of which Crowley had been hyping up for days- was cancelled.

"I don't get it," Epel murmurs, walking on a sideways footpath back to the hall of mirrors. "You really think he just took all the money and ran?"

Vil huffs, the disappointment heavy in his voice. "Well, it certainly seems that way. No one's seen him all day,"

Despite the sour mood over the trio of Pomefiore students, the day is bright and sunny. Birds sang, the sun shone, even the wind carried a suspiciously merry tune with it.

"We should not give up hope so soon. Anything could happen," Rook ponders. "Who knows? The day is not over yet."

"I'm starting to wish it was," Vil says. "It's far too jovial for such an underwhelming afternoon. And the whole purpose of this walk was to clear our minds... hmph."

Epel squints ahead, taking in the way beams of sunlight seem to shine through the foliage, casting rays of gold over the usually darker campus.

"Y'know, I betcha- I-I mean, I think you might be onto something. It is unusually cheery today, isn't it?"

Vil huffs. "Wonderful. Nature itself mocks me,"

"Non, it's not the climate which has changed... it's more of a presence. Monsieur Pommette is correct," Rook says. "Something has shifted here."

Vil rolls his eyes, not exactly in the mood to be playing word games with Rook again. He shoots a glare to Epel, warning the boy not to encourage him, and a silence falls over the three.

Though... he still cannot deny that something feels aloof. Something that isn't sitting right with him...

He sighs. "Perhaps we should check on the prefect. Just in case,"

And so the three stop in their tracks and awkwardly, though hurriedly, walk to Ramshackle.

Nothing is quite amiss about the building itself, though, still, there's something hazy and dreamlike about it. A warm, golden glow that turns the rough and brittle exterior into a quaint and charming home, full of light.

"I don't like this," Epel murmurs. Vil does not respond, but he understands. He's having similar thoughts.

Just as they're about to enter, someone tall and dark steps outside.

"Crowley!" all three snap, in varying tones of voice.

The man goes stiff and, for a moment, looks as if he's about to make a run for it- though he thankfully holds his ground. "Ah- good afternoon, dear pupils. Having a... studiful day?"

"That's not a word," Vil crosses his arms and glares. "Why are you here?"

"I was... well... just discussing some things... with... the prefect..."

He sounds utterly nervous.

Vil's eyes narrow. "What are you hiding?"

Before he can answer, the door behind him opens again, and you peer outside, giving Crowley a chance to escape. "Guys?"

"Trickster! We are relieved to see you in good health!"

"Hm? Why wouldn't I be?"

Epel shakes his head. "W-well, you just haven't been around much, and we saw Crowley- hey, where'd he go?"

Vil grumbles something indistinct, massaging his temples. "That man..." he sighs. "But back to business. Are you well? What's happened?"

You look away. "Well-"

Thankfully, before you have to explain it yourself, the door opens wider, leaving the Pomefiore trio face-to-face with the one person they least expected to see.

Neige beams. "Oh, my... hello, Vil! I didn't think I'd run into you here!"

The housewarden's eyes immediately narrow, and it takes him a moment to respond. "Yes, well, as you know, I go to school here. Would anyone care to explain this?"

A voice from behind the trio echoes. "Oh, I volunteer!"

Epel squeaks and jumps (much to his embarrassment) and the other two whirl around to an ever-smiling face they can't quite recall...

"See, we're on the moving squad," Che'nya giggles, slinking back to the front door of Ramshackle. "You wanna know why? I'm sure you're just dying with curiosity, aren't you?"

"I can put the pieces together myself, thank you," Vil murmurs. "But I do have a few questions."

Che'nya opens his mouth wide again-

"-Not for you," he turns to you. "How? And why, exactly?"

You shrug, looking to Neige for help.

Which he gladly provides, of course. "Well... it was more of a school decision. We heard what was happening, and held a vote," he says, speaking tentatively while under Vil's astute gaze. "We've heard lots about how much your prefect has helped here, and how unfortunate their circumstances are, and... well..."

"A person like that just doesn't go to NRC," Che'nya snickers.

Vil glares for a moment longer, and then sighs. "Well... this is certainly a turn of bad luck for the lot of us,"

"But I can visit!" you insist.

Neige and Che'nya both nod in agreement, though the latter's placid smile makes his approval seem less genuine.

"Well," Vil says, turning to the boys beside him. "Don't you two have anything to say?"

Epel clears his throat, trying his best to sound light and formal. "I think it's... it's... I'll miss you," he sulks.

"A magnifique opportunity! Think how much you will learn, how many new people you will meet- oh, you must allow me to visit often! I could not bear to let you make all these beautiful discoveries on your own!" Rook says, dabbing the corner of his eyes with a handkerchief.

"Why am I not surprised?" Vil sighs. "Well... I suppose I have a duty to inform the others. And, perhaps..."

He pauses, his watchful gaze fixed on you.

"...We might hold a vote of our own."

[fxtalitygod]

EPILOGUE. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy mentions, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 1-2x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), implied incest mentions

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: Today marks the day I finish this series. Guys, I cannot believe it took me two years to finish this damned series. Do not get me wrong, I loved writing it, but boy, it was a major pain in my ass. As corny as it sounds, thank you all for sticking with me throughout this series. When I originally posted the first chapter, I did not expect ANY attention whatsoever; it was just a self-indulgent thing I wanted to write because I wanted a better representation of (Y/n) where, yeah, she may not be the strongest. However, she still knows how to make do with what she has and make that her strength. I also wanted to give a more realistic relationship with the pairing. As much as I love Sukuna's character, I did not believe him to be a character capable of "true love" but a character that values others but not in the way you might think. I'm talking literal value, currency value, and benefit value. I wanted a more realistic take on the story because I did not know how many more historical "Kuna," "Suku," or "Kunie" stories I could take. No hate for those who write it or those who enjoy it; it just isn't my personal cup of tea. I like true crime and dark stories (I have this serial killer project that I'm stoked about because I know I will get my group an A+), so I tend to enjoy those darker sides, which I believe is why I like Sukuna's character so much, he just feeds into that side of me. There are some of the fantasies I enjoy where Sukuna is non-canon, such as AUs and all that, but when it comes to JJK's storyline or his historical AUs, I tend to fall short of enjoyment of that type of fantasy.

Anywho, thank you all for sticking around and enjoy the epilogue. I hope it was worth the wait. I may or may not have written three times because my perfectionism kicked in every time I proofread it, and I found something I did not like and scraped half the chapter. I bet I'll find a little thing here and there when I post this. Still, it won't be anything noticeable, something along the lines of my tags and probably my TW, though Im usually very on point with those kinds of things. Still, it always seems that AFTER I make the post, I really start to notice things even after proofreading it 50x.

P.S. I plan to do a behind-the-scenes post on all my original ideas. I have worked on this little project for two years, so you bet I had alternatives. Feel free to send me asks or messages asking me about things you are curious about, and I will gladly answer.

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

The market was bustling at this time of day. Workers were heading home from a hard day of work, rushing through the roads as they grabbed ingredients and materials for their households to prepare their meals and homes; everything was so normal...and if she were being honest, it felt strange. The confined life of the temple had practically become a comfort, so when presented with a slice of normalcy, it was foreign and, if she were being honest, alarming as well.

Having so much freedom was intimidating and overwhelming– the fear of having something good and it being taken away was a looming thought that brought many anxieties.

Years have passed since that fated day, Sukuna Ryomen's downfall. Since the fire and the slaughter that had immersed, Sukuna's actions had remained silent. There were whispers of sightings and rumors that the curse user had met his demise, but she knew better. Sukuna Ryomen was unkillable, and if anybody had truly caught a glance of him, they would be dead before they could live and tell the tale.

"Mama."

The world seemed to stop as the word processed through her head. Blood ran cold, and breaths of air seemed to come in at a faster rate. The woman turned to the little girl holding her hand, causing her heart to shatter.

