#because ive been doing feet studies

[sylvainahyperfixation]

you see her looking at you from across the bar like this. what do you do

+ closeup on her face because i liked the way it turned out

[onmyyan]

(ive been spottily active lately and missed soooo much amazing stuff I'm trying to catch up still but the one thing someone mentioned to you is now running circles like an energetic puppy in my brain) yandere batfam angst with (yandere?) superfam fluff. The savior complex. The rivalry. I love your writing so much. I love how so many cool people message you and share ideas. You're awesome.

A/N: First of all you're so sweet ❣️ thank you!! I so appreciate this request and how it made my brain turn!!

In this situation let's say you've already done the whole 'neglected so you leave and trigger their yandere instincts' thing, so you've been kidnapped, bound to the manor for months at this point, but Bruce decides you've been behaving well enough to deserve a treat. He knows how cooped up you feel, he's not as delusional as the rest of his family who believe you love it there, so he takes you with him to the hall of justice, he isn't worried about you escaping after all the hall of justice is in outer space, and you're surrounded by experienced heros, you're not going anywhere.

That's his first mistake.

Clark takes to you immediately. You've got the Wayne charm but so clearly your own person, you stand away from Bruce, asking Clark earnest questions, listening oh so intently, he knows you're an adult, but your so much smaller than him, (the man is 6'3 he's bigger than most people.) he noticed the way your heart rate picked up when Bruce so much as touched you, you were scared of him, he could tell, and this is what ignites that dangerous flame inside him.

He starts by inviting the whole Wayne family over for dinner, can't draw suspicion by inviting only you, (despite that being exactly what he wanted to do) Lois makes a feast, that night you meet Clark's entire family, his son's Conner and Jon, Kara his cousin, and of course Lois his wife, they all focus on you despite trying to play it cool, Kara's around your age and asks if you'd like to go shopping with her in metropolis some day, you smile starting to nod before Bruce answers for you, "Her studies are taking up most of her time nowadays, some other time." He grins taking a bite of his steak.

Clark sets his silverware down, grinning that friendly smile of his, "Well surely she can take a little break, one day away from her studies won't kill her, besides she'll be safe as can be with Kara by her side." Bruce glares at him, he can't outright deny the claims because his own possessive need to have you by his side at all times, and because they're true, so he relents, and that's how you find yourself spending time with her, and in turn the superfam.

It doesn't take long for them to fall in love with the idea of you being there, with them, at their dinner table.

The second they're all in agreement,(about a week after getting to know you) they quickly decide you're better off with them, and when Superman breaks into the Manor one day and sweeps you off your feet, the batfamily can't do anything but watch in horror.

[ohthemis]

Hi! May i request a fanfic?? Where tot male leads are sick and mc is taking care of them, despite them saying they are fine and later on they starts acting clingy? Thank you so much! Stay safe :)

tot boys when they're sick

characters: all

a/n: ive been gone for centuries lol, sorry i got into a big school and underestimated the workload. finished this because i ditched my case study after a breakdown.

ARTEM WING

he just wants to work, so why won't you just let him work? "i'm fine, mc. i promise, so please, just give me some time to work in peace." he knows he's being snappy, and it isn't fair to you, who just wants to help him, but it's not like he's dying.

you come behind him and tenderly place your hands on his shoulders. "you're sick, artem. please rest?" he sighs, he's trying to understand you, after all he'd do the same for you, but he can't help the nagging feeling of annoyance pulling on his chest.

"mc, i really need you to get out of my office right now. okay?" he doesn't intend for his tone to be so sharp, so mean, but that's exactly how it comes out. you sigh and do as he says, not before giving him a soft kiss on his scalp.

artem then proceeds to go back to work, or at the very least, he tries to. he feels sick and he feels guilty. he reluctantly gets up and opens his office door, greeted by the sight of warm soup and some tea prepped up by his doorstep.

his legs move faster than his brain, and before he knows it, he's already wrapping his arms around you on the bed. he relishes the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. 'it's good to be sick once in a while', he thinks.

MARIUS VON HAGEN

he playfully nudges you away, "i'm fiiiine." his voice is nasally and hoarse, and his skin is paling. you both know he's not fine. "marius, i'm serious right now. let's get you to bed." he refuses again, his hands still typing away on the laptop, despite your tugging on his sleeve.

you even go as far as to try and entice him to bed. "come on, i'll even join you." he grins at that. "tempting offer, but this needs to get done asap, mc." you sigh at his stubbornness. "marius, you look like you're at death's doorstep." but he doesn't budge.

eventually, you're left no choice but to make him some soup and resign yourself to the sofa behind him. you're tapping away on your phone when you feel it. the sofa dips beside you, and he drops his head into your lap.

"mc, my head hurts so bad. i think i'm dying." you roll your eyes but your fingers almost reflexively start to massage his forehead. "that's why i told you to get off your computer and come rest." he sighs into your stomach as your ministrations on his skin relieve him of some pain.

"mm, you're always right, mc. offer still up for the bed." you help him up on his feet. "yeah. but don't get any ideas. you're sick." he lays his head on your shoulder, "'m not that sick." he proceeds to collapse on the bed within seconds of laying down.

LUKE PEARCE

he's coughing his heart out and you're to your knees in worry for him. he, as always, assures you that it's nothing. in the morning, he tells you he was just choking on breakfast. now, he's telling you that he just swallowed wrong.

"luke, you're not fine. please just rest." you plead with him to the best of your abilities, but he refuses to budge. luke smiles at you reassuringly. "for what? just something in my throat is all." you sigh, knowing there isn't much you can do to argue with him.

he goes back to tinkering an old watch a client left for him to fix. you hear a sharp intake of breath and luke slowly turns around. you look up, and you nearly collapse yourself once you see the blood dripping from his nose, down to his shirt.

you're quickly standing next to him, panicking. luke calmly instructs you what to do, and you follow his words. your hands tremble as you tend to him, and he lets you lead him to the bedroom.

that night, he can barely sleep. he's tossing and turning, going between shivering cold and sweating hot. you spend the night kissing his tears away, brushing the damp strands of hair away from his forehead, and adjusting the ac as needed. he finally falls asleep during the early peaks of the morning, his hand tightly wrapped around yours.

VYN RICHTER

vyn is a stubborn man. you should be used to it by now. there's no point in arguing with him, especially when he's dead set on something. but you wish that he'd just listen to you this once. "vyn, you aren't fine. you're sniffling and clearing your throat ever five seconds." he repeats the same thing he told you five minutes ago.

"it's just a cold, don't worry too much about it." but what kind of cold has him staggering as he walks or refusing lunch because he just has no appetite? you come over and wrap your arms around him, a frown on your face. he kisses your jaw and goes back to his papers.

you try to tug on his shoulder gently. "please? just listen to me this once. please?" he signs something, before humming. he sighs and stands up from his seat. "alright. lead the way." you take his hand and lead him to the bedroom. you lay him down, and he thinks it's sweet how much you care for him.

he thinks it's sweet until he's on the brink of insanity because he feels absolutely sick and you're busy getting some medicine for him. "mc, just let me die, i need you here," he whines from the bedroom. you've heard the same thing in about 30 variations in 5 minutes.

once you get back with his pills, he practically inhales the drugs and latches onto you. he grabs you by the arm and pulls you in. "please stay," he asks, in a voice softer than you've ever heard from him. "you won't let me go anyway," you reply. he hums smugly.

[lailawinchesterr]

remedy (iv) — sam winchester

> prev , series masterlist

summary: maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to go back to sam’s place. or maybe it’s a good thing you did — tags: underage!reader, 22 year old!sam, med student!fem!reader, cursing, mentioned praying, canon divergence.

There’s a man, a very beautiful one, sure, standing in Sam’s apartment. His eyes are hungry as they glide over you. His… eyes. That seem way too similar to those the man next to you owns yet so different. His are a bright green for one, you’re scared to stare too long in them incase they grow trees. Cliche? Doesn’t matter, it’s the truth, they’re so green.

You can’t hear what’s going on, but him and Sam seem to have a full on conversation with no words. Maybe the other guy won because he takes the step forward as Sam sighs and shuts the apartment door behind you guys. You keep your hand close to your purse and you can feel it vibrate vigorously, you’re sure it’s Jess wanting information on what the fuck you’re doing at Sam’s house— which great question, what are you doing here?

Cause you were thinking talk, eat, make out, not particularly in that order. Now it seems ‘talk to random guy while you try not to have a panic attack’ has been added to the list. Well, too bad, the list is exclusive. “Now who are you?”

Sam says your name through gritted teeth, “this is my brother Dean.” You swallow your fear and nod once. Introducing yourself despite Sam having done it a second before. “What are you doing here, man?” Sam walks away from the door to throw his car keys onto the counter, a few feet away from you, closer to Dean.

“Doesn’t matter now, seems like you’re busy,” and he’s actually smirking. At you. Why is it kind of attractive— no, focus! Focus on your surroundings, and count to ten so you don’t explode. “Of course, I wouldn’t dream of taking him away from you, sweetheart.” Dean says so sweetly that you actually believe it’s for your own benefit, he’s closer now, both hands hovering over your arms but not exactly touching which you’re grateful for. 

You smile tightly and look up at Sam in a silent call for help. “Why are you here, Dean?” He repeats sternly and crosses his arms at his brother. You’ve always noticed how small Sam makes himself when he’s talking to other people, mostly girls, like he doesn’t want to overpower them when he easily could, it helps calm you down, for sure, but when he’s doing it with his brother, it’s different. 

It’s out of love, devotion, trust. And it’s scary to see because you feel like you’re watching a scene that’s not yours to analyze. But he’s letting you. Dean winks at you once before turning around to face Sam. 

“Let’s talk. Privately.” Dean clicks his tongue in the direction of Sam’s room and he agrees, moving over to you again, putting both hands on your shoulder. It has the opposite effect that dean’s had on you. It’s calming— sedating. 

“You stay in my room, I’ll come get you.” And then he steals glances around your whole face, like he’s studying your features, “do you wanna leave? I can drive you home.”

You open your mouth to protest before shutting it again. Does that mean he wants you to leave? Is it an indirect un-invitation? He looks sincere though. “I’m askin’ ‘cause I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable. Nothing else.”

You take a breath before shaking your head, then decide to use your voice like the big girl you are— because otherwise you’re a toddler, scared by her fathers side at the mall. “Yeah, I’ll stay in your room. But if you want me to leave, Sam—.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gives you a half smile but it’s enough to melt your insides. “You can use whatever you want in there, and the Wi-FI’s password is written on the wall.” You all but run into his room and away from the two brothers, shutting the door with a loud slam. 

This is super normal and not at all worrying. You should text your mum in case it’s the last time. Hold that thought— Jessica first. 

As promised, the password is on the door, written in a paper stuck on the back of it. You put it in then text Jess back.

Jess: What is happening!!!!

Jess: What’s happened to ‘never gonna happen’.

Jess: Are you fucking? Don’t tell me.

Jess: Don’t fuck him!!!! He could be not single.

What. The. Hell. 

You: What?

Jess: Thank fuck. You’re not having sex, right? Or did he finish already? Jess: He used to be better at it.

You: What do you mean he’s not single?

Jess: Not saying he isn’t but Gen says he’s been talking to some girls, it’s why she was worried about you going out.

Jess: We don’t know if he’s just friends with these girls or not but she says he’s been texting + going out with Lily.

You: Oh but they’re project partners.

Jess: Yeah they just got assigned today. They’ve been going out alone for a few weeks now.

You: Before or after the party?

Jess: Since before. They didn’t stop after the party either. 

God, you’re going to be sick. Great so he’s dropping off the face of the earth with his brother, but before he does that he’s breaking your heart. ‘Cause why the fuck do one when you can do both? 

And the worst part is you have no reason to be upset about any of this. He doesn’t owe you an explanation about Lily or Dean or whether or not he’s taking the semester off or if he’s staying after graduation— it’s all a lot. You thought this would be the beginning of something. Something worthwhile, and he was having fun, just passing the time.

You enter the bathroom to make sure your makeup is still intact. It isn’t, but you did it up quite quickly and have enough time to snoop around. You can cry over a man when you’re alone in the comfort of your room, not his. Even the room is so perfectly him. There’s pictures almost everywhere and you remember hearing him or Jess mention how much he’s into photography, took after his mother. He’s in only two of the pictures. 

One of them has Dean and an older man you assume is their father. The other is him and Jess, back from when they’re dating— other than that it’s mostly scenery and his friends. There’s even one of Jess and Gen with your best friend laying her head on Gen’s lap. 

You’re about to ruffle through the desk when you hear rustling and a loud groan from one of the boys. Then another and— oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck, are they fighting?

When you’re mother first equipped you for America she had two rules:

Don’t speak to strangers.

Hold rocks in your purse to hit said stranger if they want to fight.

That’s really all, and you’ve held up your end of the deal. But she never really told you what to do when the stranger isn’t a stranger and you’re actually in their house and he’s fighting his brother. 

You peek through the window and— nope, you’re on the third floor. Too far away to jump. Maybe you should try to rummage around here for a cigarette? Yeah, that’s a good idea. You desperately go through drawers without actually going through them— you don’t want to invade his privacy, just find the damn pack you know he has around here— oh, a disposable. Okay, pOtato, potAto.

You take a second to pray that it’s not dead before taking a drag and, thank God, blueberry. Huh, seems like Sam has a preference. Maybe he asked Jess to bring blueberry cigarettes last time, now that would be a turn of events. And it would also mean he lied to you, how are you supposed to feel about that? About the same way you feel about him hanging out with Lily? He never mentioned it. And back at the mall he said ‘I don’t wanna leave you’, what, did he say that to Lily too? Is he trying out to become an anchor? 

You take three more drags before the door is thrown off its hinges and Sam stomps right through it and into his bathroom. Oh. He doesn’t even spare you a glance and you find yourself looking for dean. He’s right there, breathing just as heavily as Sam was, but that didn’t stop him from sending another wink your way, a little slow and lazy.

For the first time in your life, you decide to muster up enough courage to walk over to him, offering his brother’s vape to him. Look at that, your mother did teach you manners.

He shakes his head and takes a step back to lean on the kitchen counter. The support is welcomed by his whole body as he almost collapses into it. “We didn’t scare you, did we?”

Fuck yeah, you’re scared. Who does this dude think he’s talking to? An FBI agent? You’re a college girl studying Med, hearing police sirens while you’re walking at night creep you out.

But you shake your head anyways because, again, manners. “Are you okay?” You ask with genuine concern. You step a little closer to examine the bruise on his head, right below his hairline. 

Does that mean that Sam had a matching one? Should you go help him?

“Sam’s fine.” Oh. That’s good.

“But you’re not. Do you know where he keeps his first aid kit? I can clean it up for you.” Dean adamantly shakes his head, making you frown. Wasn’t he hitting on you minutes ago? Now he doesn’t wanna touch you? “Dean, are you sure? You should really clean that up. It might get infected.” Highly unlikely but it’s not good to keep it unsterile anyways.

“I’m fine,” he grits out, but it’s not as harsh as you expect. He’s just overwhelmed, maybe, or angry. At himself? At Sam? At you for intruding? And then he sighs, takes an incredibly deep breath like it’s taking everything in his soul and mind to say, “‘fine, yeah, you can do it.” As if you offered to blow him or something. Grow up, man, you were just trying to help.

Again, manners. So you keep your polite tone as you ask him again for the first aid kit and he says this is his first time here. Great, you’re both strangers in Sam’s home but at least one of you was invited, Dean.

“You don’t seem to like me very much.” He says quietly as you keep opening and shutting drawers. Sam’s a responsible guy, he must have something lying around. 

“I don’t not like you. I just don’t know you. And Sam is my friend who you just beat up so I’m not exactly fond of you at the moment, no.” Honesty’s great. Yeah, give it right to the man who’s a couple inches taller than you and packing on more muscle than you can imagine yourself having if you workout for ten years straight. Smart ideas all around, really. 

You take another longer drag this time. The buzz is worth it, it’s helping you relax enough that you’re not about to blow your head off about being in Sam’s house with Dean.

Another hit: from both the vape and Dean, “He hit me first.”

“Did you provoke him?” Dean shrugs like a child trying to feign innocence. It’s obvious this is all Dean’s fault and he knows it, you just wish you knew the reason. “Why, though? What happened?”

He hesitates then shuts his mouth closed. Now he chooses to be a good brother?

You find the first aid kit under all the drawers (which, fuck you, Sam, why would you do that?) and ask Dean to sit on one of the chairs. He obeys and you start to take out the rubbing alcohol, “this part will sting a little, so try to hold on to something— not me!” You shriek when his hands land on your waist. 

“Closest thing,” he shrugs like it’s nothing and you take a deep breath, applying more alcohol to the cotton. He can take it.

He doesn’t groan out when you pat the cotton onto the small wound, just hisses. The man hisses like he just got cold coffee spilled on him, the wound isn’t massive or anything, but really? How high is someone’s pain tolerance to be able to do that? 

You don’t want to think about it because tolerance is built. And that’s just… not a fun thing to ponder on. You try to finish as quickly as possible and half way through his hands on your waist don’t bother you anymore, a minute after, he eases them off. Dean doesn’t seem like he wants to cause issues, he’s just… troubled. Though you’re sure he’d deck you twice as hard as he did to Sam if you mention that.

Speaking of the devil, he’s out of the bathroom with fresh clothes but it’s apparent he didn’t shower. Just in his home clothes. Cute considering you’re not which means you’re overdressed between the three of you. You finish Dean up and place a bandage on the bruise. “There!” 

You smile as you examine your work and move back. Your first ever patient! It’s exciting to think you did so well without any guidance even when your hand was shaking the whole time. “Thanks, angel, where’d you learn that?”

“Angel?”

“She’s in Med. What are you still doing here, Dean?” Sam’s voice is rough, like he’s been shouting. Were they yelling? How did you not hear them? 

Oh, the buzz. Would giving Sam the Dispo now be rude? Come to think of it, taking it was rude. Oh, God, is this what stealing feels like?

“Hey,” Sam calls your name and you snap out of it, whipping your head back to face him. “You okay?” He’s wearing a black shirt. Just plain black, which is tight in all the right places, and grey sweatpants. Grey sweatpants. Who on this earth sold this man grey sweatpants? What were they thinking? They weren’t obviously, but you are. You can see it clearly now: College Girls Drop Dead At The Hand Of A Sam Winchester. Reason Of Death: The Sweatpants. 

“You okay?” Why is he asking again? Were you staring? 

“I’m fine. Are you?” You walk away from Dean and his magnetic hold on you to check Sam out. Last time you touched him was— never. He’s always touched you first. So… here goes nothing. You had your hands up for a second, asking for permission, consent, whatever, and his gaze switches from your eyes to your lips then back again so you take it as a yes and move his hair from his face. 

There are no injuries, you’re sure of it, but maybe you should run your hands through his hair just in case. For his safety. You drop your hands like it’s on fire before you actually do it and smile up at him. “Good, you’re okay.” He nods and looks past you, probably at Dean and you sigh. Okay. Night ruined.

“Okay, so, I’m gonna go and I’ll see you—” Sam furrows his eyes brows and shakes his head placing his hands on your shoulders. Again.

“No, no, you said you stay. We agreed to it.”

“Right, but that was before I knew your brother was staying over—”

“He’s not. You can still take Gen’s room. Don’t worry. He’s just leaving, right, Dean?” He bites out and your eyes widen. 

“No, no, Sam, seriously, not a big deal—”

“Do you wanna leave?” How is that relevant! You don’t, honestly. After hearing what Jess had to say about Sam and now Dean’s beat up face, Sam wanting to leave, it’s a lot to process. And you were fine with processing it next to Sam as long as you guys could talk about it but he seems on edge now, erratic, you don’t want to mess with him, or stay in a house alone with him when he’s like this. 

He doesn’t seem like he’ll hurt you, infact, his face softens the second he looks at you, but you can’t risk it. “Sam, it’s not that I don’t want to…” He raises his eyebrows for a second before scoffing letting go of you. “It’s not… it just seems like there’s a lot for you right now, I don’t want to get in the middle of that.”

“I want you in the middle of it.” Is someone escorting Dean out or will you have to confess your feelings in the middle of the crowded kitchen/living room? “But if you want to leave then I’ll drive you, it’s fine. I just need you to know that I want you to stay.”

And with those eyes? Those eyes and that hair falling over those eyes? How can you say no? You let out a shaky breath before throwing yourself into his chest and he easily wraps his arms around you. This is probably the second time you’ve hugged ever, but it’s worth every second because Sam’s so much taller than you in a way that’s comforting beyond belief. Not just because he tries to make himself smaller, but because he carries himself that way too. Small equals ‘there for you’ and ‘your wall’. And he kind of is. His arms are solid against you back and you feel a strand of your hair get caught in between his fingers. 

It doesn’t take a few seconds for you to pull away— both out of respect for Dean and because you don’t want to overdo it with Sam. “I’ll stay. In Gen’s room.” He nods like it’s the end of it but you add, “If you promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t kick me out.” He frowns. You take out the vape from your back pocket, “I found it in your drawer. Sorry.” He smiles and leans down to your ears, “what’s mine’s yours, sweetheart.” He’s saying it to be kind, whatever, but it still makes your heart flutter to hear. 

He points to the room behind his, the only other door in the apartment, says it’s Gen’s room and that the sheets are clean. Which translates to: ‘go inside and I’ll get rid of Dean’.

True to his unspoken words, Dean is gone in less than fifteen minutes and you’re kind of disappointed you didn’t say goodbye. Sam comes into the room to find you on the bed, vape in one hand, phone in the other, texting.

“What’re you doing?” He shuts the door behind him and your eyes skim your surroundings. Alone in a room with Sam. 

“Texting. Jess. She’s been worried the whole night and I didn’t want her to freak out.”

“Oh, why’d she be freaked?” Fuck your brain and your oversharing tendencies and fuck you Sam for being obversant.

“Just— you know—”

“I don’t.” Well, duh, or else you wouldn’t ask, but the answer isn’t one you’re willing to give so you shrug and lean into the bed further, still above the sheets. You can’t believe you’re sleeping in jeans just to stay over at Sam’s. The things you do on low sleep, man. “Are you comfortable?” At least he isn’t a dick that insists on your answer.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just, you’re wearing jeans.” 

“That’s what I came with, yes.”

“Do you wanna change? I can get you something else to wear? Besides, aren't you cold?” He’s right, the only thing that was keeping you warm was the green jacket you had on which was discarded on the chair, leaving you in a tank top. You’re cold, sure, a little uncomfortable, maybe, but enough to take Sam’s clothes… yes, you’d take them even if you weren’t freezing your ass off.

“What do you have?” You smile a little before he points to Gen’s closet and oh. Right. The other girl that lives here. “Sam, no it’s fine, I don’t want to intrude on Gen.” Rummaging through Sam’s thing while he’s in the room next to you is fine, using Gen’s clothes while she’s in another house? Not respectful. 

“She wouldn’t mind—”

“Honestly, I’m not that cold.”

“You’re shivering.” Not to sound like a three year old or anything but someone could practically blow on you and you’d shiver. It's not that serious. But when you tell him that he shakes his head and walks out of the door. Is he pissed off? Like actually genuinely pissed off? Should you look through Gen’s closet for something to wear so he’d be okay? That seems wrong but… it’s his house, his rules.

You’re still heavily overthinking it by the time he comes back and you let out a breath of pure relief. He can’t be that mad if he’s back. And he’s handing you clothes. “Here, mine. So your moral obligations can rest.” You smile and shake your head, getting out of the bed. His hand’s extended so you take it anyways.

“Sam, I’m fine like this—”

“I’m not letting you sleep in jeans, and you can’t convince me to.” You notice his dimples for the first time. Sam is all smiles whenever he’s around people, but you’ve never actually noticed his dimples before, and they’re just as perfect as the rest of him that you’re jealous. And in love, just a little. 

“Sam,” you call out as he turns to walk out. He knows what’s coming. You know what’s coming. Your sister knows what’s coming (you found time to fill her in). “What happened with Dean out there? I thought you said he’d want you to leave. Didn’t you want to go with him?”

His shoulders deflate and he turns around. “It’s nothing, just got rough.”

“Meaning? Come on, he was the whole reason we went out tonight then you find him at your house and you’re not freaked? Tell me what happened.” Pushy is one word to call what you’re doing. Another is fucking annoying. You won’t even say the third.

“Dean’s— Dad. Our Dad is… he’s gone or he’s hiding or something and Dean wants me to look for him.” His dad is lost… as an exterminator? Okay… 

“Why aren’t you guys freaked out?”

“Because he’s usually just takin’ a break from Dean or something but Dean says he’s sure that he’s actually gone missing—”

“Then call the police.” You say obviously and Sam purses his lips. He’s not irritated, but he looks like he doesn’t want to explain the situation to you so you back off. “I’m going to change.” You say as you head for the bathroom door, “but look, Sam, talk to me, okay? If you want. Or Lily or Jess but talk—”

“Lily?” He interrupts with a scowl, a hand coming up to tame his slightly messed up hair. 

“Yeah, you know, your friends.”

“Me and Lily aren’t like… friends friends.”

“I don’t know, people say otherwise,” okay now he’s irritated, “but anyways, none of my business obviously, I’m going to change.”

“Hey, stop doing that. Stop avoiding something the second you say it! Why would you bring up Lily?”

You bite your bottom lip between your teeth and shrug, the clothes suddenly feeling twenty kilograms heavier in your hand. “Jess said you guys have been going out for a while now. Which, you know, I don’t know how she’d feel about me staying over—”

“I told you she’s my presentation partner.” His voice isn’t raised, just seems like he’s trying to understand where you’re coming from and you sound like you don’t want to be having this conversation. Because you don’t. 

“Yeah, but Jess said you’ve been hanging out even before Lily’s birthday party and I just didn’t want to assume or anything, I guess.” He steps closer to you and you contemplate taking a step back but he’s already close enough to touch you now. He takes the clothes in your hands and placed them on the chair next to him. “Sam, it’s fine, obviously, I just don’t want her to be mad.”

“I’m not with Lily, and we’re not dating or anything. We study together sometimes, we’re friends and she’s cool but we’re just that. Friends.” You nod and take a step back to help you breathe better, “I’m not just saying that. We are.”

“You don’t have to convince me of anything, you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t want you thinking that I like anyone that way,” he says the last word as he moves towards you. You’re trapped between his body and the bathroom door behind you. 

“Like a relationship?” He nods and you consider asking if he thinks of you like that but you couldn’t handle the rejection if you tried. 

You turn the knob around and slam the fucking door in Sam’s face. 

part five; smear the innocence of my lips.

title: beautiful boy by esha tewari

main masterlist

have no idea how I finished this in one sitting. 4k worlds in one sitting is my new record. hope you guys liked this one, I like where it’s going right now but I’m racking my brain for an ending soon if you have ideas tell me.

and if you wanna be tagged for future chapters, comment!

Tag list:

@angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats 

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403 @wattpaduser200 @s0urw00lf @ashlynyyyyy

@strabarrybat @anu-piyakya97

[pompadourpink]

hi ive always wanted to learn french but i dont have a lot of time and not really discipline either what is your advice? thank you, love your blog

Hello,

About the time: you don't need that much. Fifteen minutes every day is better than five hours once a year.

About the discipline: you don't need that much if you know why you're here. Make a list of small goals and try to hit one every week (read an article about fashion, translate a chapter of your favourite children's book, watch a Bluey episode, write a diary entry). Have a bigger one, like chatting with natives when you visit in Year X, get a picture of the city you're going to, frame it, put it up.

If feasible, book me! If you are a student, I take 25 euros (or US$27 or £21) an hour - and if your currency makes it hard, I'm always open to discussion! I have been blogging since 2016 so reading the blog and exploring tags will help but having someone experienced signal the right direction is very valuable to avoid learning blindly or memorising the wrong rule or pronunciation, etc.

What fifteen minutes look like:

1/ Re-read what you read yesterday, study your notes: read them out lout (la chaise - the chair), repeat them while looking away, write them down again, hide one half then the other, from top to bottom then from bottom to top. I recommend Notion for this, handwritten notes get messy.

Do an activity: the Linguno A1 crossword in level, theme and present conjugation (move up when you get bored) is great. When you get better, you can write down what you did yesterday or record yourself summarising something out.

Reading: anything you like as long as it's fun, whether it is a Reddit post, a newspaper article, your daily horoscope, or a few pages from a children's book or comic.

I understand that a lot of reading may seem like a narrow way to learn but I have been doing this job for almost four and a half years and one thing is clear: trying to simultaneously learn every aspect of another language, let along one that has very little to do with your own, is the best way to get discouraged.

Reading will get you to learn vocabulary, understand how syntax word, memorise conjugation, get you an idea of when to use what tense, which will then make your life easy when you start listening, speaking, or writing, because you know how the choreography goes, you just need a minute to put your feet down.

Hope this helps and good luck! x

[pixieskie]

˖˚˳⊹"i really do love you.. im sorry"˖˚˳⊹

-warnings: Angst, depress!on, su!c!dal thoughts, detachment, scars, body dysmorphia, disassociation, not proofread, chubby reader. -chars mentioned: Scaramouche -wc: 0.6k -a/n: i dont even know what to say.. Um this is .. something.. enjoy?

masterlist

as someone who felt every emotion more intense than others, it also meant feeling more sad. it should've been fine but you simply couldn't feel happy.. you have friends and family but still felt so lonely..

“helloooo” scaramouche waved his hand infront of your face to get your attention.

Suddenly looking up, you see him frowning at you. “what’re you thinking so hard about.. do you not wanna watch the movie?”

“sorry.. i just spaced out” you said embarrassed.. “just continue the movie, ill pay attention this time”.. Scara simply muttered a small ‘fine’ and resumed it.

Scaramouche is your best friend, the one you share everything with. But.. he could never understand the depth of your emotions.. The void you feel inside.. The aching loneliness that consumes you at every moment.

“Yes lets go to the beach!! itll be perf....”

“ooh i just bought a new bikini…..”

“wont it be too sunny? ill get tanne….”

you drowned out their conversation and thought of excuses to skip… you had no other choice.. a bikini wouldn't cover your scars, stretch marks or tummy fat.. it would be on display for everyone to see your insecurities and then they'd hate you.

“guys im sorry but i have to study this weekend.. exams are close”

“again? but didnt you say the same last week…”

“oh come on! itll be so fun…”

“ugh she does the same everytime…”

Ofcourse they wouldn't understand.. They had the perfect body..

The words were blurred as you tried to read them.. Nothing made sense to you anymore.. Your exams were near and you have to study but the words together don't make sense anymore..

Sighing, you went to splash some water on your face to wake yourself up. Looking up into the mirror, you saw failure.. Someone who cant study.. Someone who wouldnt be able to make a living..

You sat back down at your desk.. You can study and change your future right? its just a book..

But.. you cant make yourself read the words anymore.. you felt so tired..

Why cant you also be like others?.. Everyone else is so successful and perfect.. They have good grades, perfect body and happy lives..

You sat on the edge of the roof.. This used to be your hang out spot with Scara but eventually you both stopped meeting there.

“where the fuc- YOURE HERE?” Scara dramatically sighed, huffing. “Ive been searching all over for you. Come on, ive made dinner.. you have to eat something”

You chucked softly at his caring nature and nodded silently.. “Scara?” he was about to leave but turned back to look at you “yeah?”

“I love you”

He chuckled in confusion “yeah yeah i get it, i love you too. no need to get all sentimental with me, its just dinner.”

You turned back to the sky once he left. He probably went to your kitchen to fill a plate for you..

You smiled at the thought. He was the best person you could've asked for..

And it hurts. He cared for you so much but you couldn't appreciate it..

Leaving never had to be this painful.. But a tear fell down and you closed your eyes, recounting your memories..

There were so many happy moments you never got to enjoy.. Sad moments you stayed numb.. And the huge gap in your memory.. and nobody knew how you felt because you never let them.

‘Im so tired… Im so tired..” You looked at your feet, dangling off the roof.. ‘i hate this .. i dont wanna do this.. but theres nothing else to be done’

You took a deep breath in.. “i really do love you.. im sorry”...

…..

tags: @rubywonu @stygianoir @unsavoy-melon @kashiiwi @babbledabble25

[satuguro]

*ೃ࿐TO FAULT A NET

[ ACT IV: REAP WHAT YOU SOW ]

spider-man! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— your reputation matters more than you think, superheroes aren't good with emotions, mindy and chad are always ready to fight each other, and ethan can recognize you by your smile alone.

#CONTAINS— enemies to lovers, slowburn, antihero&vigilante reader, familial issues, implication of ptsd, gore, blood, murder, death, reader is overly flirtatious, reader & ethan had trust issues

#AUTHORSNOTE— ethan and the reader are so 'she fell first but he fell harder' coded, also this was supposed to be one long part but i spit it into two bc tumblr wouldn't let me edit so i'm sorry in advance xx

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

you still couldn't believe that you had brought the hero over into your apartment.

your promise to catch ghostface with him was followed by a pregnant pause as you both sipped your glasses of water. the hero was still playing with your cats (they loved him) as he drank water, his mind trying to process what had just happened.

from behind the mask, ethan wanted to cry. he wanted to sob and break everything in his path because he had just lost quinn, and he blamed himself for it all.

the sound of your feet shuffling away from him made him look at you in interest. you were moving carefully, the stitches he had done to your side inhibiting your movement. ethan could see how uncomfortable you felt, but you hid it from him as you began taking out two pots, putting it into your sink to fill both with water.

"should i go?" ethan began, carefully picking up your cats and putting them on the floor. he stood up. "you seem.."

you pulled out two ramen packets, looking at him with a raised brow. you then walked to your fridge, pulling out two eggs.

"you seem busy. making food." he swallowed thickly, watching as you placed the eggs to the side and put your pots of water on the stove before turning on the heat.

"i am kind of busy," you said pointedly, glancing at your pots of water before looking at the hero. the upper portion of your face was still hidden by your black mask, but ethan could see your indifferent gaze as you studied him. "why, do you wanna stay?"

the whites of his mask blinked at that. his mask, still pulled up to reveal half his face, revealed how he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, thinking about your offer. he seemed unsure. distrustful. exhausted; which honestly, made sense.

you gave him time to think as you turned to your now boiling water. you put the two eggs into one pot before opening the packets of ramen. but your actions faltered when you heard his response.

".. do you want me to stay?" the hero asked you, tilting his head slightly.

a beat. "no." you stated dryly, putting the ramen noodles into the water. "but i feel like you've been eyeing my food ever since i asked— it's kind of hard to tell with the whole mask thing —but i'm guessing you're hungry."

the parts of his face that were unmasked turned a soft shade of red at that. ethan cleared his throat, walking towards where you stood, he leaned on your counter with his back to the countertop. you could feel his eyes on you, watching you as you used a fork to mix the noodles in the boiling water.

"so you do want me to stay," he said with a ghost of a smile.

"no, i don't. but you're staying regardless, aren't you?"

"just for the food," he hummed. "and your cats."

"not for my presence, spider?" you asked, your flirtatious side coming out of you.

"your kind presence?" he tsked. "no." he said, making you roll your eyes. but he saw that rare, downturned smile that tugged at your lips.

his sister. quinn is his sister.

the sudden pause in your actions made ethan peer at you from behind his mask. the realization of what he had said dawned on him, his eyes widening from behind mask.

"she was like a sister to me."

he was lying to you.

you were both playing an unspoken game, two brilliant people with incredible abilities constantly one upping each other, catching onto the clues and making conclusions before the other could reach them. pushing and pulling, trying to solve a string of killers all while hiding who you really were from someone you found stitching up even though you knew you didn't have to.

you quickly returned to stitching him up, your hands now steady as you pushed the needle into his skin again. it reminded you so much of your past, how your world and your idea of your father turned completely sideways when you patched him up. the mere action of patching someone else up who wasn't you made turmoil brew in your eyes.

you were a selfish person. you had stepped on other criminals to get what you wanted, stepped on other people in order to achieve the highest reward; the criminal world knew better than to trust you completely for fear of your lies and manipulation. but to you, patching up someone's injury was something akin to sacred.

it meant you cared.

and that terrified you.

you came to one conclusion as you stitched up his wound for once, your memories were muffled, overtaken by the connection you had made.

ethan was spider-man.

and he knew you made that connection. just by how quiet you had gotten, just by how your hands, once trembling with the weight of the past, steadied.

you couldn't say anything. not without compromising your own true identity. not without compromising the deal you two had, because who would the police care about more, the identity of a superhero or the identity of a woman who had been stealing since she was a child? who had stolen files from their department and gave them to others without another word, who at times stole evidence just to be able to pay the rent.

you couldn't have him know. and you couldn't have him turn you in.

always one step ahead of him. but for some unknown reason, he could read you like his favorite book, and you could study him as though he was your favorite painting. it was as though your mind had chosen to learn his sincerity, and his learned the hidden meanings behind your written words.

but if you knew his family relations, just how close were you to the group? the fact that you most likely knew who he was behind the mask terrified him, because not only did he not know who you were, but you were only working with him because of a deal.

he couldn't turn you in if you helped him catch the killer.

feeding into your suspicions would only give you leverage above him. something to feed to the mafia, to the criminals, to anyone. and more people would get hurt.

you were untrustworthy. maybe it was because his sister died, or maybe because ethan had been stressing over everything so much that he found himself shutting down his emotions again and again for the sake of finding the killer.

he needed to get you away.

"i have to go." he stood up abruptly, his wound only halfway stitched up.

"what?" your eyes widened at his words. "now? i'm not even done stitching you up—"

"i'll do the rest myself."

"like hell you will," you snapped, the sudden change in his mood making you not only confused, but curious. "i'll finish it—" you protested, walking after him as he made his way to the window. but before he could shove your window open, he turned to you.

"why're you helping me?"

his question made your breath hitch, the words on your tongue dying as you blinked.

because i'm not as heartless as you think i am. oh, i also need you to not turn me into the police, so i can't have you dying in gale weather's apartment. but there's more to that.

"you patched me up," you forced out, "i'm returning the favor."

"you and i both know that you don't just patch people up like this." the whites of his mask narrowed at you, his heartbeat pumping loudly in his ears.

"what's that supposed to mean?" you asked slowly, suddenly annoyed at his words.

the hero let out a huff, his filter completely gone and manipulated by the constant stress and turmoil he had felt over the past week. "even the police know that you've manipulated your way around criminals and mafias because everyone knows you work alone," he said through gritted teeth. "you don't act kind just because you care—"

"fuck you," you seethed, but you couldn't deny it. you had a long history of manipulation, of acting for your own benefit and choosing yourself over others. and the deal to never get caught by him was still weighing on your mind.

"you act like you care to get your way. but if i'm wrong, then tell me." from behind the mask, ethan studied your face, brows furrowed when he looked at you. "tell me that you're not known for doing that. that you're not still in this because you're just trying to make sure i won't turn you in to the police in the future. tell me that you're genuinely starting to care, that you aren't just using me. tell me."

there was a beat of silence. your jaw clenched as you looked into the whites of his mask, not backing down from his stare. he was so close to you. his breath fanned over your lips, his own lips slightly parted.

it seemed as though the tension thickened with every passing second as you wracked your brain for what to say. for what to tell him.

because as much as he was correct, if you were to just agree, it didn't feel honest. there was more to your actions, but even you didn't know what it was.

but that was a lie too. you knew exactly why your actions were becoming more selfless, why you found yourself thinking about others more and more. thinking about him more and more.

you were getting attached.

and because you couldn't say anything, because you had never been good with speaking about your emotions, you did what your gut told you to.

you hooked your finger on the collar of his suit and tugged him in, pressing your lips to his. you felt his breath hitch before his hand went to your neck, slowly moving up to hold the back of your head as he pulled you closer to him, his other hand pulling your waist closer to his body. your senses were full of him and only him, how he smelled like like cedarwood and musk, how he tasted sweet despite the blood he spat from his mouth earlier, how he was so warm, like a furnace that soothed your cold limbs.

you pulled away from him, your forehead resting on his. a single string of spit connecting the both of your lips with a single horizontal swipe of your tongue across your bottom lip, the connection was broken.

his adam's apple bobbed as his heavy breaths matched yours. "please tell me you're not just in it for the deal anymore."

your lack of a response made his heart ache. he searched for any sign of hesitancy in your eyes, something, anything to showed that you cared, but you avoided his gaze.

the deal still mattered to you. you were using him to evade police. his face fell at the realization.

the hero scoffed in disbelief, pulling away from you. just like that, your limbs were pulled away from the heat, your world didn't smell like cedarwood and him, and the taste of pennies was all you could feel on your tongue. "right." his finger hooked over where his mask was pulled up, pulling it down over the rest of his face as he opened your window. without another word, he swung away, making you clench your fists in frustration.

in the end, you always had yourself.

you tore your mask off your head, frustrated tears burning behind your eyes as you moved to your window and shut it, this time, making sure you locked it behind you.

"you're a liar! let me go—" you kicked against the man's arms that wrapped around you as though you were practically nothing but a box he had to carry. tears blurred your vision as you looked at the man in front of you, his grey eyes cold as he looked at you.

you used to look up to him. your father used to bring him into your home— the only person you ever remembered visiting —introducing him as frank costa. uncle frank.

he had taken you in after your father had died. cared for you, fed you, provided you shelter. you were 16 now, making it six years since he stepped in as your father figure. six years since he claimed that as your father's best friend, that he felt like it was his duty to care for you.

it was all a lie. it was all a lie, because he was the reason why your father was caught escaping prison. it was all because of him.

"let me go!" you cried, your screams of betrayal turning into sobs as your head hung low, tears dripping onto the concrete floor. he was using you. using you to continuously steal for him in exchange for the simple necessities you needed to survive. and as you grew older, as your skills became more precise, so did his greed. your thefts grew larger. pick pocketed wallets became jewelry from houses, and then that became jewelry from museums.

you were being used. used for your skills, trained to become some thief simply to survive a day.

"i always guessed that this day would come, you know," frank said, looking at you as though you were nothing. as though those years of pretending to care was finally coming out for what it truly was; hatred. pure contempt. "you were always so clever. just like your fucking father." he punched you in the face, making you groan in pain when you felt a crack in your nose. "so fucking stupid. refusing the biggest crime family in new york for what? for nothing." another punch to the other side of your face. his crony let you go, making you fall on the floor.

a swift kick to your side made you taste iron. another kick to your back made you nearly lose consciousness.

frank grabbed you by the collar, lifting you up to study you cruelly. there wasn't anything in his eyes as he admired his work of bruises and injuries, watching as blood flowed from your nose like a continuous faucet. your eyes were half lidded as you drifted in and out of consciousness. the weight of your head was too much for you, and you found yourself struggling to keep it up.

and when you found the little bit of strength to do so, you spat in his face, the splatter bloody along the expanse of his cheek. but as you spat, your hand also curled around the gun he kept at his side.

"you fucking bitch," frank sneered at you before shoving you to the ground again, making you skid against the concrete. the rough graveled ground made gashes all along your exposed arms and legs, and you found yourself lying in a fetus position, cradling the gun to your chest to hide it from them.

and as he and his worker advanced towards you, ready to beat you to death, you pointed the gun towards them and shot them both. his worker in the head, frank in the chest.

you listened as frank choked on his own blood next to you. you sat there in that empty warehouse, listening to the squelching sounds of blood pouring from frank's mouth. pulling your legs to your chest, feeling the continuous pain from all over your body, you cried. you cried like the 16 year old you were, your back heaving with every gut-wrenching sob you let echo around you. when that was all you heard, when you were surrounded by your own sobs, you realized just how lonely you were. how you had no one, and how you wished that someone would come in to care for you. but no one did.

no one was looking for you, no one comforted you. because all you had was yourself.

patrol was quieter when he was alone.

ethan realized that now, as he watched policemen fix the caution tapes around the carpenter sisters' apartment. usually he wasn't one to shy away from playful banter with the policemen (as he felt as though they all had sticks up their asses in some way), but he had no energy. no drive. he hadn't, not for a while.

without you shamelessly commenting on everything and humoring him with your dry humor, he found the nights to be quieter. not necessarily more peaceful, but quieter regardless. ethan wasn't sure if he appreciated it, but it's what he wanted.

his mind was full of the killer, his sister, and most importantly, you. how you seemingly oozed distrust, how your appreciation and oftentimes liking for your position as a criminal made you the last person many people would choose as an ally.

but then his mind drifted to how you didn't hesitate to drag him into your home and patch him up. how, despite the memories that obviously plagued your mind, you forced yourself to continue on.

but then brought up the question of your possible knowledge of his identity. why didn't you say anything? admitting his true name did make him realize that you probably did know him outside of his mask. and that would make him suspicious of your identity.

it was all too complicated, and ethan felt so many emotions at this point, that he just felt numb. apathetic. like a mindless robot going about his day, eating with no appetite, drinking with no thirst. just surviving.

it had carried on even in his day to day activities outside of superhero work. it had been three days since the last attack, and everyone was surprised that there had been nothing. no threats, no calls, nothing. but even though everyone was surprised and only mildly pleased, they were still all on edge.

the door to his and chad's dorm opened as tara walked in with mindy. ethan didn't look up from his position on the couch, only raising his hand in a half assed wave towards them. his eyes were set on his phone as he mindlessly scrolled through social media, ready to drown out whatever they were talking about.

"we were gonna stay in tonight, maybe order takeout. it isn't safe for us to all be split up," tara said to you as you hesitantly walked into chad and ethan's dorm.

"you should join, y/n. you know, just so that we can watch over you," mindy stated, and you shrugged as you closed the door behind you. if anything, you appreciated mindy's honesty more than most.

"why not," you said in response, face falling when your eyes landed on ethan's. he seemed to not expect your presence either as he stared at you, his lips slightly parted, throat suddenly dry, face slightly flushed.

there it was again, that sense of familiarity he felt.

"hi," ethan said awkwardly, swallowing thickly as he quickly moved a bit to the side of the couch just in case you wanted to sit. "i— uh, haven't seen you in a while."

but he had. you forced a tight-lipped smile, one that didn't really reach your eyes as you took his silent offer and sat on the other side of the couch. "thanks," you murmured, looking away from him to stare at the t.v that played some show.

a beat of silence. "are you okay?" he suddenly asked you, making you glance at him. those brown eyes of his— the same eyes you always wondered were behind the mask —stared at you expectingly.