"Darling, I told you not to refer to me as your mother, remember?"

The question remained as a statement rather than an inquiry as if refamiliarizing the child with a rule she had been reacquainted with on multiple occasions.

"I-I know that, but why can I not? You care for me like a mother, so why can I not call you my mother?'

"We have discussed this before, child," the woman sighed, "I believe it unfair to be taking the title of your actual mother."

"Well, if my real mother had not given me away, it would not be like this..."

Pausing mid-step, the caretaker held her breath, controlling the emotions and memories that flashed through her mind. The girl's sentence rang through her head, eliciting a feeling she was not commonly met with... aggravation. With no hesitance, the woman's minimal steps turned into longer strides, her grip even firmer on the young girl's hand. Getting to their place of lodging was more vital than anything, as she wanted to avoid discussing such sensitive matters in a public setting. Prying ears were close enough in such a crowded setting.

Upon reaching the home, the stand-in mother pulled the child inside before shutting the door. She swiftly bent down to the young one's level and took the child's shoulders into her hands. The little girl was shocked by the woman's reaction, staying silent and still as if afraid of what was to come next.

"Child, I will not hear you speak such false claims of your mother. You do not know the sacrifices she made to get you here."

The girl's expression of fear shifted from dread to shame. Her face was red from embarrassment after she was caught for her prior statement. However, as children do, she made it her goal to justify herself.

"What is the point of her sacrifice if she left me. Did she not want to be around me?"

"She did not leave you; if she were still in this world, trust me, she would be right here with you!"

The caregiver's words came out with little thought; all she knew was that she would not tolerate the little girl's false assumptions. However, now that the words spilled out of her mouth, she began to regret them. Seeing the tears well up in the girl's eyes made her wish she had phrased it differently.

"What do you mean?"

The caretaker cursed under her breath before inhaling through her nose, exhaling softly before speaking.

"You deserve the truth, my dear, and the truth is that your mother sacrificed her life to ensure you had a good one. She loved you so much that she valued your life more than hers. You might not understand this now, but that is a mother's love." The woman's breath stuttered, "She loved you more than you could ever know. I will not claim the title as your mother for that reason."

The girl was overwhelmed with emotion, only knowing how to express it through tears. The woman could not bear it and brought the girl close to her chest, embracing her to give any form of comfort that might help– it broke her heart to hear the child's quiet sobs.

After calming down, the kid spoke, though with some light chokes.

"W-what s-should I call you then?"

The warden took a sigh as she thought over her charges question. In all honesty, she had no idea what to say. What answer could she even give her? She could not allow her real name to float between the child's tongue as it would expose her identity. What name could she let the child speak?

"Hmm," the woman loosened her embrace, looking the little girl in the eye with a soft smile, "What do you think you should call me?"

The girl tilted her head, wanting more elaboration.

The lady chuckled softly, "What do you think my name should be, child?"

The caregiver had expected the girl to take some time to come up with an answer; however, the kid took no hesitation when she blurted out...

"Makato-san!"

Silenced engulfed the home as her caregiver failed to respond.

"Makato-san, I'm going to the market. Do you need anything?"

Another prolonged stillness as the young lady waited for a response.

The girl scrunched her brows in concern, extending her neck to look further into the room as if the individual she was looking for would appear. With the growing silence, the young adult searched the home for her guardian.

"Makato-san?"

She searched and examined the silent home with slight panic before finally stumbling upon the older woman, staring blankly at the floor she was kneeling on– unresponsive as she continued to stare.

With caution, Y/n's daughter reached her hand out to her caregiver's, placing it on the woman's shoulder. The response she got was one she had not expected.

The Makato turned suddenly, grabbing onto the young woman's wrist with an ungodly strength that even the girl was unaware of. This caused the girl to wince in pain as she tried to pull her arm away. Her arm was turning a light purple from the lack of circulation, proving the grip's vice.

Despite her fear, the charge could only feel concerned as her caregiver made eye contact, tears welling up in her eyes. It stayed like that for a couple more seconds before she snapped back into reality, gasping as she was presented with the image of her actions, quickly letting go of the young lady's arm.

"I'm so sorry, my Dear. I did not mean to...I was just..." The woman paused, swallowing her following words; however, her stutter did not disappear: "D-D-Did you need something, m-my, Dear?"

"I was preparing to leave and was going to ask if you needed anything from that market," the girl paused, choosing her next words carefully. Makato-san, you've been acting strange as of late. Is everything alright?"

The young woman was old enough to recognize the hesitance in her caretaker's features and the short lack of response.

"Whatever do you mean, Darling?"

"Please do not take me a fool," the youthful female voiced before sighing and looking at Makato in pity, "I'm worried for you, Makato-san. Ever since the refugees from the other village came, you have been behaving irregularly."

The refugees.

To say that their arrival was a shock was an understatement. At first, Makato thought nothing of it until the newcomers began to tell their stories. Their village was burned in a monstrous fire by a "crazed" sorcerer, and their home was now unsustainable to live in as it was left entirely in shambles. Despite this information, Makato thought little of it as there had been few stories of criminal sorcerers destroying homes, most being "inspired" by Sukuna's actions after his sudden hiatus. It was not until an elderly woman, who she happened to hear at random, described the appearance of the sorcerer.

"He was monstrous, the vile thing; he had four arms and two faces if you do not count that horrid mouth on his stomach. I watched both of them grin as it chewed on the remains of my eldest son." the elder choked and sobbed as the memory came back to taunt her.

Makato's heart dropped to her stomach. Rushing home in search of her charge, she found the girl working on her studies. Seeing the child she worked so hard to raise brought relief, but it was not long before the memories and visions began to haunt her. Sometimes, she would see you standing there, looking down at her, motionless and silent, with a pained, pitful look.

She hated it.

When you looked at her that way, she felt weak and vulnerable—as if she were failing. She was not as cool and calculating as you were, nor as confident or intimidating. Had you been here, you would have more than likely been able to disappear from society and find a nice, quiet life for yourself and your daughter. But you were not here; that was the problem– you were just a figment of her imagination.

Even then, she wanted you to stop looking at her that way.

Sometimes, she was left in her privacy and saw your vision appear to accompany her. It would drive her mad as she tried to convince you, even herself, that she was doing enough. She would speak into the silence of the room and get no response.

"What else could you want with me? I am doing everything I can!"

Silence.

"I am happy. She is happy. We are happy. Is that not enough for you?"

Silence.

"He thinks she is dead– he thinks I am dead! There is no possible way that..."

Silence.

"Please, stop looking at me that way. I am capable of doing this...please have faith in me."

"Makato-san?"

Pulling herself from her thoughts, Makato tracked what the girl had said earlier, not wanting to worry about her charge further.

"I apologize for my irregular behavior, my Dear. I can assure you that I am alright. I have had a lot of stress these days regarding the refugees. I want to do my part to assist them, but I have been running myself ragged and am just...tired."

The girl hesitated, not wanting to accept her caretaker's excuse, but she knew pushing the subject would not do her any good, so she nodded in understanding. The worst part is that Makato knew your daughter was aware of her white lie, but she would not admit it for some slim hope that the girl honestly did not know. Sometimes, she wished your daughter had not inherited your intelligence and perception.

"Do you need anything from the market, Makato-san? I plan on leaving soon to aid the refugees."

"No, I believe we have enough supplied for quite a while. All that I ask of you is to be safe, Darling."

Your daughter agreed, letting a soft smile slip onto her face before hugging Makato. The woman accepted the embrace before experiencing a wave of realization. Intelligence and perception were not the only things she inherited from you; she happened to be a real beauty as well.

"My Dear, if you plan on seeing that boy of yours, speak your peace now and know that I only want you to be safe and happy."

The girl struggled to find words before lowering her head in embarrassment, her face bright red with fluster.