"i should be asking you that," you replied smoothly, easily lying past your emotions.

"but i asked you first."

"so?"

"so, you answer first. c'mon," ethan pushed, worry flashing in his eyes as he noted your lack of sleep.

you blinked at him. "i'm fine. i feel.. fine." another lie. "your turn to answer."

ethan shrugged, looking at the t.v show. "better than before, in some ways. i guess."

"hey—" mindy walked out of chad's room to look at the both of you, her hand covering the bottom of her phone. "i'm ordering chinese takeout right now. what did you two want?"

you thought for a second. "is it from the place on mott street?"

she nodded.

"i'll have the braised noodles and beef." you caught the look ethan gave you from the corner of your eye. "what? that place is good."

a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "i'll have the same thing," he told mindy, who gave them both a thumbs up before disappearing into chad's room again. "d'you eat there a lot?" ethan asked you, unable to stop his curiosity.

"i did. used to be my favorite place when i was younger." you tilted your head slightly as you turned your body a bit to face him. as he spoke, it made more and more sense for him to be the web-slinging hero. ethan was more serious when he was behind the mask, sure, but the way he talked was the same.

"i haven't had the time to try as many restaurants around here as i wanted to," ethan said.

"i can bring you to my favorite spots some time." the offer fell from your mouth before you could catch it, but it made a genuine, hopeful smile appear on his face.

his smile was the same too.

you turned your body away from him and didn't speak to him after that. you had to keep yourself away from him. there was no reason for you to care.

an hour and a half passed before the food actually arrived. the entire group— tara, sam, sam's boyfriend (danny, you learned his name was), mindy, and chad —all sat in the living room, some of them sitting on the floor.

"we are not watching a scary movie, mindy! this is arguably the worst time to do that!" chad said to his twin, who only rolled her eyes stubbornly.

"the original nightmare on elm street is literally a masterpiece— chad, give me the remote!" she lunged towards him as he held it away from her, their bickering making you watch on interestedly.

you slurped a noodle, chewing it briefly before swallowing. "are they always like this?" you murmured to yourself, watching as mindy finally snatched the remote from chad. sam and danny occupied the other half of the couch, making you (much to your chagrin) move closer to ethan.

noodles slipped from his chopsticks again, a frustrated huff escaping him as he tried to pick it up again. his focus was honed into trying to pick up the noodle, so much so, that he didn't answer your question.

you turned to him, the past promise you made yourself to try and not engage faltering as you watched him amusedly. you watched for a minute until he realized you were staring, his cheeks flaring in embarrassment.

"thanks for the help, y/n," ethan muttered sarcastically. he watched as a genuine smile tugged at your lips. a downturned one, one that fit you so well, one that made ethan's eyes widen when he figured it all out.

"not for my presence, spider?" you asked, your flirtatious side coming out of you.

"your kind presence?" he tsked. "no." he said, making you roll your eyes. but he saw that rare, downturned smile that tugged at your lips.

it was you. it had been you the entire time.

and you saw the slow realization dawn over his face. the way his face paled, the way his chopsticks fell into the takeout box. the way he breathed, "you," as he stared. he finally figured it all out.

"i have to go," were the first words that fell from your mouth right as the movie began. you ignored the protests from the others as you carefully moved past them, grabbing your coat from the hook near the door.

"nightmare on elm street was about to start!" mindy protested behind you.

"y/n," ethan said, hurriedly putting his takeout on the side table. he would've nearly dropped it if it weren't for his quick reflexes, catching the box before it could drop. and spill. further. but when he looked back at the door, the door was already shutting.

the cold air hit you harshly as you walked out of the dorm building. the starless sky only held the moon as it shone down onto you, joining the street lamps as you walked down the pavement trail. hugging your leather jacket around you, your steps were quick as you made your way to your car, heart beating quickly in your ears.

"y/n!"

ethan's voice called after you, making your blood run cold. "go away," you snapped, ignoring the hoarseness of your voice as you tried to keep walking away. but he was quick to follow.

"just talk to me—"

"talk to you?" that made you turn around and look at him, an incredulous look on your face. "after all the shit you told me? after what you said?"

"you didn't deny any of it, did you?" ethan retorted, hurt and guilt flashing in his eyes. "when i asked you if you were starting to care, you said nothing." his eyes looked over your face. "i asked you to say you weren't just using me and you said nothing. you couldn't even deny it—"

"why does it matter?" you laughed in disbelief. "why do you care so much? you said it before, right? i'm the criminal? you're the hero?" you demanded, jabbing a finger to his chest.

ethan's jaw clenched in frustration as he looked at you, feeling every jab of your finger. "i didn't want you to just see me as some way to get away from the police—"

"then how do you want me to see you, ethan?" you bit back.

"as someone you can fucking care for, y/n!" he snapped. "as someone you can trust! as someone beyond just a guy you made a deal with!" his confession rang in the air, his chest heaving at his outburst. ethan's gaze was hard as he stared at you. "i wanted you," he breathed out, "to care for me as much as i was starting to care for you."

your cold gazed faltered for a moment at that. ethan was searching your eyes for something, for any sign of care, but as soon as he saw it, it disappeared.

you only had yourself. you only had yourself. he did not deserve to have someone like you.

he deserved better.

"most of the mafias knew nothing about the killer. some even admired him." you avoided his gaze, turning slightly away from him. "i'll go with the group to the theatre tomorrow, and after that, that's it. my part of the deal is done." you tried to walk away from him, but his hand took your wrist, stopping you.

you turned to look at him, eyes shining with the possibility of tears. the once lighthearted eyes of his had lost all the spark in them as he looked at you. studying you like you studied your favorite paintings. taking in your every feature, your every angle, your every imperfection. "do you really not care about me?" the question came out as a breath, his heart beating loudly in his chest as you looked at him.

you could feel tears threatening to feel. your nerves were going haywire from the argument, but also because of the fear you felt. the fear of caring for someone so much.

how could he care for you as much as you cared about him?

you shook your head. ethan's heart broke.

ACT V, EPILOGUE

#AUTHOR'S NOTE— sorry again for the fact that i had to split the last part into two parts. there's still the next part left & the epilogue!

#TAGLIST— @ethanlvndry , @iloveneilperry , @starsfilm , @goosenoggin , @aminatic , @wenvierismycomfort , @l5byrinth , @wroetoslut , @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @oliviapopewannabe , @wzrlds , @raggedyoldwitch , @hotweeb , @marsyay78 , @valenftcrush , @bonkyandsteeb3000 , @bubs-world , @danis-stuff-is-here , @nuhteyam , @ravenstrueluv , @taeversity , @heartipods , @gcidrvsh , @theapulidooo , @volturi-girl-imagines , @duolingofanaccount , @buorke , @grxcisxhy-wp , @strangerdangerwrites , @mrslandryy , @michaelangdonsslut

[number1mingyustan]

Habit (part iv.) —k.sy

GIF by chogiwapadada

fuckboy!hoshi x fem!reader

Genre: fwb au, college au, fuckboy au, angst, smut

Warnings: cursing, kissing, marking, fingering (f.), multiple orgasms, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie, so much el oh vee ee

Word Count: 4.2k

part i. part ii. part iii.

_______________________________________________

(a/n: i really thought i was going to have this done yesterday, but i didn’t and i lowkey think it’s kinda rushed so i may go back and edit it a bit)

Kwon Soonyoung was a giver. He gave and he gave and he gave, but it wasn't always enough. He put his best foot forward in everything he did. Whether it was someone or something he was interested in, he put so much effort into it.

It was odd though because he gave so much until he'd reach a wall that he put up himself. He couldn't quite verbalize why he is the way he is and it frustrated him.

When Soonyoung danced, he put his all into it. He was light on his feet and never missed a beat. His movement was sharp yet fluid and graceful. It didn't matter how difficult the choreo was or how familiar he was with the dance style, he was going to do the best he could.

He didn't start to feel insecure about his dancing until he graduated. It was always something he loved and made him feel free. He realized he wanted to take it seriously, but there was a wall in his way.

While he managed to convince his parents to support him, he felt obligated to do better. Every move he made needed to be perfect or it wasn't good enough. If it wasn't good enough for them, it wasn't good enough for him.

And then there was you.

Fuck.

Never had he experienced anything like the relationship the two of you had before. He'd done the friends-with-benefits thing before, plenty of times. But with you, it was different. Once your friendship shifted to something more, you were enough for him.

He hadn't slept with anyone besides you. He didn't see the point of entertaining other girls when he had you. He was always big on aftercare, but spending all that money to door dash a meal? You were the only girl he'd spend nearly 50 bucks for just because you wanted a burger. He played board games with you and watched movies after sex. He spent so much time with you and started to grow attached.

He’d spend hours and hours with you, and he loved it. But your time together was always cut short at the end of the night.

It was a habit he couldn't quite bring himself to break.

He really wanted to, but he couldn't. Spending the night made it all feel too real. He'd said at the beginning that your relationship would be a 'no feelings' thing, and to him spending the night felt like he was admitting he broke that rule.

Soonyoung had a lot of bad habits. He slept around a lot, he ignored his emotions, he doubted himself often, and he rarely communicated anything deeper than surface level.

They weren’t all bad though, he had his good habits too. He knew when to prioritize his studies, he danced to deal with his stress, it was an outlet for him to acknowledge and deal with anything on his heart or mind. When he cared about people, he cared a lot, almost too much to the point where it might have been one of his bad habits.

But his best habit of all, well that had to be you. Aside from the mind blowing sex, you brought out a good side in him. He wasn’t a bad person by any means, but he was a whole lot better when he was with you.

And for him, these past few weeks have been like hell without you.

___________

To say you've been living your best life for these past few weeks would be anything but the truth. You've spent the majority of your time with your head buried in your books.

You've started to prioritize your academics and almost completely isolated yourself. Nai's been trying to get you to go out more, but you refuse.

You go to class, the library, and to bed. It wouldn't be such a bad thing for you to prioritize your academics, however, you haven't been yourself lately. School and studying have become something you've done to kill time, not because your academic life has been in any sort of trouble.

And it serves as a great distraction.

Economics projects aren't as fun when you work alone. Yeah, the grade is good because all you seem to do now is homework, but it wasn't like your grades were bad before anyway.

Nai worried about you, but she understood you were hurting and healing. She gave you the space you needed, but also the comfort.

So much so that she managed to convince you to go out to a party tonight. She promised to stay by your side as long as you wanted company and assured you a social setting would be good,

You resisted of course but soon came to realize she was right. You couldn't just mope around for the rest of your life over something that could have been. You're far from ready to put yourself back out there romantically, but a party couldn't hurt all that much, right?

__

The house is loud and overcrowded, as expected. Nai pulls you through the crowd of people toward the kitchen. Pushing past sweaty bodies with loud music blasting your ears was not really what you needed. And of course, by the time you actually make it to the kitchen, there's no more alcohol left.

Nai sighs, "Damn it."

"I'm going home," you tell her.

She holds onto you by your arm. "No! You need to get out of our room, I'm not going to let you rot in there any longer. This is for your own good Y/n."

You roll your eyes. "There's nothing to drink, it's loud as hell, and this house is beyond overcrowded. I'm taking an uber back to our dorm."

Nai doesn't let you go. "And do what? Sleep? At 10 pm? Study? You don't have any exams coming up. I know things are fucked up because of Soonyoung, but we're still young! I'm not going to let you rot away before we turn 21."

You sigh.

"I'm sure there's someone here you can talk to," Nai offers.

"I don't really want to talk to anyone Nai," you frown.

She stares are you silently. She's thinking, contemplating whether or not she should say something to do. "Fine, let's just have fun on our own."

__

If your night out wasn't already bad enough, you ended up completely third wheeling. You appreciate Nai for keeping her promise about staying by your side, you really do. But when she's also spending every moment with Seokmin as well, it's not as much fun for you.

She's trying to include you in their conversation, but it's forced. You get along with Seokmin, and you've become good friends as well, but you feel somewhat like a burden.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you excuse yourself. "I'll be back."

Instead of going to the bathroom, you decide to make your way outside. In the backyard, it's relatively quiet. You slide the door closed behind you and walk over to one of the plastic chairs bordering the pool.

There’s a couple leaning against the side of the house making out, but you pay them no mind. Nai was right about how you needed to get out of the house, it’s nice, but you’d rather be alone while doing it.

For the first time in weeks, your mind is clear. It's a little chilly outside, but nothing you couldn't handle. You bask in the outside air. The stars are shining bright above you in the night sky. You admire the world around you, not a single thought in your head.

No school, no Soonyoung, nothing.

What's only a few short moments of bliss feels like an eternity until the sliding of the door catches your attention. You turn your head to the side.

Oh.

Soonyoung.

Your heart drops, then starts beating rapidly. Fuck, he’s actually here standing in front of you. You should've known he'd be here. Just because you didn't see him with Seokmin you shouldn't have assumed he wasn't there, he never missed a party.

Your heart is beating out of your chest so loud, you fear he can actually hear it. You're happy to see him as much as you don't want to admit it. You've missed him so much even after everything that went down.

“Shorty?” he asks.

The familiar nickname brings butterflies to your stomach. He knows you said to stop calling you that, but it’s just what you are to him. Call it muscle memory, call it love, but you’ll always be Shorty to him.

“Soonyoung,” you breathe out.

He scratches the back of his head nervously. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll go back inside, I didn’t know you were out here. I just wanted some fresh air but I- I’ll just go.”

Don’t.

Stay. Please.

“You don’t have to,” you tell him simply. “I kind of wanted to talk to you anyway.”

You swear something lights up in his eyes. A flash of hope and excitement. You don't know where your sudden confidence stems from, but all you know is that you missed him and now he's here in front of you.

“Really?” he questions.

You nod. “Yeah, I think a conversation between us is long overdo. Can we leave though? I’d rather talk somewhere else.”

Soonyoung is trying so hard to contain his excitement. You really want to talk to him. He doesn’t even care if you’re about to tell him you never want to see him again, he’s just so happy to see you.

His Shorty.

He contemplated not showing up to this party and now he couldn’t be happier that he did. Whether you’re giving him another chance or not, he’s going to do his best not to screw it up. You mean too much to him not to put in his effort.

"Do you want to come back to my dorm?"

For the first time ever, Soonyoung has actually invited you back to his dorm. His home, where he can’t be the one to leave you if shit happens.

“Yeah.”

__

The walk to his dorm is a quiet one, but thankfully quick. He walks slightly ahead of you, although he can't stop himself from turning back every couple of minutes. He has to remind himself you're really there.

He leads you up to the third floor and into his room.

"Did you want anything to drink? There's water and soda in the fridge." he offers.

"No thanks, I'm good," you say quietly. You're standing in the middle of the room looking around curiously. He's realizing, you've never actually been here before. He feels a bit guilty, you seeing his dorm is long overdue.

"You can sit down y'know," he says.

You nod, taking off your shoes and making yourself comfortable on his bed. You hold your knees up to your chest with your arms wrapped around your legs securely. Your back is against the gray wall behind his bed.

He sits on his bed, leaning against the wall as well. He's sure to leave plenty of space between you two. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. He wants to be careful, can't risk messing things up between you more.

"Can you talk to me now? Honestly?" he starts.

You sigh. There's a bit of silence as he stares at you. He can tell you're trying to gather your thoughts and find a way to tell him what you want to say.

"You said that you and I were going to be a 'no feelings thing.' And at first, I was okay with it, but the more time I spent with you, I started to realize that wasn't really the case anymore. And I got scared you were just going to end things with me because I caught feelings."

He's shocked, yet relieved at your sudden confession. He digs his nails into the palm on his hand to stop himself from saying something about your confession.

"What made you think I would do that to you?" he questions.

"Everything, Soonyoung," you breathe out. "You told me about your ex and how much she hurt you. And since then, you've been good at the whole sex with no strings thing. I had no reason to believe you felt the same way that I did about you. I wanted to have a relationship with you and be your girl, and for fuck's sake have you spend the night every once in a while. What else was I supposed to think when you couldn't even spend the night?"

He bites the inside of his cheek.

"You can't just decide that for me though," he sighs. "I understand why you assumed and you're probably right, I might not be fully ready for a relationship yet. But I have to be the one to decide that. You can't just jump to those kinds of conclusions and then completely leave me hanging. I had no idea what was going on in your head and I was willing to listen to you."

"I know it was wrong of me not to communicate with you, but you have to understand how much doubt I had. I mean, how else was I supposed to feel when you mention another girl's name right after you fuck me raw?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The first time we did it raw... that was a new level of intimacy I don't think I'd be willing to share with anyone else. Maybe it was just me, but it felt different and like, special. But then got to the shower..."

"We washed each other's hair."

"Yeah, and when I was washing yours... and told you I liked the blonde. What did you say?"

Shit.

"Shit," he runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Shorty. I wasn't thinking, honest. I didn't think about how that was gonna affect you. "

"That's why I started to doubt everything so much, because it felt like you were never going to think about my feelings. It was more than just the comment too... It was you and Leina upstairs at the party.... and you and Akari at another party after you and I..."

"I know how it may have looked to you, but nothing happened. Both of them are just friends to me, honestly. I'm not sleeping with either of them anymore, I haven't slept with anyone besides you since that day I bailed on you for Econ."

"Seriously?" you ask in disbelief.

He nods. "I swear, I haven't touched anyone else. Haven't even really looked in another girl's direction."

He can tell you're shocked by his words. All this time you thought he was still sleeping around. All this time you hadn't the slightest idea how much he prioritized you.

"I'm sorry," your voice rasps. "I shouldn't have assumed you were still sleeping around. And I shouldn't have assumed your feelings either, it was wrong of me. I had no right to decide for you– I was just trying to protect myself and my own feelings."

He pouts. "I know you were Shorty, but I wanted the same thing as you. Of course, I wanted you to be my girl, why else do you think I wanted you at my show so bad? Wanted you to see me dance and tell me I looked good."

His comment makes you smile.

"I'm sorry too... for making you doubt me and everything," he looks down at his lap, twiddling his thumbs. " I should've considered your feelings more if I wanted to show you how much you mattered. And I've still got some stuff to work on as far as relationships and communication... but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and have some patience. Because I really do want to get better, work on all of that stuff for you. Make sure I can treat you right and give you everything."

He looks back up at you, meeting your glossy eyes with his. Oh no, he made you cry.He knows it’s not because you’re upset with him but still… she doesn’t want to see you cry. He vows in his head at that moment to never lay it happen again.

Wordlessly, he wraps his arms around your frame. You turn into jello, melting into his touch as he embraces you with love. You feel so warm, inside and out.

“I wanna get better at communication too,” you sniffle. “And being honest about how I feel to make this work with you. I think we both of stuff we need to work on, and I’m more than willing to work through it with you.”

He lets out a breath of relief over your shoulder. He's so fucking happy right now. His heart's content, filled to the brim with joy. He'd got you where he wants you. He knows it'll require great effort to avoid repeating history, but he couldn't be happier that he's doing it with you.

"Shorty,"

"Soonyoung."

"Hoshi."

"Hoshi?"

"Hoshi."

He likes it a whole lot better when you say it. He freaked out the first time because it was a sore subject, nickname his ex used to call him. He freaked out because he loved the way you said it, how you moaned it when you came around his cock. It scared him how much he wanted to hear you say it over and over again.

He tucks your hair behind your ear. He looks into your eyes longingly, eye contact never faltering. Butterflies fill your stomach and you begin to feel hot beneath his gaze.

His excitement gets the best of him and he breaks the longing tension in the room. He cups your cheek and presses his lips against yours. You react immediately, kissing him back tenderly and his thumb draws circles on your cheek.

He loves kissing you. You melt into his touch so easily, so naturally. He can never get enough of you.

"Is this okay?" he asks against your lips.

You hardly break the kiss. "More than okay."

Your bodies fall into the bed, tongues dancing with one another as fingertips trace skin. You get lost in him so easily. He's so addictive, you can't stop kissing him.

His kisses grow feverish and heated as his hands continue to roam your skin. Your shirt rides up and he takes full advantage of it. He can't keep his hands off of you, touching every inch of your exposed skin.

You make it easier for him, momentarily breaking the kiss to peel your shirt off your body. His lips find your neck and he's quick to leave marks. He sucks along your skin, marking you as his for everyone to see.

He pulls away, looking down at you with a smile as he admires his work. He's interrupted by you suddenly tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

"Shorty," he warns.

"Please Hoshi," you whine.

Fuck. He's a goner.

"You sure you want to? It's not too soon?" he asks.

You shake your head. "Look at you communicating," you smirk. "Don't worry, I'm good if you are. It'll be just like before for now," you assure him.

He nibbles on his bottom lip. You two still aren't official, so it will be a lot like how things were before just you know... better. And who was Kwon Soonyoung to turn you down?

He gives in, allowing you to continue tugging at his jeans. You're smiling like a schoolgirl right now, hands fumbling with his zipper. You free him of his jeans, exposing his already hard cock poking through his underwear.

You've hardly touched him and he's already losing it. Only you can do this to him.

He dips his head back down, capturing your lips in another heated kiss. His hands play with the buttons of your jeans before he slides them off your body. He breaks this kiss briefly to slide his shirt off.

You continue stripping one another bare, lips finding one another quickly every time the kiss is broken. You've reached an entirely new level of intimacy with him. You feel closer than ever and you never want to let go of this feeling.

He touches you with great care, fingertips circling your clit as you squirm beneath him. His head is buried in the crook of your neck as his fingers pleasure you delicately.

You're moaning and panting right into his ear, only fueling him to go faster. He pumps his fingers inside of you, simultaneously rubbing against your sensitive bud. You're falling apart around his fingers within a matter of minutes.

He coaxes you through your first orgasm of the night, filling your ears with the sweet words about how good you're doing for him and how beautiful you are.

He waits for you to fully come down before peppering kisses along your forehead and cheeks. He kisses away the tears staining your cheeks, " 'S okay Shorty."

You assure him that you're fine and he moves to pull out a condom from the pocket of his jeans. You stop him, telling him you'd rather take him raw. He's absolutely losing his mind over you.

He aligns his cock with your soaked entrance, coating his length with your arousal. Your body jolts every time he runs his length along your sensitive clit, leaving you grinding against him desperately.

He finally stops teasing and slides his length into you with ease. Your arms immediately wrap around his frame, nails sinking into his broad shoulder and toned back.

"Fuck," he moans.

He pushes his hips into your slowly, sure to fill you up with the entirety of his length. You wrap your legs around his torso, forcing his cock to thrust deeper inside of you.

You moan in unison, crying out every time he bottoms out inside of you. You feel so close to him, so full and content.

Your sweaty, sticky bodies, are tangled beneath the sheets. You can feel the intimacy in every inch of your body, from your fingertips to your toes. He's not fucking you, not the way he usually does. He's making love to you, ensuring that you really feel him as he drives you into your second orgasm of the night.

He continues to fuck you slowly, relishing in how tight and warm you feel around him. He never wants to leave this place, want's to keep you in his arms forever. You feel so fucking good, cunt tightening around him as you ride out your high.