"You are of age now, and I want you to know the responsibilities that rest on your shoulders."

"Makato-san, I never meant to keep it a secret. I just...I was afraid of your disapproval."

The more experienced woman could understand where she was coming from. Long ago, she was in the girl's position. However, she was never allowed to pursue her love due to the circumstances of her arrangement, but that does not mean she did not try. Despite her efforts to keep her relationship together, it was all for not in the end. She was given away as a sacrificial lamb to a monster.

Your daughter had a chance of love, and the caregiver would not squander it for her. She wanted your daughter to have a chance at a relationship she never had. Maybe it was questionable on her part due to the circumstances of her mission, but she did not entirely care. She just wanted your daughter to have a normal life.

She knew that was what you had wanted for your child.

"I do not disapprove, Darling. I just want you to be happy and to be careful."

"I promise that I will Makato-san."

There was a pause of awkward silence before the young woman embraced Makato once more.

"Thank you, I'll be back soon."

Makato smiled as she watched her ward leave the home. She had no problem admitting she was happy for the girl, but something deep within her told her it was a bad idea. It was hard for her to come to terms with, but she had an itching feeling that did not settle with her.

The world was perfect at the moment. Your daughter had put smiles on faces from her charity and was now being rewarded with a proposal for her marriage. She hugged her lover, showing her love and adoration in any way appropriate for their stage in relationship. If you were here, you would be beaming with joy, giving consent to the marriage with no hesitation because this is all you could ever want for your girl, and it would have been all you wanted for your twins.

You never had a chance of love and a happy life; seeing your children be able to pursue their lives to the fullest, especially in romantics, would have been considered a blessing to you.

"This is the happiest day of my life, honestly, but have you received my guardian's blessing?"

The young man chuckled, caressing her cheek reassuringly, "I plan on coming over for dinner tonight to ask for your hand properly if you will have me."

The girl could only agree eagerly through her expressions, unable to speak in fear of shouting instead of politely inviting him. Hugging him one last time before parting to rush home and prepare their meal; however, a chill went up her spine the moment she left; everything felt cold, and she could not explain why. Maybe it was the lack of his embrace, but she had never felt that way. There was only one good reason she could name.

Her nerves were getting the best of her...

"What if Makato-san declines."

The young woman's moods changed throughout the day as she prepared for the most significant evening of her life. One moment, she had the goofiest, filled with overwhelming joy, but there were other times when she would find herself chewing her nails from anxiety, and right now, she was having one of those times.

"Dear, stop that. This behavior is far from healthy. What has you behaving this way?"

"Nothing, everything is fine. I suppose I'm just hoping dinner will turn out acceptable tonight."

"Dear, please do not insult my intelligence with these excuses. What is going on that you are not telling me?"

"Well, I—" there was a pause. How was the ward supposed to say anything without giving anything away?

"You what? Spit it out, child, you are worrying me."

"I cannot say. I am sorry. But do not worry, please; something good is about to happen. Please trust me on this."

Makato chewed the inside of her cheek. She did trust her ward, but she had this gut feeling, this sickening feeling that she could not name. Maybe it was just her nerves getting the best of her, so she pushed it aside. She trusted your daughter, the only trustworthy person that Makato knew.

"Alright... is there anything you need help with?

The younger one smiled sweetly, taking her caretaker's hands in her own.

"No, I have it handled. You have been so stressed the past few days that you should just relax. Tonight, all your worries will be washed away." With that, she parted to continue her work for the big news. She was all but too excited.

She was also naive.

She was a sweet little girl, but she was naive. To think all of Makato's worries and problems would go away by simply relaxing, through sweet and simple gestures, was an innocent way to think. It was how Makato raised that girl because she wanted that sweet little girl to have that luxury. There were times she wondered if she had made the right choice, but then she would remember what pain looked like and what too much experience could do to a person.

No, she made the right decision. This is what you would have wanted.

Right?

Yes.

Makato went, and she sat as the young woman finished her final preparations for the meal. The girl looked more stressed than ever, rushing at the final threshold, but it seemed that preparations were finished and she was filling time. She found little things to do that held no significance. She was in her head, making Makato question if everything was truly fine.

Then, the footsteps could be heard. He was here, and everything was going to change. Life was going to change, and it was between her and that door. The biggest day of her life was only a dinner conversation away. So she opened the door and was presented with an image she thought she would never see or experience.

"We must leave. The village is under attack, and we do not have much time."

The smell of smoke was strong, and embers could be seen from a not-to0-far distance. The world came crashing down, and she could not say a thing. She could only stand there with an oblivious smile.

"What?"

Fear, confusion, anger, any negative emotion she could feel, she was feeling. This was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to get a blessing and marry the man of her dreams. Why now? Why this? This could not be real, there was no way.

If the world had crashed down for your daughter, the heavens collided into the earth, dissipating everything in its path in Makato's eyes. The older woman stood, no thoughts running in her head as she strided to the boy, grabbing him by his garments

"You tell me now, and you tell me true, boy! What did you see?!"

Her sudden actions left him too stunned to speak, but after some shaking and calling for his attention, he found himself capable of a response.

"Makato-san, what is happening?" It was like everything hit her at once, but she was still trying to understand why it was happening today– why it was happening now at the most crucial moment of her life.

"I do not know what it was, but it was a man of stature. He was disfigured; he had two faces and four arms. He came without warning, started flames, and began a massacre. His face was cold, as if he felt absolutely nothing."

There was no doubt in her mind that it was him, no doubt her former husband as reigning terror; however, based on the emotionless state of his ambush, bloodshed was beginning to lose its flavor. It was comical, but as much as it had some humor, this was no joke. This was all too real.

Makato grabbed your daughter's shoulder, pulling her out of her shock. Tears were in her eyes, looking at her caretaker pitifully.

"Makato-san, what is happening?"

She was naive, and being naive was safe, but being naive was also unrealistic. Makato gave the girl a sheltered life, eliminating the possibility of danger to the girl. That was no way to live.

"Your father, that is what is happening."

"What?"

And the shock returned. Makato made an effort to avoid mentioning Sukuna in conversation, only mentioning you in light memory. As far as your daughter was concerned, her father did not exist...until now.

"That so-called man is your father, Ryomen Sukuna. That is the man who drove your mother to eventually kill herself," A pause, licking her lip as she readied herself to elaborate, "Your mother sacrificed herself to protect you from him. He drained the life from her and left her no choice but to die, but she gave it purpose. She died to give you a life, a life away from him."

"I-" Your daughter was at a loss for words. Everything was hitting her too fast.

"I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping it from you. I wanted you to have an everyday life, but I should have noticed sooner or later that the truth would reveal itself and that he would present himself one day."

There was nothing to say, only to exchange expressions of fear and dismay.

"W-Well, what do we do now?"

"We run."

Taking the two charges, Makato grabbed whatever necessities they needed to start a new life. She had been planning this since the day she ran from the temple. She would admit that now, with a third party, it would be more complicated than she had intended, but they would make do.

They exited the home frantic. The smell of smoke became more potent, and the embers were closer than before. The flames became more evident as they spread. Any entrance to the main road would have been a route to death, but Makato had never planned to use that path. There was a back trail through the woods, one she had discovered when your little girl was merely five years of age.

They ran towards the thicket, avoiding as many obstacles as possible. Things were looking smooth, with hardly any disruptions. It was almost serene, but that was the issue. To have such tranquility was a nauseating notion for mayhem being at their backs.

It was too quiet to be safe.

And that is when she knew to push the girl and her lover aside, veiling their presence with her technique before everything went black.

Ringing...

Ringing...

And more ringing...

The lights were brighter, and the smoke and ash came straight from the source. She woke up coughing and gasping for air. For a moment, she thought she had been dreaming, immersed in a life that was not hers. Maybe she was waking up, back to her village, back to her parents, back to the life before she got caught in that awful nightmare.

"I am surprised that it was you, of all the women she let live." Sukuna started, looking down at what he believed to be the scum of the earth.

No, it was all too real. His voice registered through her head instantly despite not hearing it in years– at least in person. She had repeated memories, but sometimes she wondered if she had deformed his voice from years of not hearing him speak down on her. Turns out she remembered it accurately. It still managed to send chills down her spine and make her wish to be six feet under the ground.

"I was probably too forgettable for her to ever really care about whether I lived or died." Makato spat.

"That is reasonable enough, but that would not serve her memory well and rather insult her intelligence. I will say that, if anything, my Little Flower was too clever to let such technicality slip from her. She probably pitied you and your fruitless womb, so she gifted you with a child for you to care for in her absence. And knowing your broken state, she probably knew you would be eager at the opportunity."

Makato scowled, turning her gaze to the ground. How dare he speak of you in such a way. He said that as if you were on his level, as devious and conniving as he was, and claimed your actions were selfish when they were the opposite. You did this for her daughter, not for yourself. If you had it your way, you would be there.

"How old is she now?"

She refused to answer, turning her gaze back to the dirt. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of belittling her more than he already had. It was humiliating, but she still had some dignity and a promise she wished to uphold.

"What does it matter? She is dead. (Y/n) told you herself that she was gone."

A sharp pain was felt at the back of her head as he pulled her hair to force the woman to look up at him.

"Do not picture me a fool! For a woman whose last words claimed her daughter was gone, she left me the most humorous smile. I know that age of the girl, but I would rather hear from you, bitch, how long you have been holding her captive."

No response.

"Answer me!" Sukuna snarled, pulling at her scalp once more.

"Nineteen years of age," Makato smiled. Why? Do you wish to act as a father now? Well, you are too LATE! While you were out throwing tantrums, I raised her child, which you would not know how to do without being given exact handwritten instructions."

"On the contrary, you let her potential slip, and now she is nothing but another womb to breed. Unfortunate, due to the heritage of her mother and myself. However, a womb is still useful regardless."

Out of anything Sukuna had done, out of anything he had said to threaten her, that was the most horrifying.

"You are a disgusting bastard."

"Do not speak as if you can fill her shoes as if you have her confidence. You would not be in this position if you were half the woman she was."

"You are right; if I were half the woman she was, I could have easily manipulated you and have you play the role of the arrogant man with an ego so big, he does not notice the knife pointing at his back," A pause as she licked her lips, swallowing to try and quench her dry throat, "Everything that woman did was out of fear, much like everyone else; however, she knew how to tick your interest and she used that to her advantage. Honestly, I am ashamed. I only noticed it when she told me about her plan."

A twitch in his eye, he was irritated. It was known through body language and the knowledge of his nature that he wanted to tear Makato apart, limb from limb, until her body was unrecognizable.

"What? Afraid to face the truth of her decision. She could have run away with ease; she could have killed you, but both of those options would have been considered a mercy for you. She took away the one thing that you valued: herself. That must eat at you a lot."

With a swift motion, he scooped the former wife from her neck, squeezing her throat as he raised her to face him eye-to-eye.

"You are a worthless bitch who cannot even reproduce, summing you up to nothing. What is your worth?"

Nothing but the struggling breaths of the woman attempting to pry herself from this monster's grip.

"Exactly, you are worth nothing."

Darkness, wherever they were, was dark. The girl and her lover were still in the woods, alive as well as they could manage. She could only remember running into this place before being shoved into the dark area. She felt the ground around her and reached her arms out into the pitch black as she tried to navigate this strange place. It scared her.

"Makato-san? Where are you?"

No response, only silence.

It was dark and frightening, and she did not know what to do. What could she do? She could cry, so she did; she cried as she tried to find her way back. This had to be some kind of night terror. She would wake up, and she would be at that doorway, welcoming her lover into their home, eating their meal, and then sharing the news. Her lover would get her caretaker's blessing, get married, and live happily ever after, right?

Dreadfully wrong.

Instead, a hand reached out and pulled her out of the darkness. The world was still unlit, but moonlight and the flames dancing in the distance could be seen nearby; however, she was not a part of the conflict.

She was about to scream, cry for help, anything to get attention drawn to her location, but was stopped by a large palm to the mouth.

"Shhh, my love. It is only me. It will be alright."

For the first time that night, she felt genuine relief. Turning her head to see her man, she looked down at her disheveled features. She weakly smiled, moving herself to embrace him. It all lasted for a few seconds until she realized the missing member of their little group.

"Where is Makato-san?" she whispered.

The man looked down, not daring to respond. She attempted to make eye contact, but he would only look away.

"Where is she?" she insistently asked, but louder.

" I do not know; a couple curse users emerged from the woods. Makato shoved us into the ditch, and when I came out, she was gone."

"Well...Well, we must go look for her."

A grasp to the wrist effectively stopped the girl.

"No, I cannot risk losing you, and I know Makato-san would agree. She would not want you going out to risk your life to save her."

How could he say that? How dare he say that! What right did he have in this decision?

"Then you do not know her." she scowled, trying to withdraw from his hold, but his hand did not budge.

"Then why would she tell you everything had she not already predicted the possibility that she might die."

"Because... because...she needed me to know because if we were going to run away, I would need to put in my own weight by knowing our threat...yes, that was it! Now let me go!" She tried to reason, but not to him—herself.

Denial.

"It was a confession! As if she were lying on her deathbed, she confessed everything to you. She wants you to move on, knowing there are dangers like your father. She wants you to kno-"

"Well, she may not be dead yet, so we have to try!"

With whatever strength she had deep down, she broke free from his grasp, sprinting towards the village and the flame. She could hear him following her, but in her mind, she wanted to believe he was doing it because he could see her reason. He would help; she was sure of it.

She was almost there, and she swore she could see the silhouette of her caretaker, but then she found herself on the ground. It was only for a second before being lifted into the air, a hand covering her mouth as she got further from her destination.

Kicking, muffled screams, and the distant cackling of flames could be heard. She bit her partner’s hand in an attempt that he would let her go from the sudden pain, but he was resistant. He merely grunted and winced while continuing his journey back. But then there was a halt.

There she was, Makato, thrown onto the ground. She could see her in the distance. The woman looked weak but very much alive, and she was right there. The daughter kicked, shoved, jabbed, and bit even more, trying to get loose. However, her lover would not budge because although he could see Makato, he could also see the shadow hovering over the woman, the shadow your daughter was refusing to look at.

Then the shadow disappeared, and the dreadful monster emerged, Sukuna Ryomen, hovering over Makato with disdain. Watching as she tried to crawl away but failed miserably. She was fighting, doing her best, but her fate was inevitable.

Death was the only option, and death is what she got.

Ryomen Sukuna caved into his impulses, ripping her limb from limb until she was unrecognizable. The daughter watched, horrified, as the woman who raised her was mutilated to nothing but a pulp. What sort of sick joke was this? She remained silent as she tried to think of who would pull such a childish trick, watching as the image got smaller until nothing was left. Eventually, it was just a tiny yellow dot in the distance and nothing more; all she could do was look at it.

"Promise me you will live."

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe o-

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

The scream echoed through the dark room, and you tried to comprehend where you were. The walls were closing in, and the air was too thick to breathe. It felt like like suffocation.

What was this?

Why now?

Where is this?

Why is this?

How is-

"Y/n!"

You snapped back into reality, frantically looking at your surroundings to notice you were in your bedroom.

"Y/n, what happened? Are you okay?"

The silence was tense as you sat there, trying to remember your nightmare. You thought long and hard, but in the end, you had nothing.

"I...I don't know."

You heard a sigh, a hand rubbing your back, and another reaching for your cheek, wiping the stray tears you were unaware of.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight, again?"