He watches you, face screwed in pleasure and head sinking into the pillows. He loves watching you fall apart, lips parted as you cry out his name. He loves the way you feel around him, how it always sends him into his own orgasm. He loves everything about you.

He loves you.

He has to stop himself from saying it when he falls apart, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You feel his cock twitch inside of you as he releases his load into you.

Once he comes down from his high, he presses another kiss onto your forehead before slowly pulling out and falling into the bed beside you.

"You okay?" he asks.

You nod, intertwining your fingers with his. " "M all good Hoshi, promise."

His heart beats faster at the sound of the nickname. He's so whipped for you, and he can only hope your heartbeat is as erratic as his right now.

Like always, he escorts you to the bathroom and showers with you. There's a comfortable quiet between the two of you, he fears things will move too fast if he opens his mouth.

The same words he's thinking are tingling on your tongue. You won't say it, it's too soon. But he knows and you know, regardless of whether or not it's said out loud.

In his room, he redresses himself and lends you some of his clothes. He smiles to himself as his eyes scan your body. You look so cute in his clothes, he wishes he could take a picture.

Oh fuck.

"Shit!" Soonyoung falls onto the bed and grabs his phone. "I didn't tell Seokmin I was leaving!"

"I didn't tell Nai either," you begin scrambling for your phone on the bed with him.

There's 4 missed calls and 16 text messages. The older messages begin with 'BITCH WHERE ARE YOU' and end with 'checked your location, nvm! glad you two made up, i'll see you tomorrow morning'

You and Soonyoung exchange looks, laughing to yourself knowing both your phone screens look similar. "They know we're together," he smiles. He drops his phone on the bed, wrapping his arms around your frame and pulling your body into his.

He envelops you in his warmth, comforting and cuddling you. You don't resist, turning into putty in his arms. Your head is pressed into his chest and you can hear his heartbeat. It's perfectly in sync with yours, completely filled with love.

"Shorty?"

"Hmm." you hum.

"Stay the night?"

You smile into his chest. "I thought you'd never ask."

_______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[barkly-523]

About Dutch van der Linde

Hello tumblr rdr space! I do not go here, but I post on tiktok sometimes and have a dear buddy of mine who ive been talking to about some posts on here!

I will post a proper introduction at a later date, but for now I would like to put my own two cents in on some stuff ive been seeing recently, about Dutch.

Dutch is an incredibly COMPLEX character, and I feel that some people really horrifically miss that point sometimes. whether it be "Oh, he bonked his head!" or "Oh, this man is a monster!" both points are on opposite ends of the spectrum, but I believe they greatly miss the overarching theme of his character and who he is, and was, as a person. To merely dismiss all of his actions by saying "oh, hes just a monster, abuser, groomer, thats why hes the way that he is" shows nothing above a surface level understanding of his character, nor the characters of the people around him and those who choose to work with him. These characters were designed to have depth, to be studied, and understood on a deeper level. Why take such a basic explanation? I am not here to say Dutch is not without flaws (because he has alot of those), but I AM here to say that calling dutch a "groomer" or some sort of "cult leader, master manipulator" is just, factually incorrect.

Firstly, with the grooming point. This is an incredibly stigmatized word nowadays, so its crazy to use in general here, but by no means were people "groomed" into being outlaws. These people had flaws of their own, took bad paths, and ended up crossing paths with Dutch. Why did they cross paths with him? Well, I went through every "how they joined the gang" story I could find, and its about a 50/50 split between they tried to rob or kill dutch, Or that they were on the run and dutch gave them a safe place to stay, with some exceptions. The odds of these people bumping into someone far worse, in all cases, are exceptional. Most of the gang were in bad places when dutch found them, and they were getting desperate. Its incredibly possible they wouldve bumped into someone who wouldve killed them instead. John was saved from being hanged. Had Dutch and Hosea not been there, he wouldve died. Arthur outright says "dutch saved me, saved most of us." and although things did not turn out right at the end of the day, to believe that dutch was nothing more than a power-hungry manipulator is shown to be incorrect in the media itself. Colm exists. Hes literally right there. An antagonist who; doesnt know the names of the men in his gang, is shown to hit Kieran, who cares more for numbers than connection. Their feud goes back YEARS, and it all seems to stem from a fatal disagreement about how things were being run. When they split paths, Dutch keeps a tight knit gang of people who he considers family, Colm continues to grow his gang in numbers. At the very start of the game, dutch makes it clear that hed prefer the gang doesnt split up, that they stick together so *he can be sure everyone is okay.* He shows sympathy for Sadies situation, and takes her in to help her. Not once is it stated shes obligated to be there, in fact, its stated that she can stay as long as she needs to, to get back on her feet. She has the final say on whether she stays in the gang or not. The reason so many people stayed in the gang until it was actively collapsing, is not because dutch was forcing them to stay. They saw him as family just as he saw them.

Its why his character arc is so interesting. Its why watching his downfall is impactful. he ISNT a bad man, he does bad things out of desperation towards the end of the game, just as other gang members did in the very beginning. Dutch had bad tendencies, but he had people there to help him stay on the right track. His beliefs were good, its why he had people who stuck with him. They believed in what he taught. He had incredibly intelligent people in his gang, I'll use Lenny and Hosea as my examples for now. Lenny was taught by his father to judge peoples character, and even if his time with the gang was short he absolutely wouldve picked up on dutchs behavior if he was hiding behind some sort of mask. and HOSEA, has been with the dude for 20 YEARS. You cannot fake something for that long, and hosea is far from stupid aswell. He is a conman by nature. If dutch was trying to con everyone, surely he wouldve noticed. Arthur still regards dutch incredibly highly for a good majority of the game. He sees the man as a mentor and is clearly deeply affected watching dutch spiral and do bad things as the game goes on. At the beginning, when told Dutch had shot a girl on the blackwater job, his first response is to say that it "doesnt sound like him". Dutch is shown to have remorse for his actions, although he chooses to rarely talk about blackwater, and avoids the subject when its brought up, he explains to hosea, with shame, that he "really messed up" in blackwater. Micah had egged dutch on (as stated by John in a camp interaction) and dutch is shown to be regretful, that job really put everything in motion, but I truly believe micahs manipulation is what changed dutch.

Micah fed into his impulsive side, and tried to reassure him when things went wrong. When Arthur was kidnapped by Colm, Micah explained that Arthur was the type to wander, and surely, theyd see him back at camp. Dutch, ONCE AGAIN, shows regret. He shouldnt have put Arthur in such a position, and knows it. Dutch has impulsive tendencies, he has paranoid thoughts. This is shown in multiple camp interactions and even stated in one of the games first journal entries about the land they were going to settle on before the ferry job. To simply blow off all the depth of his character by saying "oh, hes bad" is so,, lame? Why focus on dutch specifically to say he did all of these bad things on his own accord when micah is, right there. Dutch literally goes crawling back to him in the epilogue. Partly for revenge, since seeing arthur on the cliffside was able to briefly break him out of the funk hed been in for the last few months (albeit far too late), but also partly because I dont think he knows how to be alone. I dont think he can handle it. Hosea and Arthur had been by his side the longest, and he had to watch both of them die. Late game conversations between dutch and arthur have always been fascinating to me, and even in Guarma dutch is still set on going back to keep the gang together. Thats his family, and he cannot lose them too. He outright states he'll do whatever it takes to make sure they survive. Arthur is startled by this, as dutch has been shown to be deadly and irrational, he isnt processing things well, and cannot handle the pressure on his shoulders, and it certainly doesnt help that Micah is in his ear telling him that Arthur and John are betraying him. He clearly doesnt want to believe it, but he cannot wrap his head around hoseas death, and assumes that the only way it couldve happened was if someone ratted, completely overlooking micah.

Dutch is not a smart man, and truthfully, he should have never been in a position of power, but he is not evil. He was desperate, and he was trying to keep his family together. Although I do not agree with the "Trolley Theory" for reasons stated above, I highly doubt him bashing his head like that helped with his mental state either. Dutch is desperate. Dutch does bad things, but he is far from a bad man. He helped the people in his gang, and although the found family turned sour in the end, they mattered to him, and it mattered to the gang. Dutch, CANONICALLY, was not always "bad" either. Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea robbed a bank, took what they needed, and gave the rest to the local orphanage. Dutch scolded Arthur for robbing someone who was "too poor" and said that doing that made them just as bad as the system they were fighting against, Dutch helped Hosea get on the right track and stopped him from stealing just about anything he could get his hands on. Dutch is a man who had good ideologies, and wanted to help people in his own way, but the pressures kept adding up and it broke him. Dutch, in RDR1, is a more objectively "bad" character, But look at how they fleshed him out in rdr2. Was the cliff scene nearly as impactful before the release of rdr2? absolutely not! Playing as john, we were thrown in with a baseline knowledge of their history, and now knowing the full story makes the cliff scene quite the harrowing experience if youre able to grasp the intricacies of dutchs character, to look at him as more than "just a villain".

This turned out to be far more ranty then I wanted, but I am so tired of seeing so much mischaracterization and demonization of a character with literally days worth of content to look at and study that shows some of the points I see from people to just be blatantly wrong. Lol

[visceravalentines]

a goddamn break

that's right boys it's a saw fic from me, the clown

2.5k words. neat n tidy little character study of my favorite guys in loathe with each other. no content warnings. not explicitly coffinshipping but anything's coffinshipping if you glare at it long enough. I fucked with the timeline of saw iv to make this make sense but literally time isn't real especially in these movies. hope you like it!!

Peter Strahm tells his doctor he doesn’t smoke, and if he were hooked up to a polygraph, it would read as true.

That’s because he knows how to lie in a way that makes the words fact, at least in that moment and the one that comes after. It’s because he quit in college, cold turkey, the day after he got his diploma, and the doc doesn’t ask if he used to smoke.

It’s also because the battered pack of Camels he keeps in the pocket of his suit jacket doesn’t count. That’s for emergencies only.

Today constitutes an emergency. The last two weeks have been a goddamn emergency. Every waking moment since he set foot in the Metropolitan Police Department has been nothing but dead ends and incompetence. Today is one of a long string of days he’d rather fast-forward through to get to the good part, the part where he wins.

He’s never had a liaison turn casualty before. Detective Kerry had a good head on her shoulders, knew which way was up. She’d reached out to the FBI for help on the Jigsaw case, not the other way around. That was the mark of a good cop. One who knew when they were out of their element.

Strahm isn’t ready to admit he’s out of his element. Not yet. Because he isn’t.

He just needs a smoke.

His jacket is slumped over the back of his garbage office chair in the shitty little temporary office he shares with Perez. She clocks him rifling through the pockets, raises a sympathetic eyebrow.

“Don’t,” he warns before she can open her mouth.

She puts her hands up like she’s negotiating with a terrorist. “I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“It’s been a rough couple of weeks,” she concedes.

“Understatement.” Strahm shoves a sigh out through his nose. “I wanna talk to Jill Tuck again.”

“I know you do.”

Her tone borders on consolation. Strahm shoots her a look. “She’s the key, Perez.”

“She’s a big shiny window and you’re a bird flying at top speed,” she replies. “There are other avenues.”

Strahm shakes his head, taps the pack of Camels against his palm. “I wanna talk to her again.”

Perez rolls her eyes, mutters a curse, and he feels a surge of pride. He's rubbing off on her. “I’ll bring her in.”

“Has forensics pulled their heads out of their collective asses yet, or is that too much to ask for in this shithole precinct?”

Perez smiles beatifically. “I’d rather not answer that.”

Strahm makes a sound like a shoe in a dryer. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“Take fifteen.”

He grumbles something unintelligible even to himself and stalks out.

There’s a door to the alleyway near the men’s room. Strahm knows this because the two aren’t clearly labeled and he’s gone through the wrong one twice. As he turns down the hall he sees that someone has propped open the external door with a rock to keep it from locking behind them, probably some other idiot chipping away at their respiratory health.

He almost reconsiders, almost turns around to find his way to the front of the building. But that’s stupid. He can stomach five minutes five feet away from another person.

Strahm pushes his way through the door, descends the stairs to his left, rounds the banister to the right, and stops cold.

Hoffman turns that dead-eyed stare on him, blows a lungful of smoke through those Hollywood housewife lips. “Agent Strahm,” he says in a monotone that conveys the most mild surprise conceivable.

Strahm considers walking back in the building for five whole seconds. He has no qualms with casual incivility. But he sees Hoffman doing the same math, catches the twitch of a smirk that may as well be a gauntlet thrown at his feet.

Peter Strahm is many things, but never a coward.

He slouches over begrudgingly, finds a section of wall, gives Hoffman a noncommittal grimace and dares to hope, just for a moment. It would be possible for this interaction to pass in silence, incredibly possible. Painless, even.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” Hoffman remarks, and Strahm grinds his teeth.

“I don’t.” He digs in his pocket for his ancient Bic lighter. He picked it up at a gas station in St. Louis years ago, never saw the need for an upgrade. Bic makes quality products.

Hoffman takes a drag, watches him pull a cigarette from the pack. “My mistake,” he says in the back of his throat. Smoke wafts loose from his mouth.

Strahm strikes the lighter once, twice, thrice. It sparks, but no flame except a flash of white-hot irritation.

He pictures Perez telling him to picture a beach.

He strikes it six more times even though he knows it’s not going to work, tries to count to ten in his head and fizzles out around four, remembers now the last time he lit up in Baltimore and thought to himself I better fill ‘er up.

He did not, of course, do that. Unfortunately.

Strahm straightens his head and looks hard at the brick wall across the alley and waits for it. He can feel Hoffman savoring the moment, knows exactly the sanctimonious look that’s plastered on the detective’s smug fucking face.

If he makes him ask for it, on his sainted mother’s grave, Strahm will shoot him.

Hoffman exhales serenely. “Need a light?”

Somehow that is worse.

Strahm keeps the cigarette pressed between his lips and his eyes straight ahead and holds out his hand to the right. He’ll be goddamned if he lets Hoffman light it for him. He feels the brush of the detective’s fingers on his palm and the familiar weight of a Zippo, uncomfortably warm from Hoffman's pocket.

When he flips it open he sees an engraving, worn down by what appears to be the frequent back-and-forth rub of a thumb across the letters. Saint Mark. He doesn't want to know.

Strahm lights up and hands the Zippo back to Hoffman like it might carry some disease. He fills his lungs with a bittersweet buzz and lets his head drop back, blows smoke to the sky. “Thanks,” he mutters.

“Anything to help the FBI,” Hoffman replies, and Strahm really can’t tell whether or not he’s trying to be more punchable than he already is.

He inhales again and holds it as long as he can. Enough time has passed since the last time he smoked that it goes right to his head, makes his brain hum behind his eyes. He feels better immediately. The smell always whisks him back to his undergrad days, to the stairwell outside the campus library where he used to take study breaks. Cold night, dark clouds, sodium street lamps. A certainty about himself and the future. A support structure. Simpler times.

“Made any progress with Jill Tuck?”

His pleasant memory gets shredded like paper through Hoffman's weird little teeth and he’s back in an alleyway that reeks of trash and vice, stomach acid creeping up his esophagus. Strahm taps his finger, watches flecks of ash spiral down and disappear near his shoe. “What do you think?”

Hoffman takes a thoughtful drag like he’s never heard of a rhetorical question. “She's a deeply troubled woman.”

“Great insight,” Strahm snaps, “really valuable stuff there, detective. Why am I even here?”

“I just figured with your expertise, you might be more successful than me.” Hoffman wears a look of such mock deference Strahm wants to gag. “I'm sure whatever training you get at the FBI is unmatched.”

“Don’t give me that shit.” Strahm doesn't want to play this game, not in this city, not this time. “Look, I know you don't want me here. I know I stepped on your toes at Detective Kerry’s crime scene. That's my job. I come in and stomp around until something shakes loose.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly. Please don't mistake me for someone who intends to make your role in this harder than it needs to be.”

There's something besides cigarette smoke behind the words, something weighty. Something that gets Strahm to look directly at the detective for the first time.

Hoffman looks back, unblinking, and Strahm thinks of a shark behind glass. He thinks about perspective and how an object seems motionless when it's coming straight at you. He thinks all this too fast to parse meaning, but his instincts are good, have always been good, and the hair on the back of his neck wants to stand up.

“I think you’re a good cop, Hoffman,” he says carefully. He’s swimming slow back to shore. “I think your department has been sacrificed on the altar of obsession one by one and you’re still here.” No splash, no wake. “Whatever else that means, it means you’re smart.”

Hoffman blows smoke and gives Strahm a look of gratitude so patronizing it makes his skin crawl. “I appreciate that, Agent Strahm. The past several months have been…taxing.”

The past several minutes have been taxing, but Strahm keeps that to himself. He can't shake the feeling that something big just passed him beneath the surface, barely missed him.

“What’s your instinct?” Hoffman asks. “How much do you think Jill knows?”

Strahm scoffs. “Plenty. Enough to write a trashy memoir and disappear from the public eye if she really wanted to. But she hasn't. Why?”

“Because she's involved. Anything she says could incriminate her.”

“No shit.” Strahm sucks on smoke. “And no offense, detective, but I've seen those interrogation tapes. You're too fucking soft on her. You want juice, you gotta squeeze.”

“With all due respect, I'd like to see you try.”

Strahm bristles, shoots him a glare. “Is that a fucking challenge? You think I'm gonna meet my match in Jill fucking Tuck?”

“You misunderstand me, Agent Strahm.” Those eyes glitter with something like mirth. “I mean I truly would like to see you try. Jill Tuck has been a hurdle since the start of all this. Like it or not, we're all players in this game. It's about time she gets pulled off the sidelines.”

Strahm examines him with interest. “You make it sound personal.”

Hoffman breaks eye contact, settles his gaze on some invisible point down the alley. A look of remorse slides over his face like a shadow over the sun. “At this point, how could it not be?”

Whatever else might be going on here, even Strahm has to concede that’s a reasonable response. His mind conjures up memories of closed-casket funerals past and he thinks of his colleagues back at the home office. He thinks of Perez. He clenches his jaw, remembers he’s supposed to be relaxing, takes a hard drag and is rewarded with a wave of nausea.

Hoffman is talking again. “Have you had a chance to look through the case files for the last three Jigsaw games? I think there were ten victims total. If you're right and John Kramer's health has kept him from hands-on involvement, maybe there might be something we missed, something–”

Strahm holds up a hand and exhales around his teeth. “Can we not do this? I just–I need a break from this Jigsaw bullshit. For like thirty seconds.”

“Sure thing,” Hoffman says amicably. He stubs his cigarette out on the wall, leans back against the brick, purses his lips. For a few blessed seconds Strahm thinks he might let the silence stand, or even better–leave. But then: “Got any plans this weekend?”

Strahm pounds his closed fist back against the wall with a little more force than he means to, closes his eyes, chews on a sigh. “No,” he says loudly with what he hopes is sufficient finality.

“Do you fish?”

“Do I what?”

“Fish. Go fishing?”

Strahm groans. “No, detective, no, I don’t fish. I spend enough time sitting waiting for lower life forms to take the bait in my professional life, thank you very much.”

Hoffman lets out what might be a laugh. “Fair enough. You strike me as more of a hunter anyway.”

“Never been,” Strahm says dismissively. This is a lie. He knows the woods of rural Vermont blind. The first time he shot a gun he was seven and the kick knocked him flat on his ass.

“I like to fish. Head down south when I can find the time. You ever been to Bass River?”

Strahm grunts, gives up, slumps against the wall mirroring Hoffman’s posture. “No.”

“Beautiful country. When this is all over, you and Special Agent Perez oughta make the drive down. Worth the detour.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Where are you and Perez staying in town? Maybe I can make some local recommendations, help you make the best of your time here.”

Alarm bells again. Something in the water. Something coming at him. “I don’t know,” Strahm deflects, “some place downtown. Old as fuck. No water pressure.”

Hoffman chuckles. “Sounds like my last apartment.”

“Yeah, you guys have a real issue with property values up here.” Strahm examines his cigarette, figures he can get one more pull off it. “Have you considered razing all the abandoned buildings so Jigsaw runs out of chessboards?”

Something like a smile twists Hoffman’s lips. “Arson, special agent?”

Strahm flicks his filter across the alley. “Whatever works.”

“Litter, too,” Hoffman observes.

Strahm rolls his eyes so hard his neck kinks. “This has been fun, but I’d better start combing through the four thousand page report your medical examiner handed me this morning. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” He stands up straight, winces at the tweak in his back, stretches his arms behind him.

“See you around,” Hoffman says.

Strahm makes it halfway up the stairs to the landing before Hoffman calls after him. He almost ignores him, thinks better of it. Gritting his teeth, he leans over the railing. “Yes, detective?”

Hoffman regards him coolly, his gaze like a blunt steel blade. “I'm sure it goes without saying, but…be careful who you trust. If there is an accomplice, we ought to proceed with caution.”

Strahm resists the urge to sneer. “No disrespect to your department, but I’m here because I’m competent. Some chemo-addled freak and his band of misfit toys? I’m not exactly shaking in my boots.”

He could swear Hoffman smiles, just for a second. A flash of teeth that doesn’t reach the eyes. “I understand. It’s just I would hate to see you…how did you say it?” He bites his lip thoughtfully. “Sacrificed.”

Strahm decides, once and for all, that Mark Hoffman is spooky.

“I appreciate your concern.”

He flings the door open and ducks inside without waiting for a reply.

For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Strahm submerges himself in the cold, clinical mire of half a dozen autopsy reports. In the back of his mind, behind the descriptions of catastrophic injury inflicted on the human body, he is elbow-deep in a dissection of his own.

He replays the conversation in his head again and again like a microcassette tape, trying to pinpoint the moment when Hoffman shifted in his estimation. He tries to reconcile fact and gut feeling and is left wanting from every angle. The thing about fishing–you only ever see what takes the bait. What passes it by lives on unknown.

All the while, from the time he shuts himself in his office to the moment his head hits the hotel pillow, Strahm tries to shake the feeling he's being watched.

He doesn't succeed.

[majesticwren]

this took me weeks to complete. I am now exhausted. don't come at me, it might be poorly executed. it is 10k of plotless, self-indulging, poly smut and I am not ashamed, thank you, bye. it is a stand-alone one-shot for now but there might be more coming, I am not done with Fletch and Will at the moment I'm afraid. I'm unhinged. edit: it now has a part II and a part III a/n: hi :) me again back at it. I didn't like the first draft of this so I finally went back in and made it a little extra poly/gay with some more chemistry between kyle and will because I needed it. thank you bye 💕

Trigger Warning/s: threesome, smut, poly, unprotected sex (kids, don't follow the fics exaples), everyone is a little bit top and a little bit bottom, a whole lot of consent, chocking, swearing, everyone has a praise kink :)

part II -> | part III -> prequel part I -> | part II -> | part III -> | part IV -> Masterlist

The apartment was now quiet save it for some still playing background music and some low chattering of the last remaining people. The party just ended was to be considered a success, but it had finally died out. However, none of the three remaining seemed to be overly worried about the time or the tidying up just yet.

“One of you should be dancing with me,” Erika teased, only pretending not to be paying any attention to the two boys sitting on the floor just a few feet from her.