Some of you wanted to say no, but the opposing side longed for it. You stared at the clock on the wall before you, reading the time. It was a little past midnight, and you had hardly gotten any rest. You had a big day tomorrow, and rest was crucial to get through your day. God knows the things you would do if you did not properly sleep.

Turning to your twin brother, you weakly nodded, "Okay."

He did not hesitate to tuck you under his arm as if in an attempt to protect you from any harm to come your way, to shield you from the nightmares. However, despite his presence, it was like a part of the dream appeared that you remembered but didn't at the same time.

"Do you think I'll be a good mother?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Please just answer me...for my sanity."

Your brother sighed, resting his cheek on your head as he rubbed your shoulder to comfort you.

"Y/n, I have no doubt you will make a great mother. Come on, let's go back to sleep. I'll stay here, and everything will be better in the morning."

"Promise me it will be better in the morning."

"What?"

"You don't have to hold up to it. I just...I just want to hear you say it."

"I promise it will be better in the morning."

"Okay..."

New series?? Sequel???Maybe, but first, a little break ☆~ (˃̵ڡ‘˶ )

Taglist (Thank you all so much for being a part of this series):

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident

@fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one @rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade @ae-mius @xiangping-28 @loaves4me @aloraaaxcrystalzx @chariotwaves 

[primrosebow]

Do you draw or write for the girls? Because I would love seeing any type of Lute, Charlie or Vaggie art in your style

Also I would eat your art 20/10

Short answer: yahhh xoxo💞

Long answer:

_-->Various hazbin hotel women x reader // art

//

!Content warnings!:the usual nsfw, this has the gals listed in the ask🫡 a few headcannons added for flavor, gn reader cause I never specified literally anything, more words than usual.

We are SO BACK 💪💪💪 request things ‼️ My activities would get me perma banned from the vatican, I'm afraid.

Charlie //

I, unlike most other people here, believe that charlie most often tries to take the role of a dom! She's used to trying to fix everyone else's problems, but, she'll crumble if she ever gets treated like the perfect princess that she is. Call her beautiful, praise her, give her that affection she desperately needs. She's been helping her citizens for so long, she deserves to get taken care of!

Honestly, when you slowly push that vibrator inside her after what felt like an agonizing ammount of time for prepping, she was ready to cry on the spot. She can barely believe you even talked her into being in the receiving end of this -she's the one supposed to be pleasing you!- Getting this much attention and love made her brain go all fuzzy and tears well up in her eyes as her limbs felt weak; she was trembling far too much from the overwhelming pleasure she felt right then to truly care about what this whole situation did to her ego.

She doesn't realize her horns have made an appearence as she pleads with you: come on! You were giving her so much attention just a minute ago! Please! Being as close to you as possible is her only wish right now. Her pitiful tone and cries for you directly contradict how her tail is shaking at it's tip, much like that of an excited cat -she's enjoying this far more than she expected-.

If you do decide to give in and finally rub on her already overstimulated clit just as you had been doing before, she'll cling onto you for dear life- practically sobbing as you give her precisely what she needs. Maybe she can get used to being treated nicely by you. (She learns that she cannot get enough of the overwhelming passionate act of letting you be in control, it's far too good for her to only experience it once.

She'll soon get a little cocky though... she isn't the daughter of the king of pride just because of her name, if you catch what I'm throwing)

// //

Vaggie //

Vaggie has placed quite a notorious quantity of expectations on herself. She's always been this way, and, continues to be despite your affirmations of her worth. Your constant and relentless words of praise to her: how beautiful she is, how strong, how perfect, how brave, how hot- it all got to her head very quickly. Your words contradicted her thoughts on herself but the way you kiss along her neck makes any thought melt away from her brain and be replaced with pure emotion.

// //

"Mh.. please, darling- I-" she tried to form a sentence, eventually getting cut off by her own moans. Her nightgown was pushed up as she laid with her back against your bed, squirming slightly as she feels your fingers rub against her insides. She clenches around you as you drag your thumb over her swolen clit, which was begging for your attention since the very start of this. Her hips stutter as she can't pick between indulging the stimulation and running away from the pleasure.

Her eyes struggle to keep themselves open, but you had told her to look at you during this. She couldn't let you down. Not when you were saying she was "doing so good f'me". Those are some of the few words that can pierce through the thick veil of the ecstasy-like feeling of your attention and carve themselves into her very soul. She was good. Good for you. She couldn't ask for anything better, and, won't- can't be letting you down.

You.. leave her easy tasks such as looking at you and being a little quieter just so she feels like she's still, in some way, being useful to you. Slow and steady wins the race, and, soon enough you hope to remove the constant anxiety of servicing you from the act of love you want to give her.

Lute //

Lute is quite interesting because she has this weird duality between wanting approval and not being able to take said approval. Sometimes, she'll activelly attempt to rile you up enough that you'll punish her (something you have already told her is not necessary, since you can be harsher on her if she simply asks) but please don't blame her! She's just used to being treated roughly, it's "safer" for her to stay in her comfort zone of thorns and cruel words at first.

But only at first. Like I said, she really does want to feel loved. One of the first times you attempted to give her the affection she craves, after having learned that she can't deal with the purely lovey, sappy affection yet, you had to get resourceful with bringing her the love she needs.

"Awh sweetheart, you can't handle this?" You dig your fingers even deeper into her, a squelching noise arises from the action because of just how wet she already is. She groans at your words, and, if you didn't know any better, she'd have sounded like any other cheap sinner from lust with how aroused she was at your teasing. But you do know better. Your comment- it was slightly mocking, it was maddening; it was a challenge. For her to keep her composure for as long as she can. Lute grabs onto you even harder so she can regain some sense of stability, finally locking eyes with you. She moves her hips slightly against your fingers. Despite it being her own action, she groans. She says in a shaky tone

"Do your worst."

Ah, you can't deny such a request, now, can you?

// //

BONUSSSSSSSSS‼️

Velvette //

"Agh- fuck you! H-ah-" she tried to act mad, don't get her wrong. She really did. But that's astoundingly hard to do when your lover has their hand in your panties and is currently relentlessly and harshly rubbing against your clit like it was the last thing they'll ever touch.

You really could not have picked a worse time to do this; right before one of her new collection showcases? Did you want her to die? You forcefully push her thighs apart when she pressed them toguether, not letting her even attempt to get back a semblance of composure. As if that wasn't enough, you had locked her bracelets toguether behind her back, and, even if she wouldn't admit it to a single soul, it really turned her on.

She tried to think as hard as she could, try to offend you, try to play her own pleasure down, but she really couldn't. Empty remarks about your incompetence or appearence or literally anything she could get her mind around slowly melted away into moans and whines, the much too familiar shame from getting overwhelmed so easily by you also pushed aside by a desperate search for her own release.

When she finally did cum, she doesn't hold back on how loud her moan of your name was, her thighs trembled as she leaned on your body for support. She intentionally turns her head away from the mirror so she won't be faced by her own overstimulated self, and much less your self-satisfied grin as you watch her panting against you.

Oh gods... what was she doing again? Hmm.. OH YOU BASTARD YOU RUINED HER PANTIES! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW EXPENSIVE THAT FABRIC WAS? FUCK YOU.

Let's just hope that the fashion gossip blogs don't catch onto how uncharacteristically out of breath she was during that showcase!

I love piracy so much RAHHHHHH‼️‼️ if buying ain't ownin, piracy ain't stealin, but I wish it were. IMAGINE‼️ you download idk ratatouille and they just don't have it anymore. "Guys they took ratatouille again..." I wish. I wish watching media through torrent sites was like taking various items from ikea.

I WOULD download a car.

@bigfatbimbo cause of the little bonus of velvette

[starrypen]

⋇⊶⊰ (FINALLY) GIVING JUNGWON HEAD ⊱⊷⋇

pairing: dom!jungwon x gn!reader

genre: smut

summary: jungwon was a great project partner. not only did you learn lots about the module, but also how to give head!

warnings: implied virgin reader, pet names, face fucking, giving head, dom jungwon, implied sub reader, swearing. 1.4k words.

a/n: self indulgent. i want jungwon so bad.

for what could be one last time, you took in the scenery of your classmate’s room. the walls were painted ivory, the desk was a metallic navy, his bedsheets a similar shade of blue. although you hated this module, it turned out to be your favourite, but maybe that’s just because you were finally able to get some one-on-one time with jungwon. you’d been partnered up together for this project, and you’d enjoyed every second of it. you’d actually become quite close, flirty even. he’d often ask for a message, tell you how good your hands felt on him, or ask if you wanted one in return. he’d sometimes seem bummed when you said you going on dates, or hanging around with guys, but you didn’t want to delude yourself, maybe he just wanted to get the project done sooner.

tonight, you’d finally finished the poster for the presentation. it felt like an end, and you didn’t really like that. just as you were contemplating asking him out on a date, jungwon popped a rather intrusive question.

“is giving head fun?” jungwon asked, folding the peel of his banana in on itself while finishing the last bite. he aimed for the trash can in his room and succeeded, as per usual.

this was his usual style of conversation, he definitely meant it in a playful way, but you felt obligated to answer it truthfully. “uh i mean,” you shifted awkwardly and gulped as you watched his throw, “i cannot confirm or deny.”

“i take that as a no then,” he picked up the scissors and stretched up to his desk with them, placing them down firmly as his eyes scanned the poster.

your eyes do the same, anything to avoid looking at him, “well i wouldn’t know, that’s why i can’t say.”

he turns to you, puzzled, “huh?” his brows furrowed more as he notices you burning up, “i thought you’d slept with loads of guys?”

“yeah, no, i haven’t, i just said that to be you know,” you cringed at your previous interactions with the boy whose room you were currently in, “cool…” you gulped again, biting the bullet as words escaped before you could stop them, “but i kinda want to know, i just haven’t found someone who would be worthy of such an honour yet.” you owned it, a smirk on your face, which jungwon could clearly tell was feigned confidence.

his hand came to rest on yours, ceasing it’s trembling which gave you away. “do you really wanna try?”

you nodded.

“what about with me?” he waited until you nodded again. “would that be okay?”

“are you sure?”

to your surprise, jungwon laughed, “y/n, i’ve been waiting for this day since the first day of college, i’m very much okay with this.”

you joined in, awkwardly, “me too, to be honest.” his hand disappeared from yours as you finally got more comfortable in your laughter, instead tussling with his jeans’ zipper, standing up as he did so. you joined him, standing clumsily, watching him.

“sit down, y/n,” his eyes darted to the bed as he took one leg from his jeans, the other following shortly.

you sat, his boxers in your eyeline. you couldn’t help but look, his bulge right in front of you. you held your breath as your teeth tore your lips and the inside of your cheeks apart.

“hey, y/n, don’t be nervous, okay? we can stop at any time, you got that?” you felt his hand on your head, stroking it gently, calming you slowly but surely. “look at me, baby,” he spoke softly, your eyes drifted up to his.

after a short while of eye contact, your eyes naturally fell once again to his boxers, “do you wanna touch it?” he asked.

you nodded, his hand still on your head but not guiding your response at all. your hand timidly reached out, cupping the general area a little gauchely.

“how about you rub your hand over it? up and down,” you tried to imitate his suggestion with your hand, and with a little help from his own, you managed to get a good feel of his hardening cock. “good, doesn’t it feel good to know that you did this?”

you giggled shyly, but almost a little smugly, under your breath, “it does.”

“then how about i let you see, how does that sound, hm?” by this point, you were no longer palming his cock, instead, your hand running over his own as he played with his own dick inside his boxers.

“good,” you agreed, not really sure of what to say.

he revealed his dick, pulling his boxers to just below it and then finally pulling them completely off as he watched you admire it.

you licked your lips as if you’d already been conditioned to do so. “it’s so,” your hand went to it once again, employing the same motion, again a little awkwardly, before wrapping your hand around it more comfortably, “thick.”

“is it?” he asks in pleasant surprise, “well it’s all yours, baby.”

you pump it a couple more times, getting used to the feeling, before asking, “can i try sucking it?”

“you’re so eager,” he chuckles, “of course you can,” the hand on the back of your head starts to guide you towards his semi hardened cock as you get closer to his body. you’re not sure if the heat is coming from him or your face alone at this point, but you’re almost basking in it as if its warm caribbean sun.

“open your mouth, i’ll just put the tip in.” you did as he said and he kept to his promise, the head of his cock resting on your tongue. “okay, now close your mouth,” your lips wrapped around it. you looked up to him for reassurance, he breathed heavily in response. you think that meant you were doing a good job. “you can move a bit, if you want,” he spoke through gritted teeth, but it only turned you on more. you moved your head lightly, taking as much as you thought you could before coming back up for air. “spit on it, y/n, get it all wet, you’ll be able to take more.”

“fuck, jungwon, it’s so big,” you repositioned it back in your mouth, drooling on it, leaving your hand on his shaft for support. encouraged by a groan from the boy, you carried on sucking. his free hand took your own from his cock and held it by his side, interlocking your fingers together.

“this feels so good, y/n,” getting carried away, he thrusts gently. you’re taken aback, he notices your pace slows almost to a stop. “oh, i’m so sorry, was that too much? i didn’t even think, ugh,”

you begin sucking again, you can’t even respond to his apology, you just want his cum. unable to hold back, he thrusted again, only this time, you leaned into it. his grip on your hair got tighter and his thrusts got harder, your lips became less pursed and your throat started to make gagging sounds. jungwon was fucking your face. just like you’d wanted.

you placed your free hand on his thigh, slowing him down as your throat felt more and more used. your lips tightened around him again and your head bobbed deeply, adding a little bit of a swirling motion. under your touch, you felt his leg begin to shake.

“fuck, y/n, im cumming,” he announced, letting go of your hand in favour of pulling his dick from your mouth and covering your upper lip and nose in cum. he seemed a little dissatisfied. his dick dragged the cum down and across your lips, parting them slightly as your tongue grazed his tip again. “you’re like, incredible at giving head, y/n,” he admitted, panting as he watched over you, a slight hunch to his posture.

“i never doubted it,” you chuckled, taking a tissue from his bedside table and wiping your face. “but i should probably clean this off before your flatmates realise we haven’t been studying all this time.”

he extended a hand to help you off his bed, laughing with you, “don’t worry, they’ve been wanting this to happen almost as much as i have.”

[lchufflepuffcorn]

Dragon hybrids when their mate has to leave king’s landing. Maybe they need to like go home for a family thing or a vacation.

Hi anon!

Since you've requested a bittersweet situation, you'll be named the 😣 anon! I hope you'll like this one, I had fun writing it, it's not in the same format as others, but it was easier to put all my ideas for this situation in it that way.

Masterlist

Dragon!Hybrid masterlist

Warning: None, dumbass characters.

Aemond:

Aemond is not one to be clingy, physically clingy, that is. 

But you’ve never truly been appart ever since you came to King’s Landing. 

He’ll give you a thousand orders and recommendations for when you leave, arrive and come back. Fuss over every piece of clothing you wear, bring and pack. And he WILL go as far as to unpack you to repack himself. 

Dragons are nervous creatures, especially if their whole hoard up and leaves. Which, to Aemond, you are. And even if he tries to rationalise with himself that it’s just for a short two months and for family business, he cannot shake the feeling that something is being taken from him. 

He will be spending those two months sulking and becoming increasingly irritable. 

Mateless depression™ is real. 

He will send you a letter two days after you leave, and it’ll be waiting for you when you arrive at your family estate. But he won’t send any other until you’ve responded to his first one. 

He’s desperate, but not THAT desperate. 

You’ll never know of this, but he spends his nights tussing and turning, buried in your shared nest, trying to memorize your scent. 