“Why?” Kyle stretched his long arms across the edge of the sofa he was leaning on, “The view is so much better from here.” The way he looked at her, with his chin slightly raised, lips bent in a satisfied smile and pale eyes twinkling with a not-so-hidden desire somehow reminded her of something forbidden. A shiver crossed her spine, only prompting Kyle to wink at her. 

That’s how it had been between them forever. Endless flirting. Endless teasing. The way she felt for him always made her feel like she could do anything. He was her home. For him she would have fought the world, heck she would have broken it in half if needed. It was a strong feeling nesting into her chest and stomach, always feeding her with extreme confidence.

“And what about you?” She wondered as her eyes slid on the man sprawled on the carpet next to Kyle. 

His head rested on the sofa as he lazily looked at her. A small, confident but dumb smile crossed his lips. He didn’t seem at all bothered to be looking with interest at someone else’s woman. On the contrary, she would have bet he was intrigued. She dared a cheeky smile, hoping it would be enough to fish his interest. 

“Yeah, Billy,” Kyle started, leaning closer to him, though none of the two lifted their eyes from her, which prompted her to keep dancing under their eyes. “What do you think, mate?”

“I think she is gorgeous, bruv.” Will raised his bottle of beer first to her and then to Kyle, who clinked his bottle with it. “And she knows it all too well,” They both chuckled.

“If you are both so smitten by me, why am I all alone here?”  

Both the guys smiled widely, but it was Kyle who pushed himself forward. “Why don’t you come chill here with us instead?” He even offered her a helping hand.

As soon as he got a hold of her, Kyle pulled her down on his lap. 

The moment she realised she may have just fallen into his carefully woven trap was too late. She thought she was the one trying to tempt and tease them, but she was wrong. She wasn’t the only one fishing, clearly. And now she was in the wolves’ den. Not that she had anything against it, of course.

“You think you are so smart, Fletch?” She wondered crossing her fingers behind his neck and hanging off his shoulders.

His smile grew cocky. “I got you, don’t I?”

“That you do.” She bit her lower lip trying to hide a smile as she grabbed his bottle of beer off his hand, stealing a sip. 

With his now free hands, Kyle loosely wrapped an arm around her waist and with the other he fixed a strand of her hair behind her ear, studying her features with the sweetest look.

Sometimes Erika found herself so used to being by his side she would be immune to his prettiness. Other times his charm hit her so violently it made her stupid. And feral. Somehow, it made her want to smother and bite him. Not violently. Only to nibble on his cheeks, down his jawline, following his neck.

Her mouth was watering.

They looked into each other's eyes for a long couple of seconds. No words needed to be said to express the feelings connecting them. Erika was an open book to him, and Kyle had accepted for a long time to share his heart with her. Sometimes they pretended it didn't matter. Erika was used to replying “whatever” anytime he said he loved her. They brushed their love off like it was a joke. But they both knew it was endgame.

Will, next to them, finished up his beer in one single gulp and then he moved. “Right,” he began, “I better be on my way. Thanks for the party, bruv,” Will landed a heavy hand on Kyle's shoulder, giving him a strong shake, though his attention slipped on Erika, “You lucky bastard.”

His deep hoarse voice and thick British accent brushed on her skin. She felt it just as she felt his eyes burning on her. And she did nothing to stop it.

She liked Will. Always had.

He had been a good friend to her, but especially to Kyle and her brother Mark. Effectively, Will had led them through their leap into pro wrestling and she would have always been grateful to him for making the dream of the two people she cared about the most in the world become reality.

But now it wasn't only polite gratefulness or kindness that pulled her towards him anymore. She wanted his attention. There had been some harmless flirting between Kyle, her and Will for some time now. And it just made her hungrier and hungrier for something she never had before. A real craving she felt in her stomach and under her skin for something prohibited and so damn sweet.

She turned over facing Will, still hanging onto Kyle. Her smile was a tempting curve that only grew when she stole the glance Will was sending at Kyle’s lips. “Why are you leaving so early?” She wondered, purring softly, “We aren't done.” 

“You two might not be-”

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Erika wined, cutting through his words, “Stay a little longer. Do it for me,” she then poked Kyle’s chin, “Kyle gets so upset when you aren’t around. Don’t you baby?”

Will smiled softly, his unfocused eyes jumping from one to the other. “God,” a chuckle cut through his breath, “how do you manage to ever contradict her?”

“I never do.” Explained Kyle simply, “She gets everything she wants.”

“I bet she does,” 

“And I do get upset when you aren’t around,” now it was Kyle who was purring, sending Will a just as tempting look. His free hand dared to venture on Will’s knee as the Aussie synched with Erika’s intentions without needing her to speak a word.

Will held his breath, looking dazed for a moment as he looked at Kyle. However, his hesitation quickly melted away, leaving space for a warmer curiosity.

Will’s mile widened from amused to teasing. “And what do you suggest we do then, loves?” His attention lazily dragged back to Erika.

She had a few ideas in mind. A cheeky smile popped on her face, making her blushing cheeks pop.

“Well,” Erika played with Kyle’s shirt collar, pretending to be distracted and not at all with an end goal to reach. “We could play truth or dare.”

“What, like bloody teenagers?”

She nodded hopefully, “Yeah. It’s still fun.”

Both Will and Kyle exchanged a quick look. There was a silent interaction between the two, to which Kyle simply shrugged, prompting Will to chuckle. “Why don’t you just ask me something you want to know?” He wondered looking back at her. “Or tell me something you’d like me to do. To you or to Kyle.”

The way he looked at her made her stomach tremble even more than his words. 

“Ok,” Erika exchanged a quick complicit look with Kyle, before turning to Will once again, this time she dared to slide a hand on his leg, just above where Kyle rested his. “Do you like me, Will?” Her smile was now a weapon. Erika brushed her hand on Will’s strong thigh and would have stopped anytime if he had hinted at her to do so. But he didn't. 

If her words hadn't been clear, the dark desire sparkling in her eyes should have been hint enough. Will awkwardly hesitated turning over to Kyle. 

In response, Kyle shrugged, “Don't look at me, mate. She asked you a question.” He had a cocky, proud smile printed on his lips as he directed Will’s attention back to her.

Kyle was always her partner in crime. That was what he had signed up for. She was a wild card, always been since the day they met. There was no stopping her when she put her head on something. And he was always ready to support her. No need to keep secrets from him. No need to lie. She had her fill and learned her lesson when she almost lost him for good at the beginning of their relationship and then promised “never again”. And had never once let her down. Kyle was always in her corner, willing to give her anything she wanted. And now they were both looking at what she wanted. What they both wanted. 

“C’mon mate, don't leave the lady hanging,” Kyle continued.

Will’s eyes fell on their hands on his leg first and then he finally seemed to gather enough courage to look back at her. “I do,” a small smile finally broke on his lips. He hadn’t entirely defrosted yet, but he was surely game.

“And,” she gently propped Kyle’s chin so he’d move to face Will, “Do you like my pretty boyfriend, Willy?” She pressed her hungry smile on Kyle’s temple, waiting to see Will’s attention move on the Aussie’s face.

When it did, Erika ate up the way Will studied Kyle’s features. She watched avidly as his big eyes eventually landed on her boyfriend’s full lips. 

“I do,” he finally admitted. Not that it was news to anyone. Kyle still offered a massive victorious smile, blushing ever so sweetly.

 “So, I could dare you to do anything,” Erika looked at both boys biting on her lower lip.

“It all depends on how far you are willing to go, love.” Will teased her following with a quick wink. 

Erika was shaken by a heat wave that crossed her skin, into her flesh, gathering through her body just to nest into her abdomen. What has been a fantasy for years was becoming reality all too quickly.

She licked her lips, “I don’t know,” she didn’t lift her eyes from Will as she slid her hands over Kyle’s chest, playing with his shirt. Black was a colour that suited him so well. Not quite as good as green though. “How does all the way sound to you?”

Will’s attention moved on Kyle. He was serious now. “Are you fine with this, bruv?”

The Aussie met him with a cocky, compliant smirk. He hadn’t lifted his attention from Erika. On the contrary, if possible, his pride and affection seemed only to increase. “She does what she wants, mate. I don’t control her.” His eyes crossed her figure, “But I do enjoy the ride.” Once again, Kyle stretched on the sofa, opening his arms up, implying the freedom she had. “And if the ride involves you, that’s just the cherry.”

This time it was the Brit who blushed. The way Kyle winked at Will, meaning all the things always hidden in between their shameless flirting, made Erika’s chest tremble with anticipation.

Erika's attention slid back to Kyle. She melted into a soft smile. Gratitude and affection poured out of her gaze, right into his. She relaxed, sitting back on his thighs as her hands raised confidently across Kyle's neck and to his face. Erika cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer. Kyle was hanging into her touch and welcomed her kiss with a smile. He slid his big hands distractedly over her thighs, establishing contact but still not caging her into a hug.

This time Will looked at them closely. He was still slightly awkward, but his gaze burned with interest that he didn't bother to hide anymore.

Erika let go of Kyle only to turn back to Will, meeting his focused gaze with a teasing smile. Just because she liked to play under his attention, she licked her lips, tasting Kyle's kiss.

“Kiss me.” She finally said, inviting him to move closer.

Before he even dared to breathe, Will looked back at Kyle to check his reaction, only to find complete relaxation from the Aussie. Kyle was still smiling and just nodded at the Brit, laying back on the edge of the sofa. Now, he was the one watching.

Will was still hesitant in the way he crawled closer to her, though she was ready to catch him. Erika slid a hand on his chest, enjoying pressing her palm against his solid flesh. It was the first time she was directly touching him to feel him and they all seemed to react to it. She moved softly, never breaking eye contact with him, somehow afraid she would scare him away. Erika brushed her palm up to the collar of his tee, her fingers toyed with the feeling of its material for a moment before she decided to keep moving up and around the solid column of his neck. 

Will didn't oppose her. 

He may be frozen into hesitation, with his breath shaking and all, but it didn't mean he didn't want it. She could see it in his eyes.

Erika pulled him closer. Her hand moved to his jaw. “Hey,” she whispered, the closest she had ever been to his lips. Their noses were touching. 

“Hey,” he replied just as softly.

For a second it was only them.

Erika smiled. She tasted his breath on her tongue and shivered in anticipation. Her body ached under the need to be touched, even when Will didn’t seem comfortable enough with that just yet.

She was done waiting. She had decided she needed to take things into her own hands and be the one breaking that last small distance between them. So, she did, sealing it with a kiss. It was soft at first, she wanted to leave him the chance to back off. Will barely reacted as they both took a moment to feel each other's lips. She let them all get acquainted with that new dynamic all the while just enjoying feeling Will’s full lips pressed on hers. 

The desire Erika was feeling was undiscovered ground. There was something ravaging in the idea of wanting a man. Another man. Feeling her interest in Will becoming not so dormant anymore and rising, taking over her. But it wasn’t only about Will. It was also being aware that her own man was watching it happen. She wasn’t alone, Kyle was part of it and the freedom and trust he was offering her made her feel all-powerful. 

Just after a good second into that timid, tepid contact, Will seemed to finally defrost. He inhaled deeply her scent and moved forward, embracing her. He grabbed her side, filling his palm up with the material of her top as he clawed at her soft hip. His fingers dug into her flesh as he pulled her closer. 

To the brush of his tongue over her lips, Erika felt her stomach tremble and she was more than happy to oblige. As soon as their tongues crossed, she released a soft sigh. She crossed her arm around his wide shoulders, curiously sliding her fingers into his curly hair. Will’s flavour went straight to her head, whereas for their kiss, she felt it in her lower abdomen. 

Her other hand stayed firm on Kyle’s chest. She needed to keep solid contact with him, not willing to cut him out. And he seemed of the same idea. His hands were stroking her thighs, he had pushed his fingers under the edge of her skirt and was teasing her following the rhythm of her kiss with Will. Erika’s fingers fiddled with the edge of his shirt, loosening up a button just so she could slide her hand under its soft material and feel Kyle’s hot skin burn directly on her palm.

Will was quick to gain confidence. He caged her into his arms, pushing his other arm around her figure. At first, his fingers only brushed on her chest, studying her skin, then his hand wrapped gently around her neck, holding her. The way his thumb crossed her throat in a soft caress made her quiver. He then pushed his entire hand into her loose hair, grabbing it, and making her bend for him as he deepened his kiss.

Any thought Erika may have had was gone. Her mind was pure, hot vapour and she felt like she was melting away in between the two.

Kyle moved. He was done watching. He pulled himself up and got closer to her, enough to kiss the exposed skin of her shoulder. Feeling him, as if Will knew Kyle’s intentions, he moved to grant Kyle enough space to latch on her neck and rolled an arm around the Aussie, placing an open hand on the back of his neck, venturing his fingers in between his hair. 

Erika released a shameless moan into Will’s mouth, not even trying to hide how turned-on she was. Especially when Kyle pulled on her thighs, inviting her to rub against him. 

Erika broke the kiss with Will and turned to Kyle. Their lips connected in a savage kiss. She whimpered and purred tasting both men on her tongue. And she only wanted more. She was hungry. Violently shaken by a deep, dark desire she had never thought she would have felt. It was coming from deep within like a beast awaken. 

She felt Will close to her ear. His breath was hot against her sensitive skin, rippling on her neck, making her lower abdomen react. The small sigh he released, watching her making out with Kyle slid right through her, giving her goosebumps. 

“Fuck-” he whispered just as Erika slid a hand around his neck, squeezing softly.

Kyle, on the other hand, didn’t seem willing to show her mercy. He pushed her skirt high around her waist, grabbing her ass full into his large palms and guiding her firmly to roll her hips against him, bringing her to directly rub against the bulge in his pants. She was already a mess. Erika whimpered as her body was crossed by pure pleasure, only prompting Kyle to reward her with a moan of his own.

She pushed her free hand under the collar of Kyle’s shirt and across his wide shoulders, where she had no shame digging her nails. 

All too suddenly, Erika broke her kiss with Kyle and gently pushed both men off her, leaving them all breathless. Her hands slid on their chest, both to keep feeling them and to halt them, even if for a moment. She looked at them both, trying to soothe their puzzled looks.

“Are you ok, love?” Will studied her features trying to read an answer on her face. His attention then slid on Kyle, to check if he was ok too.

She nodded. “Yes, more than ok,” she stroked both men tenderly, offering a grateful smile. Her attention then moved on Kyle. “I feel we are going in a certain direction, aren’t we?”

“Too soon?” The Aussie wondered, stroking her legs, this time in an affectionate, encouraging way.

“Oh, well-” Erika chuckled, trying to catch her breath, she looked at him and then back at Will, “Yes. But, it’s good. I like that direction.” 

Both guys smiled bright and proud, just as if they had received a golden star. They looked at each other and, once again, they talked without words. 

“I guess we like that direction too, then.” Explained Kyle, finding confirmation in Will’s nodding. 

“We are talking about shagging, aren’t we? I am not misunderstanding?” Sometimes Will could be so strikingly smart. And sometimes he could be dumb as a rock and still, he’d just as easily win hearts all the same.

Erika rolled her eyes, struggling to hide an amused smirk. “That is such an ugly word, Billy.”

“Is it?” Will smirked, pushing a finger under her chin, making her look at him in the eye. “Is fucking any better.”

A shiver crossed her. “Yeah-” 

Will looked straight into her eyes and she felt like she was getting lost in his gaze. “Is that what you are talking about then? You want to get fucked by both of us?”

Erika tried to suffocate a whimper, which only caused Will to chuckle. Behind his eyes hid all his desire and she seemed to be able to see all the things he wanted to do to her. Another shiver crossed her. 

“I do.” She finally admitted, but before she could get lost in that statement, feeling both men closing on her, Erika held her ground, turning back to Kyle. This time, she needed to have his sole focus. “And I need to know you are with me on this.”

“Baby,” he looked up at her. He was so smitten by her, with his enamoured bright eyes and blushed cheeks, “I’d walk through fire for you. This?” He grabbed Will’s shoulder, giving him a shake, “This is just a fun night to me.”

“Tell me. Tell me you are happy to get into a threesome with me. With us. I need to hear it.” She wanted it desperately, but she had no intention of doing anything that could jeopardize her happiness with Kyle.

Kyle softly cupped his hands around her face, slowly nodding at her. “If this is what you want. And Will is down. Then I am more than fine with it.”

She nodded and then looked up at Will, looking for the same sentiment. “Will?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean this is not how I’ve planned my evening to go but I’ll be damn if I let the opportunity go,” he winked jokingly at them both, “I’m in it, loves.”

Erika melted into the widest of smiles and then she leaned in, kissing Kyle first and Will after. Only a quick one before deciding to move. They were done talking for the night.

She got up from the warm cocoon Kyle’s lap offered, holding both the boys’ hands and guiding them up to follow her. She didn’t even bother to fix her skirt or her top. To her, it was just quicker and better to get rid of her clothes entirely. 

Which was precisely what she did. Knowing she had both men’s full attention burning on her back, she decided it was time to give them a show. Erika slowly and sensually started to slip out of her top, moving her body fluidly, like in a slow dance. She then stretched lazily, as if she had just woken up from a nap. Her skirt was next. She let it pool at her feet and stepped over it swaying her hips.

Behind her, she heard Will making a noise so similar to a growl. And Kyle chuckled in response, as the Aussie heavily patted the other on the chest. “You are in for a treat, my friend.”

“No doubt.” 

Erika gave them a quick, cheeky look from over her shoulder, soaking up the worship in their eyes. Being almost entirely naked, save for her revealing panties, was something that made her feel extreme ease under her skin. She liked being naked.

She guided them both into the bedroom and finally faced them with a wide, victorious smile bending her lips. 

She kicked her heels off, finding extreme pleasure in the sudden height difference with Kyle. Will was quite tall too, just not as tall as the Aussie. He slid his hands around her hips, holding her as his fingers toyed with the elastic of her underwear. He looked straight down into her eyes. The pale blue of his irises was as bright as fresh, calm seaside waves. That’s what he felt like to her. Warm like Summer.

Erika pulled him down in a soft kiss and then turned her attention to Will. Kyle was still close enough for her to have her back pressed on his chest.

She wondered what would Will feel like. Would a night be long enough for her to find out what Will made her feel like? She had a suspicion that just like Kyle felt like Summer and fresh, clear seawater, Will would feel like a rainy day in Autumn.

Will’s eyes slid across her body, studying her curves. “You both are fucking breathtaking, loves.” His eyes were dark and glimmering, but what she found most attractive was the pink blushing his cheeks. 

Erika’s smile grew wider. Will’s voice caressed her and nested into her stomach, filling her up with confidence. “Yeah?” She wondered teasingly, sliding her hands across herself. She cupped her breasts, arching her back. Kyle, behind her, sighed in approval. Will’s gaze followed her movements closely. “Like what you see, Ospreay?” She teased.

He raised an eyebrow, “I’d be mad if I didn’t.”

She encouraged him to get closer and then moved her hands to his wide chest looking up at him. He met her with the softest of gazes, his lips bent in an encouraging smile as she felt his eyes crossing her features. “Have you been wanting this for a while, love?” He wondered playing with a lock of her hair, twirling it around his index.

Erika bit down on her lip and nodded. 

“Yeah?” Will pushed on, his hand slid on her face. “With us?”

“Yes,” she whispered, not for timidity but because her breath was short. “I have thought about this moment before.”

“Damn,” Will grinned, exchanging a proud look with Kyle, over her head. When he looked back at her he had a cheeky grin printed on his lips. She knew she was safe, and yet something about the way Will just looked at her made him look somehow dangerous. It gave her a shiver that crossed her from head to toe, only bringing her desire to grow. “Tell us about your fantasy, love.”

She looked at him for a long moment and then raised her eyes to Kyle, who was waiting for her with an encouraging nod. “Go on, we are here for you.”

Erika, for the first time, felt timid. It wasn’t her naked skin making her suddenly aware of being watched and seen, but the idea of revealing something so personal to them made her hesitate and blush. Even under the promise they would have done anything to her heart's desire, she still needed a moment to fight the knot rising in her throat.

They were gonna do it. She was about to give in to her deepest fantasy.

“First,” she said pushing both men off her just so she could climb on the bed. For the first time in her life, she found herself wondering if the mattress would have welcomed three people comfortably. “You both are wearing too many clothes.” Erika pointed out kneeling in the centre of the bed, patiently waiting for the two to undress. She bit on her lip, looking at them both. “And I am getting cold.”

Kyle moved first. “We don’t want that,” he kicked off his shoes and finished to undo his shirt, throwing it on the floor. His jeans followed. Since he moved first, her attention followed him and the skin he was uncovering.

She loved the way he moved, but it wasn’t only his confidence and effortlessness that attracted her like a magnet. It was the way his pale skin moved as his muscles stretched and contracted; it was the way his hair fell on his forehead, and it was in the quietness of his steps.

As he moved across the room she followed his body. Her hungry eyes crossed his entire figure. Erika knew his body well. She knew how his skin felt and tasted. She knew exactly what he liked. She knew what made him tick and assert dominance, and what made him whimper and beg. She knew how he liked to be handled but mostly, how he liked to handle her. And she knew how to behave to please him. He was surprising in many aspects and sex was one of those. Kyle was extremely open-minded. He liked to play and experiment and, especially for that reason, they had tried most things in the bedroom. Probably for that specific reason, she was extremely comfortable with him and also never tired of him. There was something about Kyle that kept her wanting, always, no matter how much pleasure he’d bring her in one sitting.

Agile like a cat, Kyle moved fluidly and reached her side. Biting down on his lower lip, he made her raise her face and look at him pushing only the tip of his index under her chin.

She was completely under his spell.

Kyle stole a kiss and then guided her to look back at Will, leaning his head against hers. 

Will stood stiff in the middle of the room, he was observing them closely. His gaze was hooked to them both, as his eyes didn't miss any opportunity to cruise on their bodies. And yet, some form of soft shyness seemed to hit him. 

Erika giggled, taken by surprise and nonetheless attracted to him. His rosy cheeks made her tremble with the desire to conquer him. She raised an encouraging hand, calling him to her. “What's the matter, Will?” She wondered as she gently pulled him to her. He hesitated as he moved closer to them, holding his breath. When he stopped at the foot of the bed, so close to her, he instinctively looked at Kyle, looking for support, not daring to move another inch.

She knew exactly what he was looking for, just as much as she knew how willing Kyle was, by then, to do his best to make everyone feel comfortable and give them all the night of their lives. She felt the Aussie moving behind her, but before he could do or say anything, she took control of the situation back. 

Erika smiled sweetly, like a doll, knowing exactly how to use all her assets to make men tremble. She dared to get as close to Will as possible and tapped his proud chin, making him look at her instead. “Do you need me to help you undress?” Her tone was low and tempting.

As soon as Will’s gaze fell on her, she felt all the weight of his desire hitting her. Her smile widened as her hands cruised across his wide chest. “Hey,” she whispered softly, “It’s ok,” she encouraged him, never breaking eye contact as her fingers hooked on his shirt and pulled it gently up his abdomen, prompting him. 

He finally seemed to defrost and slipped out of his t-shirt in one fluid move. 

When his chest was left bare, Erika looked down. She had seen him like that many times, but she had never been naked in front of him before. Again, her hands moved avidly on his torso, studying the solid edges of his muscles. His skin was warm and surprisingly soft under her touch and the more she touched, the more of his body she desired to explore and not only with her hands. She looked at her own fingers moving across his abdomen, tracing the edges of his abs. She felt her mouth water as the feral need to nibble on the soft skin on his belly intensified.

When her hands moved down to his belt, she looked back up at him. She whipped out a cheeky smile as she toyed with the edge of his jeans, following it around his hips. Will’s gaze hadn’t moved, he was studying her every feature, still not daring to move.

“You know what my fantasy involves, Will?” She wondered pulling a hand back to reach blindly for Kyle, who was ready to take her arm into his hand and guide her palm to his mouth, as he softly kissed her skin. She shivered.

“Tell us,” Will’s coarse voice was low and rumbled right through her stomach and into her lower abdomen. 

“Touch me.” She ordered, guiding one of his hands to her hip. 

Will didn’t need more than that. His other hand followed and as soon as both his big hands solidly caged her waist, Erika released a satisfied sigh. His hands were rough and yet his touch was careful and warm. 

Unable to keep herself at a distance anymore, Erika pushed herself against him and, pulling on his neck, kissed him. 

Will was quick to act. Every trace of timidity left him. His lips were nothing but welcoming, the taste of his tongue on her made Erika’s head spin. He caged her in between his strong arms and didn’t hesitate to grab her ass, solidly feeling her soft flesh with his hand. Holding her like that, he pulled her towards him, making her pressing herself completely against his chest. A satisfied, low growl left him, as he felt her naked skin and breasts against him. 

As sweet as the idea of letting go was, Erika resisted. She abruptly pushed Will away, breaking their kiss and then slipped off his hold only to fall back into Kyle's hug. 

As he welcomed her in his arms, she snuggled on his chest, sitting back on his lap and letting her head fall on his shoulder. Kyle’s arms moved around her hips as his lips cruised her shoulder. He followed up her neck, prompting Erika to turn and catch his lips, pushing a hand into his hair. 

Kyle’s hands moved across her abdomen and, as he reached for her breasts, cupping both of them into his large palms, she arched her back, pushing her chest out and her ass back into his crouch.

She knew Will was watching and it was inebriating.

“You are still dressed, Will.” She teased, looking back at the Brit and whipping a sharp grin. She leaned against Kyle again, from there, she had a good enough view of the other.

Taking it like a challenge, just like she hoped, Will raised his chin and let her watch as he removed his jeans. There weren’t many things able to make her lose her mind, but seeing such a big, strong, successful guy blushing for her was one of those.

His boxers followed and, once he was naked in front of her, Will raised his chin once more, proudly accepting her curious gaze on his exposed body. 

Erika followed his abdomen and had to bite her tongue not to bark seeing his hip dips. She wanted to sink her teeth in them and leave a mark. Her eyes then, with no shame or modesty, followed the dark happy trail under his belly button and fell on his erection. There was nothing to hide anymore, after all. And still, right there and then she found herself still not prepared to see another man in full, beautiful nudity.

“Is this what you wanted, love?” He wondered, wrapping his hand around his cock, massaging it slowly. “Is it as you fantasised?”

Erika couldn’t take her eyes off him and was so taken she didn’t realise her jaw had dropped. He was big. She had always suspected it, but seeing him for the first time made her suddenly feel empty and desperate. 

She released a giggle, pressing her face into Kye’s neck. “You both will be the ruin of me.”

Kyle softly kissed her temple and then cheek, moving to her ear, pushing her to look back at Will with his face. “Wasn’t that what you wanted, baby?”

“I,” Will began climbing on the bed, “want you to tell us exactly what you want us to do to you,” He got closer to them and softly scooped her face into his palms, capturing her eyes, “I want to know how you like to get fucked, love.”

She replied with a small whimper and just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, Kyle traced a hand to her neck, bringing her to look at him. “What are you in the mood for, baby?” 

Her hands raced to both men, as she needed to hold onto them. Her skin was hot and felt tight around her own body as she desperately needed to be touched, bit and licked. Just thinking about it made her abdomen ache. She felt her loins tortured by the heaviness of her desire.

Kyle kissed her and then looked at Will, exchanging a complicit look. His attention still focused on her. “Do you want to lead? Or would you like us to take care of you?”

Erika nodded, her eyes moved from Kyle to Will, nodding again to him. “You take it. The control, take it,” she said looking up at Kyle, giving him permission to do of her like he pleased and decide if and when to let Will do the same.

“Ok, baby,” Kyle whispered softly, rewarding her with another kiss. Then, his grip around her throat became more assertive. He pulled her against his chest, making sure Will had complete view over her.

“Shall we show Will how good you are, pet?” He wondered to her ear, switching from his more affectionate pet name to the one he preferred using when he was going to be dominant. His eyes still pointed at Will, teasing him, studying his reaction. “What do you think?” Kyle continued, softly nibbling at her neck. “I think Will would like to see what a good girl you can be.”

Her eyelids fell heavy on her eyes as she too studied Will reaction, feeling her skin quiver under the intense laser hot focus he had on them. His eyes followed as one of Kyle’s hands moved on her abdomen and down. When the Aussie pushed his hands in between her legs, they both were left breathless. “Shit, pet,” the way he kept gently and devotedly referring to her with her pet name made Erika’s lose her train of thoughts. “Mh,” Kyle smiled proudly, releasing a low moan, “you are so wet. Soaked your panties.”

Erika trembled under the attentive touch of his fingers, trying to move her hips and have more. “Kyle,” she huffed, digging her nails into his forearm. 

“You should have told us you were such a mess,” he still teased, raising his hand to show Will her juices sticking his fingers. “Do you want Will to touch you like this?” He wondered lowering his hand again, not giving her time to reply. This time, when he reached back, he pushed his hand under her panties, pushing his large fingers through her folds, finding her clit with ease. Kyle smiled like a wolf, moving his attention to Will, enjoying seeing the Brit breathless. 

“Do you hear the noises she makes, Willy?” Just to prove a point, the Aussie left space to the squelching noise her pussy made as he toyed with her. Her soft, sweet whimpers followed. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Will was gone, lost under Kyle’s spell just like she was. “She is. You both are.”

Erika trembled under Kyle’s touch. She was already a mess and he had barely started touching her. Kyle had no mercy either, he was determined to give Will a show. “Say it, pet. Tell me.”

The way Will was looking at her made her skin ache. “I do, I do,” she whined, “please,” 

Kyle took her words like an order and let go of her, looking at Will over her shoulder. A smile crossed them both and, after a nod of acknowledgement, Will took over.

He towered over her, his hands quickly tracing down her hips, gripping on her thin underwear. “You won’t need these, will you, love?” He wondered and, as she replied with a whimper, he ripped her panties unapologetically, giggling to himself. As he pushed his hand in between her legs, Erika climbed his figure, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and dragging him down into a kiss. 

Will pushed his rough fingers into her wet folds and welcomed her heat with a low, pleased moan that vibrated through his chest and straight into her belly. He didn’t give her anytime to get used to him, the pace of his strokes was unforgiving. “Do you want to come?”

Erika nodded, rolling her eyes in the back of her skull, already feeling her abdomen heavily contracting as waves of pleasure crossed her. 

“Nah,” Will wrapped his free hand around her throat and squeezed, “that’s not enough, love. Kyle said you’d be a good girl. So tell me. I wanna hear it.”

“Fuck-” She huffed, digging her nails into his shoulder, feeling herself already coming undone. “Make me come. Please Will, please,”

Will smirked. His grin made his lips bend in a dangerous curl. Merciless, Will stopped stroking her only to look down at her, amused. “Already begging?” He looked back at Kyle, “We haven’t even started with you. Are you sure you can take us?”

“I can take anything you guys have to give,”

“Careful, love, we might take you up on that.”

“Such a desperate mess,” Kyle started, dragging himself closer to her. The moment she realised she was squeezed in between them two it was like she breathed new life, and still, air wasn’t was she needed to stay alive anymore. Not as much as she needed them right there and then. Kyle kissed her shoulder, neck, ear, pushing a hand in between her hair and pulling them, making her raise her head forcefully. “So pretty,” he smiled, still looking at her with the upmost devotion.

“She is.” Will agreed, “Keep her steady,” he ordered and proceeded to go back touching her. Again, his touch was hot and skilled and his pace unforgiving. Kyle did as instruct and held her, ready to catch her as Will pushed over the edge. “Yeah, love, c’mon, come for us,” they both watched her in awe as she came. Kyle pushed a thumb into her mouth, trying to suffocate her loud moans, with not much success. As her orgasm shook her, Will pushed two fingers inside of her. She welcomed that invasion eagerly, moving her hips into his palm. 

“Fuck-” he groaned as her walls squeezed his fingers, “so fucking tight.” Will guided her through her high and then let her catch her breath, as both men held her. He then raised his fingers to his mouth, sucking her juices off his digits right under her eyes. Erika gasped, looking at the way the pink tip of his tongue danced on his fingertips. “so fucking delicious.”

Taken by a ravaging desire, Erika pulled herself up, capturing Will’s lips into a kiss. Tasting herself on his tongue made her whine and purr, feeling as she had just marked him. It was something primal, and she wasn’t ashamed of it.

The moment she caught her breath, Erika moved her attention to Kyle. Now distancing herself slightly from Will, she climbed on the other and found a comfortable nest into his lap. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you still have your boxers on.” She dared, pushing her fingers into his hair, only to move them back on his forehead.

Kyle smiled. “Why? Does it bother you, pet?” He teased her, only prompting her to move her hips on him, rubbing herself intentionally on his erection. 

Not satisfied, she then pushed her hand on the trapped bulge of his erection, grinning proudly up at him. He was so hard it made her mouth water. Knowing he wanted her so bad only fed her ego. “Yes,” she purred, massaging him and enjoying seeing how he moved under her spell. Erika watched his shoulder tensing and his Adam’s apple tremble in his throat. “Especially since I’d like to choke on your cock as Will fucks me.”

“Is that your little fantasy?” As Kyle wrapped his long arms around her, Will was the one who moved closer to them now. 

He softly kissed her necked shoulder, as his hands found her hips. He traced her skin all the way up to her neck with his lips and she could feel he was smiling. “Is it, love?”

Erika had to remind herself to breathe and when she did, she almost chocked, trying to regain focus. She nodded, rolling her head back just enough to look up at Will. “Yes. To begin with,”

Will raised his eyebrows and sent an amused look to Kyle, his smile only widened. “Did you hear your little girl? To begin with, that’s impressive.”

Kyle pushed her hair behind her ear, attracting her attention back to him. “She has stamina. Right, pet?”

Erika gaze became sharper. She looked at Kyle first and Will after and then she kissed them both. “You are driving me insane.” She confessed, “I have never craved sex like I am doing right now. Like a fucking animal. So,” Erika gave them both a soft push, only to get them to give her the space to position herself facing Kyle and giving her back to Will. “I want you both to fuck me until I beg you to stop. Until I fucking cry or pass out. Can you do that?” She wondered pointing both her indexes under their chins. “And I am not being a good girl right now,” she continued, lowering herself on all fours. “I am being very, very naughty and I want you to punish me. I want you to either shut me up or make me scream.”

Kyle grabbed her chin, making her look at him, purposely towering above her. With his thumb he pushed her lips open, toying with her, enjoying seeing how she followed his queue and flicked her tongue on his digit. “Heard that, mate?” He didn’d look away but wasn’t talking to her. 

“Loud and clear, bruv,” Will’s hand followed her hips, prompting her ass up. He wrapped one of his strong arms around her hips, pulling her towards him, rubbing himself against her ass. “You want me to fuck you while your boyfriend watches? So fucking dirty.”

“S-shit, Will,” she breathed heavily, “Kyle.” 

Calling for the Aussie only prompted Will to give her a push, bending her forward in front of him. He slid his hands across her thighs, first the outside and then, his fingers teased her, following her most sensitive skin on the inside, encouraging her. She felt his eyes burning on her skin, “Fuck me, you are perfect, love. Spread those legs for me, let me see your little pussy,” his hands moved around her glutes, spreading them and toying with her flesh.

She was blinded by desire by then. Her mind was fogged, everything she could think about was the cold feeling of air hitting her exposed skin and her aching, empty loins waiting to be filled. 

As she arched her back, in an automatic response, Will sighed in approval, rewarding her with a playful slap on her ass. Then, he pushed his heavy cock on her, sliding it on her wet folds, teasing her clit. Erika whimpered, trembling under him. “You want it. Such a bad girl so desperate for this cock, uh? Who would have thought,” He then proceeded to push a finger inside of her, and then a second, “Fuck,” he gasped, “You are even wetter than before.”

“Please, Will-” as she begged him, her hands opened on the mattress, her arms already shaking under the pressure. She licked her lips. 

A hot wave of pleasure crossed her, making her quiver. She released a soft moan, with her chin still in Kyle grab. She looked up at him, silently begging to get what she asked for. 

“What’s that, pet?” He wondered casually, pretending not to know what she wanted. Kyle pulled on her chin, making her bend between them. “You want my dick? What a dirty, dirty slut you are, begging to be filled both ends by two guys.”

In response, she simply nodded, releasing a choked moan, as her focus slid on his boxers. She was ready to drool, only seeing the underline of his cock pressing heavily in the soft material of his boxers.

Kyle let her go with a ruder push, granting her the freedom to do as she pleased and Erika finally reached for him. She took a moment to toy with him, rubbing her hands on his cock and balls from over his boxers. Erika followed his lower abdomen with her tongue until she reached the elastic of his underwear, it may have looked like she had some patience left, but truth was she was done, she couldn’t wait any longer. She eagerly pulled his boxers down his thighs and grabbed his erection with both hands. As she traced his length with her tongue, Erika looked up, making sure Kyle was enjoying the view.

He released a grunt, pushing a hand into her hair, grabbing a handful. His other hand slid around her throat, grabbing at her solidly. “Are you ready, pet?”

As she nodded to him, Kyle’s attention briefly moved to Will signalling to him the same message. “Fuck her,” he ordered. “Give her exactly what she asked. Be rough, she likes it rough, right pet?” Kyle’s attention slid back on her.

Erika nodded, now entirely submissive, “Yes, please. Please, Will, just give it to me,”

Will pushed a hand up her back, following her spine, pushing her down. “Then, put your face on the mattress, love. Give me a minute and then Fletch can fuck your pretty throat, yes?”

She obeyed and as she lowered herself, both men released a pleased sigh. 

Will positioned himself, prompting the tip of his fat cock against her entrance. He teased her a couple of seconds and then, with no warning, grabbing onto her hips, he pushed himself inside of her with one sharp thrust, making sure he hit her as deeply as he possibly could. He ripped a loud moan out of her chest that she suffocated in the mattress, only prompting him to groan in response. He stretched her completely, taking her breath away. They both moaned, as she melted in a victorious smile. 

Will then gave her take a moment to get used to him. As she welcomed his size, squeezing him, Erika almost lost strength, feeling the need to let herself go. She was already seeing stars. She felt him in her belly, so deep inside of her she was sure she had never felt so filled. 

“Good girl,” he rewarded her with a praise, before he started to move, slow at first in and out of her. “Such a good little girl with a good little pussy,”

Erika purred and whimpered, calling his name, as pleasure prevailed over her.

Every one of his pushes made her pleasure grow, bringing her to unashamedly moan for him, as the pressure of a new, rising orgasm nested across her stomach.

Will’s hands were solidly holding onto her hips as he fucked her from behind, guiding her to slide upon his cock. He was holding her so tightly it almost hurt, almost, because her pleasure was much greater, enough for her to forget about discomfort. Plus, she was hoping his clutch would leave bruises on her skin. There was something so profound, so intimate, about being marked during sex, and she loved to have her skin baring the traces of passion. 

There was a pause. Kyle waited patiently, giving her the chance to get used to Will first, before he too moved, pulling on her hair to get her back up. She was ready to welcome him as soon as he did. Keeping her by her hair with one hand and wrapping his other around her throat, helping her balancing herself, Kyle smiled dangerously to her, willing to give her exactly what she had asked for, nodding, as she opened her mouth for him. “Good girl, open wide,”.

Erika leaned in, sliding her tongue across his shaft, from base to tip, enjoying hearing his sigh of approval. She closed her lips around the tip of his cock, sucking on it and playing with it with her tongue, and then she pulled him deeper in the back of her throat. Kyle grabbed on her hair. And Will clutched on the soft edges of her hips, digging his cock deeper inside of her. So much she thought she felt his hit in her stomach.

Erika had never felt so filled up and she loved it. It made her skin shiver and her stomach tremble as pleasure buzzed through her entire being, making her arms and legs shake. She savoured the feeling of both their hands on her, as the warmth of both their bodies seeped through her skin. She was so lost in the pleasure Will was giving her and in the devotion she was determined to show Kyle as he fucked her throat, she didn’t even recognize the waves of an orgasm growing on her. To the point that, when she came, it was a surprise.

“Fuck,” Will grunted, “Yes, love, yes. Come for me. Such a good girl.” As Will praised her, guiding her through her orgasm with unforgiving thrusts, Kyle pulled back, granting her the possibility to voice her pleasure. He scooped her face up, making her look at him. “Are you coming, pet?”

She was only able to roll her eyes, nodding, unable to speak if not for convulsed whimpers.

Will didn’t stop. He kept pounding her trembling flesh. He guided her through her high and then right into overstimulation. Unforgiving and perfect. As her strength left her, he was ready to grab her a moment before she folded on the mattress. Will pulled her up, so her shoulders were pressed against his chest. He held her tight with an arm around her waist and a hand wrapped around her throat. “Oh, we are not done, love.” His whisper sounded so sweet and yet so threatening. She looked up at him, helpless, only able to whimper as her tired flesh was charging up again. She felt like she could break under such pressure. Will’s fingers slid around her jaw, holding her as he nodded proudly. “Go on, love, give me another, I know you have it in you.” He then pulled her chin, turning her towards Kyle, “Let your boyfriend watch you coming on my cock again.” 

Will slid his free hand between her thighs, easily finding her clit that he proceeded to massage, still pounding inside of her, breaking her breath with every hit. 

“Touch yourself, Kyle,” Will instructed, his hungry gaze falling on the Aussie. “I want to see it.”

Erika watched as Kyle gave Will what he wanted without hesitation, wrapping his hand around his cock, he pumped into his palm, letting the Brit curiously and unashamedly watch. Kyle released a small whimper, calling for Will’s name, only prompting the Brit to approve with a grunt.

Erika grabbed on Will’s arm, digging her nails through his skin, doing her best to find something to hold onto as a new wave of pleasure washed over her. This second orgasm was so powerful that it blinded her for a moment. She cried out loud, calling for Will’s name multiple times, as he guided her through her pleasure, this time properly, granting her the chance to catch her breath, indulging her satisfied body, supporting her. He whispered sweet praises into her ear, welcoming her pleasure with pure satisfaction.

As soon as Will loosened his hold on her, Erika thought she could fall, but Kyle was there to catch her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as Kyle took her away from Will’s arms and laid her on the mattress. He caressed and kissed her sweaty skin, praising her too, granting her the possibility to rest her quivering body for a moment. 

“Are you ok, baby?” Kyle checked on her. 

Erika’s eyelids still felt too heavy for her to open her eyes but she had enough strength to loosely raise a hand to his face and brush be back of her fingers on his cheek, grateful to his sweet attentions. She was only able to nod to his question. And yet a lazy smile crossed her lips.

She was fatigued, out of breath, maybe even tired, but not at all satisfied, besides the fact that her belly still vibrated with the echoes of the deep pleasure Will just gave her. 

Kyle softly kissed her chin and then her lips, to which point she had gained enough focus back to let her fingers wander free into the lose locks of his hair. At the same time, without looking, she raised her other hand to Will and was pleasantly surprised when he took it into both his, lowering himself to softly kiss her knuckles.

“Was it good, love?” Will wondered, laying next to her and daring to deliver a timid kiss on her shoulder.

Erika chuckled, still out of breath from before. Words were still difficult to be formulated. She suspected they had just fucked her brains out, which made her very happy. So, instead of trying to formulate some grateful praises, she turned to him and kissed him.

“That good, uh?” Kyle was ready to make a light joke as he pressed his smile into the crook of her neck, but before he could, Erika moved so quickly she surprised even herself.

“Mh, yes,” She rolled on top of him, grabbing both his wrists and pushing his arms above his head. Then she sat back, straddling him, looking down at him. Her eyes cruised avidly across his body, “But don’t think I am done with you.”

She then looked at Will too, just to make sure her message was clear. She meant every word from before. 

She pushed her index under Will’s raised chin, enjoying seeing how he moved, attracted like a magnet to her, following her as if she had been pulling him up. When he sat back up and was close enough for a kiss, she smiled evilly, pushing him back down on the mattress.

It was clear she had just decided to take control and both men were willing to give her what she wanted. Both acted following her. When she needed them to lead, they were there to handle her, but now, just as easily, they both submitted themselves. It made her feel all-powerful.

Her attention moved back on Kyle. She pushed her hands on his chest and down, across his abdomen, following the solid line of his muscles with her nails, just to tease him. He didn’t dare to move, keeping his wrists crossed above his head as if she had tied him up.

“Now,” she grinned, as her hand slowly traced back to Kyle’s neck. He bent under her, stretching just as she liked, releasing a soft pleasureful sigh. “It’s your turn,” she proudly announced, only bringing Kyle to nod, completely lost in her design. Erika turned to Will, raising her chin, enjoying to be the one towering over them both, now. “Are you going to watch me ride my boyfriend’s cock?” She wondered, knowing there was only one answer to her question, and still enjoying seeing how Will nodded. “Will you touch yourself as I fuck him? Pretending your hand is my little pussy?”

Will released a low hiss, nodding to her words. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Erika’s eyes widened as his words hit her right in the stomach. A shiver crossed her and then became hot pleasure melting into her. Her lips bent into a warm, wide smile as she stretched and purred. “Look at you,” she grabbed Will’s chin, giving him a soft pull, “you already know exactly how I like to be pleased. Good boy.”

Though as soon as she let him go with a push, her attention went back on Kyle and never moved off him. She smiled at him as sweet and as dangerous as poison. She soaked in the devotion in her eyes and rolled her hips above his, willingly rubbing herself on his erection. The shiver that crossed him made her purr once more. 

“You are such a pretty boy,” she praised him, her hands cruising across his torso. Kyle smiled to her letting her do her thing. She followed his arms and bent over him, grabbing his wrists and pushing them down behind his head as she kissed him. 

He only pretended to try and fight her hold and resist her, but she knew if he actually wanted to break free, he could have easily overpowered her. The fact that he let her lead, especially after she had granted him the control, was intoxicating. She always liked to break the rules. Even her own.

“Did you like seeing Will fucking me?” She teased him sliding her nails across his chest, now deeper, making sure to leave marks.

Kyle gulped loudly and then he nodded. “I did.” 

“Do you want me to fuck you, now?”

“I do.” He pushed himself slightly up, only enough to catch her lips in a famished, desperate kiss.