Imagines the worst scenarios and has nightmares about you never coming back, deserting him, for some reasons. 

It’s not often that you leave Aemond’s side. To be pretty honest, you came to King’s Landing, at a relatively young age, you never left after that. Why would you? Now that you’re working as a guard under/wed to him, there is no need for you to take a leave, your whole life is with him. But if you really need to leave, Aemond is full of recommandations. 

Only to hide his nervousness, but he’ll rather be caught dead than tell you this. 

“I should like to receive at the very least two letters from you. One once you arrive, and another to announce your departure.” He tells you, fussing about with your cape. He wasn’t usually one to get close to you in front of people. 

“I’ll send you four.” You agreed quietly, letting him fuss about, he was now smoothing the creases of your sleeves. 

He hums, happy of your answer, a small smile curving his lips for a split second before his amethyst gaze ran over your form once more, a frown now embedded between his two brows. He sighs and kisses your forehead, bringing one hand behind your head to pull you closer by a step. 

“I’ll miss you.” You whisper softly, looking up at him once he steps back. 

Aemond doesn’t answer to that, preferring to nod wordlessly, and you don’t know if it’s because he’ll break by saying anything or if it’s to restrain himself to keep you with him. He looks about ready to do both, but you smile anyway, before turning toward your horse. 

Baela : 

She’s used to it. 

Baela doesn’t like it, mind you. You’re always separating your time between her and your family, so it’s basically a second nature for her to forgo the nervousness of a matebound dragon being away from their mate now. 

She sends letters every week or so, if the weather is good. 

The letters are basically all that keeps her going, honestly. Otherwise, she would wind up batshit crazy and willing to leave everything to kidnap save you from your own family, no matter your age. 

Once your mating bond and courting are officialized, and that you’re staying with her for good, she’ll have a harder time separating from you. 

She’ll do it, but she'll spend her last hours with you kissing, hugging, crying and more. 

Baela is ruthless when she misses you. Enemies, friends, accointance, nobody is spared from her moodiness. 

She will ask you to be very thorough in your letters, her paranoia only creeping up if she finds that you’re missing the retelling of a few hours in a day, or even worse a few days of your week. 

If this is the case, she will threaten to come fetch you. 

“My love, it’s only for a week.” You chastised her softly, trying your mighty best to remove yourself from her grip. Talons were inching deeper into your clothes with your every move. 

An urgent missive from an uncle of yours had been sent, recalling the tragic demise of your favourite cousin, and pleading to have you attend the funeral ceremony, pleading you had to agree and meet your family -traitors as they were- to comply with your cousin’s dying wishes. 

“You’re going into the wolf's den. How am I supposed to cope with your leaving, as you dive in such a dangerous compagny?” She whined, covering her petulant tantrum with a huff at the end of her sentence. 

You rolled your eyes at her paranoid ranting, pulling her face closer to yours softly to kiss her lips. “I’m going to my uncle’s estate. An uncle who’s loyal to Rhaenyra. My family wouldn’t do anything to me on those grounds.” You reassured her, or at the very least tried to resonate with her by logic. 

“I want to go with you.” She pushes, letting her head fall into the crook of your neck, her taloned hands wrapping themselves thighter around your middle. 

“But you cannot. Your place is here, with your family, and my duty is to walk the cortege of my cousin to her last resting place.” Your tone was final. You’d already had this conversation multiple times already. 

Baela huffed, but said nothing more, preferring to place kisses all over your neck.

Jacaerys : 

Jacaerys is also more used to you leaving than, let’s say, Aemond.

But he hasn’t had as much practice with it as Baela. 

He’ll act very solemn and stoic about it, but he’s a mess inside. 

Like: kicking, crying, throwing up, inside his mind, Vermax is actually not helping at all. But he’ll be standing next to you on the dock as you depart with dry eyes and an easy wave of his hand, though his face holds no smile.

He knows that you leaving is to help his mother’s cause, and it’s actually not of your own volition, so why should you have a harder time than you already have departing from his side just because his instincts are going awire? 

Vermax is more prompt to take over when he’s without you, because Vermax feels like Jace needs to be protected, as they both are in a fragile, more volatile state of mind. 

Will read all of your letters, but only send a few back, because he doesn’t know what to tell you in writing.

He’s very philosophical, but in a depressing way when you're not there. 

Weirdly, recenst the person who sent you away from him, and will ignore them and give them the cold shoulder for it, if they are living in the same castle. 

“Well, I’m the best option your mother has to rally those families to her cause. I am myself from those families. A familiar face might make the tides change in her favour.” You were saying in a so calm manner that Vermax was showing Jace images of you leaving him and never coming back, panic making the dragon spirit restless in his mind. 

“I do feel like you are our best option, precious, don’t misunderstand me. I simply worry about your well being.” Jace had always been very smooth with his words, diplomatic even. After all, his mother had taught him well, but never had thought he would have to use his diplomatic skills with you. 

He watched you give another item of clothing to a servant to pack, and his heart felt like it broked into more tiny pieces than it did when his mother told him you had to leave for some time. The primal need to keep you flushed against him, to have you stay by his side nearly overwhelming him, and he heard Vermax growl into his mind when he pushed the images of your naked body under his for the third time in that hour. 

“Then why does it seem as if you don’t trust me for this task?” You huffed, a shining in your eyes that Jaces knows all too well, for he hates it. And all the nervous emotions that had accaparated Jace’s mind about you leaving exited his brain like a flock of birds the way of a horse at your words. Instead, those emotions were replaced by the fear of having you angry at him, or upset. 

“No, my Jewel. Not at all.” He’s quick to react, walking across the room to engulf you into a hug, stopping you from emptying your closet anymore. “I do trust you. I simply hate having to be apart from you.” His voice cracks as he feels your tears wet his shirt. The situation was hard on everyone, and now he realised how hard you were taking the news too. 

He sends a glance to the servant, who was awkwardly standing a few paces away from you and she’s quick to exit the room, leaving the two of you alone. He keeps you close, hushing you softly as you let your frustration out with tears, as it doesn’t happen often, and because the current situation is out of your hands, completely and utterly. 

Laenor: 

He’s moody, he doesn’t like it, and everyone knows it. 

It’s his and everyone else’s problem. 

Laenor was not ready to find a mate, and he’s also never ready to see his mate leave. 

You’ve been nearly impossible to separate since his sixth name day, and having you being away from him since he’s revealed to you that you were his mate is excruciating. It’s always been. 

It drives his parents insane, his sister is annoyed with him and once he’s married to Rhaenyra, as much as she wants to be supportive, she too can be seen avoiding Laenor when you're away for more than a month. 

He’s still a prince, and will do his best not to let his mood paralyze him as it did when he revealed to you the place you’d taken in his life. 

It’s still annoying. The Mateless depression™ is hitting him hard too. 

“And you promise to write?” 

“Yes, my love. Every week.” You chuckled, your hands mimicking his on your face, looking into his eyes as if you were going into battle, and not to see your mother. 

“How long will you be gone, remind me?”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, before leaning in to kiss his nose. “A mealsy two months, darling. But don’t worry, I shall bring back sweets for you.” 

Laenor nodded, eyes closed as if to have the feeling of your lips on his skin engraved in his memory. You chuckled at that once more. He looked like a cat. A rather scaly cat, but a cat nonetheless. 

“I’ll have a banquet prepared for your return.” He muttered, leaning to close the distance between the two of you and capture your lips with his in a burning kiss. 

“I’m not even gone and you’re already planning my return.” You grumbled against his lips, and Laenor took a step back to look at your face with an insulted frown. 

“Obviously. I have to keep busy, otherwise Rhaenyra will send me to you in a box.” 

Rhaena : 

Rhaena is not used to this feeling. 

She was fine before, why is you leaving now making her so… fretting? 

She’s fighting with herself not to unpact everything you put in your suitcases as you go. 