She didn’t wait much longer. Pushing a hand between their bodies she positioned him to her entrance and slid above him, taking every inch of his length. She pulled herself up, pushing on his chest and let her head fall backwards, welcoming his size with a moan. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.”

She admired him as he welcomed her tight hold with departed lips and glimmering eyes fogged by desire. 

Erika looked over to Will, willingly rolling her hips on Kyle’s cock only to see him mirroring her movement with his hand clutched around his erection. God, those two men, lost in their pleasure, laying underneath her, were gorgeous. The two most beautiful men she had ever laid eyes upon. Both hers in that specific moment.

She stretched letting her head fall backwards, voicing her pleasure. Erika had absolutely no patience or desire to take it easy. She moved her hips up and down Kyle’s cock at a voracious pace and he let her choose the rhythm she more desired, giving her everything she wanted. Understanding her need to get off once more, and being more than supportive about her desires. 

The room filled with their moans. To Erika, it was like something had awaken inside of her. A wild, ravaging desire she had never had before. Something hidden and profound had woken a side of her she didn’t know. And she wondered if she would have ever been able to get back to the person she was and to the life she had.

Erika grabbed Kyle by the neck and squeezed his throat. A satisfied, complicit wide smile crossed her lips as she encouraged him. Pleasure started to build inside of her, firing up her nerves, gathering pressure around her stomach. The more she was given, the more she desired, it was like a sweet curse. And she started to doubt she could really reach full satisfaction.

She gave Kyle a pull, and, like driven by an invisible force, he moved, doing exactly what she wished him to, knowing what she needed. “What is it baby?” He sat up underneath her and caged her in between her arms, now guiding her to ride him, holding her safely. “Are you coming again?”

Erika held solidly onto his shoulders, digging her nails into his back. She suffocated a loud moan into the crook of his neck and then nodded, feeling the intense waves of pleasure mounting inside of her. 

“I need-” her breath was broken by a whimper as her fogged up eyes searched for Will. She reached for him and just as Kyle did before, he too was ready to move for her. 

He was quick to kneel by her side and took her hand into his, letting her palm nest on his chest. “What is it, love?”

“Tell us what you need, baby.”

“Just,” she whispered, “come with me, the both of you.”

Will’s free hand slid on the back of her neck, holding her head up as he pressed his lips on her temple and cheek, bringing her to first kiss him and then let her turn to kiss Kyle.

In the heat of the moment, she let go and came again. This time, as violent as the one before. Blinded by pleasure, her strength leaved her the second her body came undone. Erika abandoned herself between the two men’s arms, crying out their name. 

Both Will and Kyle followed her closely filling her up and marking her skin. 

Erika found herself thinking God, be praised, and had the impression she heard bells tolling, as the two men held her and their pleasure dissipated in the thick, hot air surrounding them. 

It was a funny thought. She wasn’t even religious. An innocent giggle rolled through her chest as both Kyle and Will laid her back on the mattress with care. 

“Good?” Kyle was short breathed and still leaned into her, only bringing her to roll and snuggle against him, rubbing her face against his neck, grateful. “So good.” 

Will, on the other side of her, fixed a pillow under her head and then softly kissed her shoulder. “You are something else, love,” feeling his smile on her skin made her stretch against him and turn, looking for a kiss, “how the fuck am I supposed to get over you two now?”

“Don’t,” Kyle suggested, “Stay.” 

“Yeah?” Will wondered hopeful.

“Check me in a loony bin if I’ll ever refuse you, mate.”

Will exchanged a soft look with Kyle, revealing some sort of gratitude hiding behind his blue eyes. It wasn’t only about stepping into another man’s bed, with his partner. It was much more than that, hidden in plain sight right in between the two boys.

As Will relaxed, Kyle smiled widely and welcomed him with an affectionate, soft slap on the cheek. “Good boy, Billy Goat,” then the Aussie leaned into Erika kissing her softly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, uhm?”

Before he could move away, she held him down making him look back at her. “I love you, Kyle Fletcher.”

“Whatever,” 

[ms0milk]

𝟗 | 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"You are mine."

no cw bkg is no poet laureate. the curtain falls on y/n's business formal era. a long overdue confrontation, an eerie garden, IV drip of catharsis, romance a la knock down drag out fight, and an unexpected guest. memories of Alderan monsoons. we're halfway through, folks. the prince and his guard are more similar than they'd like to admit 5.8k

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glossary lmao featherbit is what happens when you're shooting with feather fletching (not plastic) and you don't move the thumb supporting the arrow out of the way fast enough. the feathers move so fast they slice your hand-- i once had to pull some out of my bone, they really get in there. i practiced archery with a bunch of old women as a kid so this might be their special term and not technically accurate. not sure, pls enjoy :)

In the interim between spring and summer, there are a few weeks filled with rage. Fights break out in the kitchens, porcelain shatters at the market. Children used to bumps and bruises suddenly snap the necks off their dolls in the moments after stubbing toes or pinching fingers.

The string of your bow snapped in a tight draw this past spring, while you were training in the forests beyond Aldera’s gates. The nocked arrow bucked sideways with no clear direction and panicked into the ground a few feet away but not so aimlessly that it didn’t catch your bowhand with its fletching first. You screamed that day, for the first time you ever remember and not because it hurt. A quirk like a sneeze maybe. You screamed again, something pent-up and ferocious, after biting the feathers from the thick of your thumb and then calmly packed up to go home.

When misfortunes pile up, there isn’t a person alive that won’t eventually snap. That’s what May is for, that’s all May is for. Those few weeks before summer are especially unlucky and nothing else, and the rage doesn’t mean a thing. Takoba is a vacuum and the prince is fire and you are a jar, nothing else. It doesn’t mean anything that your fingers are twitching, or that it’s October.

In the sandpit of Aizawa’s training quarters, Takoban soldiers watch on as Uraraka finally convinces you to shoot for her. They whisper on the sidelines sipping from their waterskins, chatting, gossiping all half dressed in some combination of armor and day clothes, or some just look. More than a few only watch you, somewhat apprehensive of the Alderan girl who fired into a crowd with no discipline from Aizawa.

In fact, the Master watches the pit now from his office above the sprawling arena, nursing black tea and a scowl.

You ready a borrowed bow. It’s so natural, the weight of the weapon in your bicep and the sting of fresh strings under your fingertips. “This one’s mine!” Uraraka beams while you repeatedly draw the empty string to your cheek and lower it again for adjustments, “I’m a terrible shot so it doesn’t get much use.”

For a week it’s been this. Training with the timid soldiers and their sweet apprentice captain. Declining a great many invitations from Kaminari and Mina to sleepover. Rising earlier than dawn, banishing the guard sent to watch your door and searching again for your prince. Avoiding the kitchens. Memorizing every corner of the seashell castle in cold autumnal hallways, its sprawling outer walkways battered by sea air, and studying all of the history parsed out in seedsized carvings along odd walls.

For someone so loud, your prince is adept at hiding. For someone so highly trained, your ego cannot take much more of this. Every morning spent searching for someone who thinks nothing of you unless it is to torment.

When the prince is at home he hardly dresses daintily, opting instead for hunting vests and all their loops and hooks for weapons. He wears gold and furs at home, so do you. In Takoba he wears stiff linens with silver climbing from the cuffs. Little blue bows to tie closed his tunic like a viscous babydoll. If you couldn’t still feel his hands at your throat you would laugh.

Shinsou is off running errands for his master and so your only other companion is Sero, gangly as ever, and grinning sleepily as he watches beside Uraraka and her men. “I haven’t seen you shoot in years, Y/n!”

“Why have you seen me shoot at all?” You murmur as you reach into the quiver at your hip to select an arrow. There’s no gallery in Jeanist’s arena at home so unless a lord or lady would like to stand amongst sparring soldiers there is no place to watch you train.

You finger through the decorative fletching and select the one that reminds you most of your queen. Oilslick green, feathers every shimmering color of a peacock sewn to a white birch shaft.

Everyday you find him at lunch, your prince and his friends, growling and smiling through their food in the Great Hall with all the other hundreds of castle staff taking meals. Everyday you station yourself outside the Hall, safe from lunch rush crowds, and everyday he must pass you to leave. You can follow him then. Noon is when you begin your shift. He doesn’t grunt or rumble or speak a single word. Not once all week has he looked at you and no longer do you want to watch him.

Uraraka beams, “Bullseye and lunch is on me!”

“Lunch is free,” you whisper through the draw of your nicely nocked arrow. The bowstrings sit heavy under your fingers as you pull strength to your shoulders in Alderan form. Hips grounded, back straight, shoulders bulging under the pressure, familiar and sore is the draw of a bow and arrow.

Hands trembling, sweat pooling, legs clenched and chest heaving, no matter how often you work your body to exhaustion you can feel him near you. Baths and laundry do not wash away the too soft touch of his hands. Even if it’s only to yawn– to blink– each time your eyes close the prince’s flushed face comes to you, and even more haunting than that is how cold you feel when those same eyes open again. How pitiful your appetite for remembering humiliation. You ready your body to shoot.

You haven’t trained for fifteen years just to miss a shot in front of foreign company. It’s perfect, you are perfect, you know exactly where this arrow will land and how to get it there, like a magnet the arrowhead screams bullseye. You draw tighter, pull the green fletching close enough to your cheek that it’ll cut you on release because the pain will distract from this rock between your ribs, the suffocating anguish tucked under your heart. It helps to hold your breath.

Prince Bakugou's eyes haven’t changed a single time in his life. Wet and worried in a violent carriage. Disinterested in passing on your way to class, bored and rolling when his mother stops to speak with you. Conceited around a campfire. Viscously entertained in windy hallways. No matter what they’re looking at, you will never mistake them, no matter where he is you will find them.

He’s watching you somehow now, you can feel it.

“Kats wait, look!” Sero hollers just loudly enough that you’re shaken from the memories and again focus on aiming. By now the soldiers around him grow impatient and they groan when Sero shouts again, “drinks‘er on Ochako if Y/n hits the mark!”

“I did not say that.”

Above the arena, beside Aizawa’s office, a great distance away, is a little blue balcony and its little blue princess. Right beside her, your prince glowers and slows to a halt as she does. It is well before noon.

Uraraka tries to calm the growing excitement from the crowd, “Princess Fuyumi, please note I said no such thing!” But her soldiers only chuckle and whistle when the princess pretends not to hear her.

What are they doing together? You flex the tips of your fingers just enough to cause pain. Bakugou is not merry, he swells too wide without his cape, he is without champion and so he is not safe and gods how he sucks the soul from a room.

Steady.

Blood red eyes glow from under his fair hair as they always do and they brand you like two pinpoint spotlights. He doesn’t pay attention to Sero chiding or Uraraka bemoaning her wallet or the princess waving her lacey handkerchief beside him. He only watches you.

Smooth pressure like a papercut at your cheekbone and the tension in your shoulders disappears as it always does when an arrow goes flying. Release. For a second you do think you smile.

Perfect center. Finally you breathe again when the room bursts into laughter and clapping, lowering your aiming fingers from your cheek when you look up to the balcony. Amid the cheers, Uraraka is the only one to notice oilslick green blooming from the side of your thumb. Blood drips when you make a point to turn, and to bow deeply to the observing princess while Bakugou glares silently beside her. His charged stare closes the noisy distance. It vibrates the feathers that pierce your flesh.

“I suppose we already knew you were an excellent shot!” Fuyumi cups her hands around her mouth so that you can hear the smile in her words.

Overlapping with her glow, savage eyes drink your blood– the blood that seeps between your fingers as you cup your featherbit hand and your weapon with the other and bow even slightly deeper before rising, weeping wound tucked politely behind your back, to catch the your golden prince leading the princess away.

Bakugou skips lunch today. He skips second lunch and tea and attends not a single meeting, and so you spend your entire wretched day searching for him.

What you would have given to stay in Uraraka’s training pit. To spread out in the sand and watch the soldiers laugh and spar while she bandaged your hand. While she scolded you lightly and slipped you sweet cookies to help with the bloodloss. Instead you left with Sero at lunchtime as you always do, to collect your prince from his hiding place.

The rock of your ribs turns to lead when relief hits you before worry. When Bakugou’s golden head doesn’t appear among his friends at their regular table. You cannot know rest until you know where he is and once you find him you will never know rest again.

You’re wandering now like you have been for hours, without direction from one twinkling meeting room to the next. From silly tea parlors, to the armories, to cartography offices, all empty of the Alderan Prince.

You don’t miss your mother often. In fact, there’s a warm wet hole where her face should be when you think back on golden fields and cotton aprons. You do miss Aldera, obviously you do, and with each mission’s obstacle it becomes more and more clear that home will never be what you left it as. Home will never again be dazzling your queen or hunting with your master, it will be dousing the prince’s flames. Aldera will never again be verdant and protective, it will be Bakugou’s hands on your throat and hips and cheeks and surely he will kill you.

Passing a tidying chambermaid or lazing guard, Takoba Castle has opened up. The prince’s chambers still evade you, but you’re no longer lost in chilly halls or tripping on the odd floor runner. Staff don’t stare anymore. A lord or lady might shirk away from your halberd but they don’t seem too concerned with the woman attached to it. Takoba is getting quieter. In your prince’s distance this week something like peace grows.

A collection of hardly audible voices are the first things to stir the castle in hours and you turn under the stairwell archway to mark where they come from. It’s easily evening now, cold sunsets tipping through windows you happen to pass.

“No– of course I will, but I don’t think–”

“Not for you to think about.”

Winding soft around nothing the voices become distinctly two. One of them is clearly a growling Alderan and as you climb up the tight butlers’ stairwell, the grandeur of an east wing walkway spills over your face with that same sleepy sun. Seaglass Hall. A mnemonic device from your week of wandering; the ceiling of this appendage hallway like so many others in the castle is made of bottled glass, but in the east, only in the east, is it in shades of seafoam green.

Your eyes land squarely on Prince Bakugou, peering startled into the stairwell’s darkness and framed by the archway you trudge through. You’re not sure how much longer you can survive the sight of your jewelry twinkling in his ears. His gold is awash in soft greens beside Deku, who sinks into the shadows under such cool-toned light and you speak before thinking while dusting your hands on your trousers, “Is this where you’ve been hiding?”

Bakugou hasn’t so much as frowned at you since the incident in the kitchens. Besides the archery demonstration this morning, he hasn’t even flicked his hateful eyes in your direction. He hides, he’s hiding, the way he’s kept to himself this week is different than dislike and now the death of your peace is palpable.

You pretend not to feel your pulse jump when his lips part, before he remembers that you are no longer worth speaking to. Is that what he’s thinking as his jaw clenches? He rights himself from standing casually with Deku to his usual intimidating loom. As his pretty red eyes drift through the empty hallway and do a terrible job of hiding his frustration with your words.

There is a crater distance between you and family, between you and any semblance of familiar and soft or vulnerable and whose fault is that? So often it’s no one’s– it’s the queen and her station, it’s Jeanist and his rank, it’s your dead mother, it's the uniform you wear and the eyes that interpret it, it’s the soldiers who drink together and who salute when you walk past, sometimes it’s the color red, sometimes it’s recovering from an injury, it’s in the sympathy of strangers, it’s in your muscles and your favorite weapons and your inability to lose.

Even if only for a second, down the hallway, as you move forward Bakugou seems to lean back.

Deku perks up behind the broad frame of your prince who has begun to puff like a cat in the lengthy silence, and even though you haven’t had much of a chance to speak with the little champion past your accidental spat in the throne room, he doesn’t seem bothered by the memory or by the prince who seethes as he’s talked over.

“He’s all yours Y/n! I’m sorry, didn’t realize you were looking for him.”

Where Bakugou should have snapped or snatched, he only stills. No barking, not even a cross of his arms. He turns his head away as you approach as if pretending to roll his eyes but the prince you know doesn’t shrink in his anger. If he truly wanted you to meet his irritation all he’d need to do is blink. All else fails, he could just grab you again– a puppet on strings pulled too close and smile as you fall to pieces. It worked so well last time.

All three of you seem to realize more words won’t cure this quiet and as Bakugou peels away to storm down the hall, the little champion nods his goodnights sympathetically and gestures through the seaglass after him.

Maybe this is what the sea looks like beneath its frothing waves? Maybe it’s quiet like this, sun bleeding through cool light at lengths immeasurable and asking at a whisper for you to follow.

“Royal summons. Kacchan hates being late.”

Maybe this is what hell looks like? Maybe the heat of the setting sun through stained glass is a warning and your prince, a golden fire, is just a trick the light can use to draw you in like a bug who doesn’t know better. Bakugou’s broad shoulders shrink the longer you let him get away. Maybe you shouldn’t fall for it again.

“Thank you, Champion.”

When Deku slips down the stairwell you came up from, peace truly dies at sea.

Ten and some years ago was Aldera’s wettest summer. Thunderstorms, flooding, bugs like you wouldn’t imagine– most of the season was spent rescuing crops and standing still in rare breezes, but the children had school.

Between training and sleep you dragged yourself to class with civilian kids to learn numbers and poems that would do nothing to protect the queen, in a room full of people too nervous to speak with you. Green lightning ripped through the afternoon sky and caused such bruises that the clouds turned purple. Rain pelted the castle walls sideways.

You were late. You fell asleep standing on shift in the North Wing, tricked into resting your head on the wall from the lull of storm on stone and so when you remember this day the first thing that comes to you is sprinting through golden halls, school bag spanking your hips and back. Sliding down the banister of the Main Hall as if it were a playground, a swift turn under the maiddoor and then a mad dash to the East Wing where your lessons were bound to have started without you. Thunder shook the castle.

The sound of rain grew louder and after bounding round the building you realized why. In one of the four hallways overlooking the courtyard, wind, rain, and debris sailed through the line of open windows and beneath them an exquisitely detailed rug drank up the water that pooled inside. As the red and gold details wet, the castle seemed to be bleeding. It slipped beneath the floorboards and the space was soaked in an ancient smell that could only be dredged out of wood by divine floodwater.

If you were old enough to know the words, curses might have sprung from your mouth as you abandoned the school mission to seal your home back up. At eleven years old this was no easy task. Perhaps the bugs hiding in their trees outside laughed as they watched you leap to catch the first great window frame and drag it down shut. Maybe the birds winced as water filled your school bag and plastered your hair hot across your throat– at your soldier’s uniform, already too big, clinging to your bones now that the rain had taken them too.

The queen loved her art, she loved every floor runner and tapestry, and you would not watch on as the wilderness tried to reclaim her castle. As an adult now, fighting the rain for a rug is of course too silly to be noble but at eleven it was the most important thing in the world. You burned with purpose. You burned too with embarrassment, at the state of your uniform no other child wore and the mess of your hair even as you refused to take shelter or call for help. Then Aldera’s little prince rushed onto the scene from the opposite end of the hall.

Oh how you could have laughed at the state of it all. At Bakugou, scrawny and pretty and dressed up in jewels like he’d just come from an party, and at the thought of what he saw when he turned the corner. Besides how silly you knew you looked, the comedy of the situation hit you for a moment as curtains of rain, branches, and wind whipped inside the eight still-open windows between you.

It was the first of many days you would feel painfully ridiculous beside your beautiful prince. When an unripe peach sailed inside on the gales and cracked you over the head, the pity in his soft eyes stung. This was not how a royal guard should hold herself. Her hair should be kept back, her face should remain neutral, and most of all her cursed uniform was supposed to fit.

As you were knocked off balance, the prince jerked towards you but before he could take a full step into the storm another few fruits were dislodged from their tree and whipped inside around rain and leaves. Bakugou too was clocked in the head, a peach to his cheek and caught another before it could fly into his mouth and knock out a tooth.

As the pair of you righted yourselves and the hallway grew wetter, the thought of class felt too cruel. The decision between your queen’s rugs and her son, too overwhelming– which should you shelter? A bruised prince or a ruined hallway, which would the queen hate more? Your redemption for falling asleep on duty kept drifting farther away, and then Bakugou began to laugh.

He reached up for the window closest to him and shut it tight with a little hop and a whip of his shoulder. A vine of lightning lit the hallway in negatives for a moment.

He grinned, “Get outta here!” And tossed the peach in his fist across seven open stormy windows to you.

Bakugou’s hands are always fists and if you had known this when you were eleven it wouldn’t have charmed you so much. When the prince cracked a smile in the petulant wind tunnel something light like wheat fields came to life inside of you.

“Yes sir.”

As if reading your mind, the grown prince growls when you catch up to him in the Takoban hallway.

Bakugou takes up too much space to hide from anything. He could suck the air from the room like a great big fireplace if he truly wanted to and suffocate every soul inside, so it’s somewhat remarkable, as you fall behind him, that you aren’t brought to your knees or sent through the pretty glass ceiling.

Why doesn’t he speak? What right does he have to be acting strange after pulling you apart for all to see?

The sky through the ceiling above you shifts quietly to purple as the sun sets, although anything but blue feels wrong in Takoba. Immediately at the thought, the red glow of the kitchens plays over the backs of your eyes and your focus darts down again to those dangerous hands you keep at a distance. Bakugou flexes them as he steps.

His big hands dance. At no more than a step or two behind your prince, marching together down the longest hallway you’ve ever seen, you can’t quite look away from his fists under the bottlegreen light. Truly, they are always fists. Always a threat and a reminder like an iron to a branded dog. His hands that cupped your face and pinched you close in the cursed kitchens, exalted by your fear. They lifted you like you weighed nothing and then they caged you in. His hands are only for pain. Playing tricks around a campfire. They are only good for fighting, sweaty and tickling with ripping explosions.

Bakugou pretends he can’t feel your warmth at his back as you drift closer.

Those are the hands that tore through a royal crowd and grabbed hold of your nightgown when they thought no one was around to see. They’re thick and violent– they’re soft. Your well-kept rage stirs as you remember. When they brushed your knuckles warm in a cream calm dream or gripped the fabric at your waist on horseback. Plucking splinters from your bloody cheeks. Gentle when they smothered the flames in your hair at the edge of the forest.

The prince jerks to a sudden stop and when you’re too busy watching the ripple of veins in his fingers, you bump into his back. You both flinch on contact; only at the touch do you realize your prince has been keeping you exactly as distant as you him and then that flinch becomes a fling of mismatched magnets when he snaps his head around, you raise yours, and your pair of fraught eyes meet in lieu of shouting. It aches like a strike to the temple.

In a second your prince is turned and down the hallway again towards a set of modest wooden doors still ages away. “Fucking airhead,” he rumbles. The first words all week. Nostalgia turns to ash in your throat.

The seaglass hallway stretches on with no decoration past the stained glass ceiling. From your week of research this is the only path in all of Takoba Castle that leads straight to the ocean. Something about floodwaters and enemy attacks by sea means that this maze of a seashell at least serves a purpose and that this hallway must be special. Your mind races with the possibilities of what your prince has to do on the other side of it. You wish he would speak to you, and then you wince.

What do you miss? Hate-filled spew? You just wish to be rid of this silence you determine, and slow down behind him with generous distance when you both finally approach the exit.

As the prince pulls simple wooden doors apart a great gust of salted air blows the loose hairs around your face with a horrible tickle and where you expect the sea, iron and blue flowers stare back instead. You and your golden prince look over some kind of solemn garden suspended under the moon.