She follows you around like a lost puppy, frustrated with herself, you, and everybody who walkes to close to the both of you. 

Rhaena bonded with her dragon spirit late in her life, this causes a great change in her comprehension of the world, including how attached she is to you. 

She’s hormonal, that is the only logical explanation as to why she started crying when you told her you had to meet with whomever you had to meet. 

Overall, she’s a mess, and doesn’t know how to deal with it. 

She keeps her wits about her, with other people. 

IF they don’t speak of you, your name, or anything relating to your person. 

The bed is empty, you left during the night, without bothering to wake her. Which, you probably thought was for the best, as she had not stopped crying when the news came about that you had to meet with some merchants, a week or so ago. 

Rhaena sniffled pathetically, pressing your pillow closer to her face, breathing in your scent to try and calm the beast billowing within your mind. But everything she did only seemed to make her dragon spirit (and so herself) more agitated and unnerved. Fat, salted tears rolled down her cheeks and Rhaena threw the pillow out of the cocoon the nest bed was creating in the room, a cry escaping her lips as she angrily passa her hands on her face to try and make the tears dry. 

‘I’ll be back as soon as possible.’ You’d promised her. ‘In one week, two at best, I’ll be walking back down this street to you.’ 

Even though she knew, logically, you would hurry as much as you could to get back into her arms, the feeling of emptiness that was now lodged into her chest, making it seem as if you’d died was overwhelming her logic. Sobs wracking her small, frail body, she hunched herself over her own knees, as if to keep the hurt from coming in, or going out. 

A knock on the door startled her, and with a hiccup, she dryed her tears the best she could before answering, voice hoarse from the crying. 

“What is it?” 

“Prince Viserys wanted to see you, my lady.” 

Taglist: @lady-dragon-rider

Current anons : 👑😵‍💫🥰🧑‍🍼😣

[sightseertrespasser]

Hey!

I think your Odds Of Survival is super super cool and awesome (I’m going batshit insane over it)

I’m really interested in the cybertronian political setup/worldbuilding you’ve been sprinkling in, it being revealed that Prowl and a lot of canon autobots are cons in this universe, mentions of the functionists, hints for whenabouts the quintessons arrived on cybertronian, etc.

I think the world you’ve built is so so cool. Ik you’re probably dripfeeding us crumbs intentionally and may not want to spoil things. But if there is anything you can or want to say, take this as an invitation to lore dump about whatever you want :3

If not then hope you’re having a good day and thanks for sharing your awesome creation :D

Hi!

Thank you so much for the compliment and the ask!

I do enjoy sprinkling in my world building in the stories themselves but I actually quite enjoy getting direct questions like these so I can info dump all the exposition I want. The drip feed is for satisfying narrative pacing, the ask box is for turning on the hose.

The basic premise I built off of was answering this question: If there’s no Optimus Prime, then what would happen to Cybertron?

The short version of what usually happens in most continuities is more or less as follows:

- The Functionalists and/or Sentinel Prime run Cybertron through a horribly oppressive government.

- A bunch of bots get sick of it and ignite a civil war.

- The rebellion “wins” but usually splits between the Decepticons and the Autobots, due to a division of fundamental beliefs. Decepticons are “might makes right” and Autobots are “how about not fascism?”

So what does it mean if Optimus isn’t there? What’s so special about the guy?

I have complicated thoughts on how Optimus, Megatron and their respective ideals interact and I could probably write a small essay about how they both offer Change to their followers in another tangent for another time.

The short answer is Optimus gives people the uncompromising option to Do Good. And backs that stance the fuck up every single time by his own actions. Taking the high road every time is freaking hard, and it takes an extremely stubborn, and most importantly angry kind of hope to not let it go.

Not many folks can do that. Not because they don’t want it, but because they don’t believe it’s possible.

And that’s were a lot of would be auto bots are at.

Everyone hates the Functionalists but they’re also incredibly rich in resources, controlling not just Cybertron but multiple planet spanning colonies. A lot of mechs that would have joined the rebellion in the og timelines haven’t because Megatron kinda puts out Evil Warlord vibes and not everyone is willing to work with that. People like Prowl and Elita still join because they’re the kind to go “Well we have to do something to make Cybertron better and taking the Trolly Off the Tracks isn’t an option.”

So the rebellion doesn’t quite reach the size needed to take out the Council and Sentinel in one fast all out charge. If it wasn’t for the Quintession invasion, the Decepticons would have eventually met a slow demise by attrition.

The Decepticons are low key operating like a pirate army with a very tentative ceasefire truce with the Functionalist Army. Unlike Optimus, Sentinel is a dick that can’t help but start shit with Megatron so there is almost zero collaboration between the two. Right now, the Decepticons are a downright devastating military force but in desperate need of a consistent supply of resources that raiding alone cannot stabilize.

The Lost Light is currently the only crew of the Decepticons that are legitimately trying to establish trade routes with other aliens (which is not going well because 90% of intelligent alien life views Cybertronians as colonist war machines (which is historically correct)) and they don’t exactly have the charming Beacon of Hope and Respect for Tiny Aliens that Optimus usually brings to the table.

Another thing in universe, the Lost Light is essentially considered the Island of Misfit Mechs. The ship is ancient and pretty much everyone on board got there for either “not being good enough” or from getting demoted, as is the case with Prowl.

Elita One was made the Captain because she’s competent enough to make Megatron nervous about her gathering too much influence but still too useful to kill off either. So she gets the rejects from other ships and up to a certain limit gets to do as she pleases.

That’s all I’ll write for now. Thanks again for taking an interest in my writing!

[is-that-plural]

severance. like the show. the concept. The Thing.

!! Rating: Holy Shit, there's so much to say about this one. Short answer; yes AND no.

SO. we've been binging this show since last week, and wow its a good show i recommend giving it watch !!

i will Try to keep this spoilers-free but, its still better to watch the first few episodes, then come back to read this post

the main concept of "severance" as a concept is purposefully splitting the brain, (via brain surgery) to make two separate consciousness, one for work, one for home.

this is where it already gets tricky; its purposeful, it's basically consensual on the "host's" part, but the headmates (or "innies" as the show calls them) did not want this, but now that they have a chance at life, albeit a boring 9-5 box office job, they're content. (this is a point towards 'not plural')

some of them find happiness some of them find love, some of them find purpose, because that's what people need, proving that the "innies" are fundamentally people. (point towards 'plural')

i think a lot of the show focuses on the terror of waking up without memories, the utter horror aspect of it, and usually i'm quick to jump to "well this is the writers using d.i.d as a horror trope" because most of the time it is. (point towards 'not plural')

with severance; the horror aspects of the show are Real Terrifying Plural Experiences. as a system watching this show was lowkey eye-opening because i can show it to singlets and tell them "this is what its like." then they'll have a better understanding of my system and by extension other systems as well even if on just a surface level (point towards 'plural')

a lot of the struggles and conflicts in the show are centered around the "innies"(headmates) disagreeing with the "outies"(hosts) goals and ideas, etc etc there's LOTS of conflict between the two and absolutely NO communication between the two. (point towards 'plural')

the company who they all work for, has MANY strict restrictions on the "innies" ability to do almost anything, they are there to work and that is it. "innies" cannot communicate with "outies" and "outies" don't want to communicate with their "innies"(Schrodinger's point. could be either.)

SO. long answer; there are many many MANY Experiences shown, that are Real to Systems, yes the show frames it as a "wouldn't this be fucked up?" scenario, but it Is real and it IS (albeit. maybe slightly less? fucked up?) in real life and in real systems

(i say slightly less fucked up bc i believe it is more flawed and miserable for a company to do that to its employees, given the (outies) employees agreed to it, its almost endogenic, in that the systems didnt form in childhood trauma ,, and "became" systems intentionally, which isnt how plurality actually works, point for 'not plural,')