Aldera is a lush green kingdom, Takoba is a portside merchant city. You know nature and fields and crops. This garden is man-made and more than that it is poorly kept. Metal flower beds, soil spilling over their lips from holes dug by birds or damage done by sea winds, and eerily, no weeds. Maybe the sea doesn’t carry weeds like rivers do? Only one type of sad blue flower wilting like a bell. The garden is at least as large as Aizawa’s training pit and filled with copies of the same bellflower weeping up trellises or littering the ground but still it feels vast and empty. Like a cemetery with no more plots to offer.

It’s only you two in the cliffside clearing, not a royal in sight. Who summoned him? Bakugou keeps his back to you while stepping between the garden beds and you wonder if he is unsettled too. You’re glad he does not watch you while you begin to wander.

By all calculations this path should have led to the sea but when you approach the precarious edge of the garden there is still a five story drop between you and high tide. The castle is built on a bluff above the beach. A foundation of rock. Below even that, black water stretches spindly fingers in the sand.

Who is this place for? On one side of you, Takoba Castle’s white spires reach into the now-night sky and on the other a deadly drop into the sea. A single type of flower planted over and over again into boxes that could hardly keep them alive. When you happen a glance between your feet, you’re startled by the movement you can see under them. Candles flickering inside a great many feet below you. A garden with a glass floor.

The air becomes suddenly thick with realization as you scan what parts of the clearing aren’t shadowed by clouds passing over the moon. The one door you came through and a steep drop off the edge with no railings. A single way in but decidedly two ways out. This is no garden.

“Hey.”

Something is trying to distract you. Had it not been just the two of you out here, you never would have registered the quiet voice drifting low through the breeze as Bakugou. Gentle? When you don’t turn around he rumbles soft again, “Eyes.”

His second words all week. The sound is warm wool. Bakugou is trying to speak with you and where surprise at his voice should make your heart race, something much more sinister has settled on your pulse. You are not listening, in fact you cut him off with a wave of your hand instead of turning at his shockingly soft cadence.

“Highness, who sent for you?” You demand delicately, back still turned as you skim the ruined garden. This place is meant to be a prison. You shouldn’t be here. Who is it supposed to keep in?

Had you been watching him, you would have caught the prince’s jaw slack and then coil tight again with your dismissal. He holds himself tenser and tenser.

“Highness–” You try again, but his voice, noticeably less gentle, cuts you off.

“Eyes, not n–” It’s your prince’s turn to try again, but this time you spin around to keep him quiet and take the upper hand.

“We have to leave.”

Suddenly you’re approaching him in the center of the garden, weaving over spilt soil and sad flowers faster than he is able to stop you coming closer, and you don’t yet know that there’s a reason he drifted so far away before trying to speak. You are too busy identifying blindspots to notice him curling inward from rage. All you register is his lack of haste and it compounds a preexisting fury in your bones. You can parse out your feelings about his words later, about the way he called to you, about his tenor, about a thousand things– later. Strong is the sea air tonight.

The distance you kept between his hands and your body this week vanishes under the circumstances and now you are so close you should smell the sweet of his ignition begin to drip in anger. Instead you watch shadows over his shoulder and pause in front of him, “Who summoned you?”

“Will you–”

“Highness who–”

“Quiet!”

Faster than immediately, somehow simultaneously, your body registers his threat that you are so practiced in withstanding and you take a steadying step back, no longer hiding your gaze from that which wants to kill you. Up, up, up is his shadowed face and those tiny shining suns that have done too good of a job until now, in protecting him.

The last time you watched each other like this you feared you might have to hurt him. He is a bit taller, he is much more beautiful than you. You wish you could have known him. It is only one terrible second before the shouting begins but in it is your prince’s final moments of softness, what might be fragility under the reds of his eyes, what looks like worry at the corners of his lips, washed over by crimson fumes like an eclipse or the death of a star.

“Highness–”

“Be quiet.”

But you have already had your fill of his golden cheeks and so you turn with your arm outstretched in the direction of the door, “We need to–”

“Are you fucking demented?” He growls. He does not budge. He stares and you no longer have the patience for him. It is slipping from you like sand.

“Walk and talk my prince, we have–”

“Excuse–?”

“Highness,” you hiss back at him and steady your hand on the hilt of your short sword.

You’ve pushed too far because oh how he bites the air now. He spits, “If you cannot–”

“I cannot–”

“– listen–” 

“Come, now.”

“You will listen when I speak.”

“You do not speak to me!” And how you bite back.

He rushes you.

The prince is threatening in the best of situations and when the wall of his body obliterates the space between you, your arms move faster than you’re able to control as they pull your sword from its scabbard. Bakugou flies against your blade as you raise it, pressing his own chest against the flat steel you keep up in defense. You hate to admit that he scares you.

“You will lose the fight you pick with me,” you murmur close enough to taste the air he breathes too close. He does not fight back or raise his hands and sparks do not come to life around you. At your back, Jeanist’s halberd itches to hunt.

“And you will lower your weapon.”

“I am your mother’s soldier, not yours.”

Bakugou bares his teeth to the realization that your obedience has only been a courtesy to this point. Pillowed chest to yours, you are close enough to feel the rumblings of his ribcage. Of his biceps as he holds them still at his sides like two great snakes that would like nothing more than to kill you. Dripping fists. You can see it in the tremble of his throat, his resisting a thousand things, screaming, flying, eating you alive, biting down into the meat of your neck that his lips brush as he bows into your blade– all at once like an implosion. What is he holding back?

“Then run back home to your queen.”

“You are my responsibility.”

“Oh yeah my hero,” he swells and pressed deeper, drawing blood, “my little captain–” The nickname from the night in the kitchens cracks the wax seal of your rage before it can even melt and in seconds you’re losing the fight to contain your ancient violence. Blade now cutting through his tunic and Bakugou still does not pull back. He does not raise his own weapon or his magic and his hands don’t reach for you. “Check that ego, Eyes.”

“I am doing my job!”

“You! The havoc wreaker, charged with my protection? Careful not to make me laugh Captain or I might just slit my throat.”

The threat oozing from this garden is as far as a thought has ever been from your mind while it is otherwise filled with curses. Could you kill him? You will bite through your tongue before holding it. Every time he calls you captain something inside heaves like the sea.

“Do you tire of torture?”

“You think yourself so special?”

“You are a beast!”

“You are insufferable!”

“You suffer my charity easily enough!” You almost want to wince at the shape your prince’s lips make when he remembers the weight of your earrings and he presses so deep into the curve of your body and blade that your foreheads bump in threat.

“Run away home.”

“You are not my queen and not my master.”

“And you are still Alderan!” He snaps sweet, “You are my responsibility!” Sparks come like tears to Bakugou’s eyes and his canines shine when he bares them to you, too close to see the details of his delicate face.  “I am your prince and she’s not here! She is not fighting for her life in Takoba– Fuck the queen!”

“You–!”

“You!”

“You are cruel!”

“And you are mine.”

Somehow the ocean falls. The world stops turning and at the words neither you nor your prince make a single sound.

His scowl melts to shock, jeweled eyes first slits and now wide under slack brows. Blade to his neck and still Bakugou’s hands do not crackle and your breath hardly comes when you need it, and you want to touch him– strike him– you think you might kiss him. You think he might let you, and then comes a voice from the sea.

“Get a room.”

In a shadowed corner of the glass garden your blue ghost bends at the waist to smell bellflowers. His hair is white.

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[blood-mocha-latte]

so i made a quiz a minute back and there was a question about my guinea pigs and a lot of people. followed up on that and wanted to know more lmao. AND if you've been here for even .5 seconds you are aware that i. love talking about my pets so let's get into it

i. Perdita Sue

name: -- perdita for 101 Dalmations (since she's black and white) -- sue for Sue Hendrickson (a world renowned paleontologist)

fun fact: as stated by the quiz she fucking. loves her water bottle. when she was a baby we were worried she had a blockage in her throat because she kept slamming it back against the wall of the hutch REALLY LOUDLY and her sister didn't do that. so we took her to the vet. nothings wrong. maybe it was just a thing when she was a baby no. no she just really fucking loves her water bottle and likes making it really loud

worst experience: she cut her paw open on a piece of hay when she was about a year and a half old and was bleeding SO FUCKING MUCH i almost missed a class final to stay home with her. she was fine lol

best experience: she likes to shake hands. i have a photo of this somewhere. if you put your hand down in the hutch she'll run over and put both her paws in your palm so you can "shake" them it's the funniest fucking thing

ii. Mei Rosalind

name: -- mei for my fiancee's middle name lmao (lenora-mei) -- rosalind for Rosalind Franklin (biochemist who discovered the structure of dna)

fun fact: again as in the quiz, she likes sunbeams. a whole fuckin' lot. like, too much. it was about noon and i walked into the room they're in and she was on her back. lil paws in the air. and i thought she was Fucking Dead but no. she was just sunbathing

worst experience: she once sneezed in my mouth and i thought i was gonna die

best experience: when i was studying for my organic chem final she slept on my desk the whole time and just generally kept me from Flipping The Desk and giving up lmao

iii. Meg Helen

name: -- meg for meg jay (clinical psychologist on adult development) -- helen for. helen keller. bc she's blind

fun fact: the only guinea pig we got from a pet store, who we weren't actually going to get. but she was curled up in the corner of a too small cage and was obviously miserable, so we ended up biting the bullet and adopting her. took her to the vet, vet told us she is The Most Blind Animal she has ever had the pleasure of meeting. take that as you will

worst experience: we got her when she was just a little over a week old and she had to be quarantined from the others. we ended up having to switch off and sit with her at night because she'd cry the whole time and she has the saddest fucking wheek

best experience: she has the croakiest voice of all time. we're pretty sure it's the same genetic inbreeding problems that made her blind, but it doesn't hurt her and it sounds Hilarious. when she finally got out of her quarantine hutch and to her real one (which is 45 feet squared lmao) she didn't stop popcorning and squeaking for fifteen minutes. i cried my fiancee cried i took a video and sent it to my parents and they cried it was a day

iv. Piper Florence

name: -- piper for the pied piper of war because she's the leader and the others follow after her like she's the. the pied piper -- florence for florence nightingale because again if you've been here for more than .5 seconds you know that i am a. healthcare bitch

fun fact: once jumped out of the hutch and then just stood in the middle of the room because she didn't know where to go. is Best Friends with meg and shows her where everything is in the hutch when we have to change it/replace objects. she does not like sue and ignores her. just doesn't like her there's nothing to be done

worst experience: we thought she had ovarian cancer about a year ago because she was lethargic/sick/swollen etc for a long period of time. tracking her poop what she ate all of that etc etc. turns out that she had a cyst which was still a fucking nightmare, but hey at least it wasn't cancer

best experience: when my fiancée got really sick a few years back piper would just sit on her chest and purr. it was cute and needed and she's fuckin BEEN there man she's basically our dog

anyways that's it. congratulations if you got through it all lmao. i also have four cats (i am. not good at fostering) and a dog so maybe i'll make a post about them idk. ok bye

[alltheyoungmoons]

The Gift pt. IV

13+ - Complete - Pt. I - Pt. II - Pt. III - 1.5k Words - ATYD Timeline Compliant

As much as Sirius hated being busy, his last semester at Hogwarts was so eventful that all the time he would’ve gladly dedicated to dilly-dallying was now the only time he had to actually study. And if Sirius didn’t have time to spare, he thought that Lily probably wished there could be 30 hours in a day, because she was the busiest girl on the planet, and they barely saw each other outside of class or meals. This meant that the Bespectacles had been quietly sitting in Lily’s trunk waiting to be tested until just a couple of days before the 10th of March, when Lily burst into the Marauder’s dorm during an individual study period, grinning madly.

“Black! Are you decent?” She swung the door open, peeking through the fingers she had raised over her eyes.

“Godrick, Evans, what happened to knocking?” He admonished her, rolling on his back quickly. He was not about to be found lying belly down on the bed, kicking his legs in the air like a schoolgirl by Lily Evans. He was also secretly peeved by the fact that he was not only decent, but was also studying. Remus had refused to bunk off Care of Magical Creatures, leaving Sirius alone with his Divination textbook.

“They work!” Lily sang, approaching Sirius and Remus’s bed. She produced the wiry pair of reading glasses from her robe pocket “They work! I was patrolling with Christopher Barley the other night and he told me about a Hufflepuff first year in Moony’s study group who was having trouble only with theory stuff and never practical magic - like Remus in first year! Chris was asking at what age muggle schools teach people to read…anyway, I figured this boy, Fionn, and Remus must have the same problem!” She was starting to run out of breath “I tracked him down and had him try them on, they work! He could read! Poor love was stunned, didn’t know what was going on.” She chuckled breathlessly. 

Sirius was elated, and offered her a genuine, warm smile. He knew Lily would’ve figured it out in the end. Now there was only one last thing to do. 

“That’s great, Lily, you fox” he extended a hand “Now give them here, we can’t have Moony sporting the same glasses as my great-great-grandfather Betelgeuse”

Lily sniggered and handed him the pair. Sirius was now sitting cross-legged on the bed, the glasses resting on the open textbook before him. 

He had thought long and hard about which style to give them, and he had finally settled on a pair that he saw in a photo of that muggle actor, Robert Redford. He looked so hot in those glasses. Sirius visualised them in his mind and tapped the Bespectacles gently with his wand: in a moment they had muted to the form he had envisioned. Lily gasped under her breath.

Sirius looked up at her with a big grin and handed them back. The redhead squeezed him in a hug and gave him a peck on the cheek, and fluttered outside. 

***

The next Friday was, finally, Moony’s birthday. Sirius woke him early with a surprise snog, before James and Peter got up, as they were sure to jump on the bed to greet the birthday boy, as it was tradition. He wanted to have Remus all for himself before he had to share him with everyone else for the next twenty-four hours. They kissed quietly for a long time, remaining almost immobile, holding hands under the pillows. They then heard James’ familiar footsteps and broke apart, smiling and bracing themselves for the attack. 

After the usual birthday rituals, the yelling, chanting and exchanging of gifts, the boys got ready for breakfast; it was a school day after all. Sirius gave him a year supply of chocolate frogs, but that was only a preliminary gift; he wanted to give him his true present later, when they where alone. 

The next time Sirius caught Remus on his own was before dinner, when he got back to the dorm to change out of his uniform. The tall boy was lying supine on their bed, feet dangling out of the bed frame, his arm stretched over his head, holding a book. Typical Moony. 

“Sirius!” He called, bolting straight up in a sitting position. 

“Hey, handsome” Sirius smiled, slyly. He noticed a gold gleam around Remus’ eyes. Ah, Lily must’ve given him her present. 

“Look!” The other boy exclaimed. Sirius sat down on the edge of the bed beside him, and looked up at his boyfriend’s lightly freckled face. 

“Don’t you look half distinguished, Professor Lupin” he teased, planting a kiss on Remus’ perpetually chapped lips. “Where are these from?” He asked, nonchalantly. He had decided to let Lily take all the credit after all, so now he had to pretend to be surprised, hoping to be convincing. He'd never been a good liar. 

“They were Lily’s present! She expanded on the reading aid she made me in second year and somehow turned it into glasses! This way it’s much more discreet and practical.” Remus was beaming. Discreet and practical was Moony to a T, if you didn’t know him better. 

“That’s amazing” Sirius nodded. He studied Remus’ face with this new addition, after hours of daydreaming. Overall the large frame complemented his long face very well, and the square-ish shape of the lenses suited him. They were gold-plated, which caught the flecks of amber in his eyes and made them stand out even more. The colour of the metal went perfectly with his slightly tanned skin tone and light brown curls. They had a double bridge which rested over the dent of the scar on his nose, hiding it slightly. He thought Moony might’ve appreciated that. 

Sirius caught his hazel eyes, which were now examining him from behind the lenses. He was smirking wickedly.

“I don’t think you’ve ever been quiet for this long,” he said in that low voice that made his chest vibrate, and Sirius’ insides twisted in the best way.

 “I don’t think you’ve ever looked this fit,” Sirius replied, dazed. Who knew glasses could be this sexy? This was a revelation - why hadn’t he thought of this before?

“They’re really doing it for you, huh?” Remus chuckled, raising his head a bit, but careful to not break the spell that was passing between them. Sirius blushed and Remus laughed, casually pushing the glasses up his nose. He was already picking up those small automatic gestures James had, only in a devastatingly hotter, more charming way. Sirius swallowed dryly. 

“To think I was worried you’d think I looked like a sodding swot” Remus continued, tantalising. They both knew James and Peter were due back any minute, so it was incredibly dangerous to keep flirting like this, but it was so hard to resist.

“Oh but you are a swot Moony, you just also happen to be superbly good-looking.” 

Remus finally closed the distance between them, grinning against Sirius’ mouth. Sirius found himself quickly out of breath as Remus moved to hover over him, and he lay down propping himself on his forearms, careful to not lay down all the way, or it’d be the end of him. They kissed for a long time, and once Remus’ glasses slid down his nose bumping into Sirius, so he gently pushed them up to place them over the boy’s head, his curls getting stuck in them, all the while still kissing, and he peeked with one eye and stifled a moan, he could not believe how these stupid glasses had him under their figurative thumb. Sirius sighed, and could feel that Remus was still smiling, trying to move closer. He knew he ought to stop him before they ended up flashing poor Petey again, but he found he now had the willpower of a Flobberworm and did not care, laying down, slackening his tie and starting to work on Remus’s shirt buttons…

Suddenly, Remus froze and looked up, nostrils twitching. His lips were now pink and shiny, no more chapped and purple from the furious nervous biting.  Sirius was looking at him with a desperate sort of wanting, wishing they could apparate literally anywhere else and finish what they started. He didn’t even realise he was nervously twisting one of his charcoal curls on his index finger. Remus looked down at him and raised an amused eyebrow. 

“Sorry Pads, they’re coming up now,” he said gently, putting his glasses back on and reaching for his book. Sirius puffed and closed his eyes, relishing the feeling that was burning in him. He was learning that patience could be quite a virtue, on that front. 

“Who’s ready for a par-tayyy” James bellowed swinging the door open, Peter in tow. He glanced at the two boys laying nonchalantly on the bed, their ears still red and cheeks flushed, and sniggered.

“My my my Moony, you look quite fetching in those glasses” He winked. “Welcome to the club”.

------ 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝒹 ------

Ok here it is! This was my first actual fic so let me know what you think. I didn't have a plan it just sort of came out building off of the bespectacled!Remus hc that is near and dear to my heart. If you have thoughts/suggestions/requests for me just shoot me an ask! I'd love to use this as an outlet to practice my fiction writing :)

[nucleo-bang-tan]

The Uisa's Daughter | Chapter 11: Her Unfriendly Friend.

Pairing/s: Kim Taehyung X Reader, Future!Jeon Jungkook X Reader, Slight!Min Yoongi X Reader

Genre: Medieval Korea AU, Mystery, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Smut

Rating/s: 18+ Mature Themes

Warning/s: blood, violence against a child, Yoongi following reader everywhere (I mean everywhere), sneaking out, exhibitionism (kind of), squirting, choking, sex on the grass (fertilizer oop), piggyback ride, pet names, a shock at the end ╥﹏╥

Summary: In the 1700s, the Jeon Dynasty spread all across the Korean peninsula.  Happiness quadrupled with the founder Emperor's presence, or so it seemed. Secrets scattered over the palace in the capital city, Hanseong were known to none except a few.

Chapter Summary: Turns out your new bodyguard isn't that bad. Your lover still wants to prove himself but he's not your lover for long.

A/n: This is just a filler i guess. And if you can't guess what the italicized sentences are... well, can't help you.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Prologue Teaser Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Good morning, child. Who might you be?" The older lady inquired lovingly.

Your 5-year-old self was lingering around the palace courtyard after your father had asked you not to bother him while he conversed with the Emperor.

You had caught sight of a small pup and followed it all the way to where you were now.

The aforementioned lady wore her pitch-black hair in an updo, which you were sure couldn't be replicated on your short hair. Her smile reminded you of a bunny. Everything down to her hanbok was beautiful, it was decorated with embroidered pink flowers.

You looked at the canine skipping towards the said lady. "Father told me to not talk to strangers. I am sorry, I must take my leave."

The woman watched you, amused as you tried to navigate back to the King's private study.

Reluctantly, you asked, "I am not talking to you but could you lead me to the King's study?"

"Oh, but you are talking to me, aren't you?"

"This does not count. I am asking you directions." You pouted.

"See, you talked to me now!" The lady laughed.

You grew frustrated and began to burst into tears.

The woman panicked, "No, I am no stranger, honey."

"W-Who are you?" Your naive self asked the person who claimed to know you.

"I am the King's wife. I have known you since you were a tiny infant." She smiled and bent down to lift you up.

You gasped, "The Queen?"

Her melodious laughter once again filled the courtyard, "Don't be afraid, dear. I am here to introduce you to someone."

She pointed to a pillar. What you didn't fail to notice was a kid, likely 5 years older than you, peeking his head full of obsidian black hair and glancing at you with his doe-like brown eyes.

"He has been meaning to speak with you but he is quite timid." She said, gesturing for the older kid to come out from his not-so-obscure place, "This is my son."

Her son walked slowly, eyes catching everything but your own, and came to a halt where the two of you stood.

She set you on your feet and placed a caring hand on both of your heads, "I'll leave you both to it then. Ask Eunuch Kang if you need anything."

You turned to him. Surprisingly, he didn't carry himself as a prince. You assumed he had a lot of pride inherited from his father but he looked simple and humble much like his mother.

"Do you want to play with Bam?" He asked being unsure of himself.

"That's Bam?" You asked pointing your finger at the pup who decided to run in circles around the little prince.

"Yes, mother brought him for me. She says it's good to grow up with pets, although, father says the opposite."

The prince picked the dog up and carried it close to his chest. You playfully tickled Bam.

The royal chuckled, "How are you so tiny?"

"Uh, because Bam is a puppy. I think you should know that." You stated snappily.

"No silly, I am talking about you. I suppose the same logic applies to you?" He teased as you frowned.

The two of you played around a lot that fine day. Annoying the chefs by sneakily taking a few sweets, earning a sigh from the gardener as the prince picked out a few flowers for you to wear, and testing the durability of the guards' armors.

He showed you around the palace, which he was sure you'd forget. Unbeknownst to him, you were relatively smarter and mapped your way back to the study where your father and the King were chatting.

You looked out the window, the sun had already set, which meant your father and you would return home.

"I see you have met the little prince." The King laughed. It echoed around the high ceilings of the room. It was not anything like the Queen's beautiful laugh, rather, it was quite scary.

He patted his lap, which meant that he demanded you to sit on it. You had no choice but to do what delighted him. Of course, your father would prefer to stay silent, if he cared, that is.

The prince, in contrast to his father's expression, held an angered one. He held your wrist to stop you, "Stop, don't feed into his disgusting thoughts."

"What did you say you insolent boy?" The Emperor rose from his chair, the force tumbling it over.

Before you could process anything, you heard a loud thud followed by blood being strewed on your face followed by another thud.

The King had punched the poor prince so forcefully that his ring pierced through his soft skin and left his cheek bleeding. The young lad was rendered unconscious by this blow.

"I should not find you with that boy, under any circumstances, is that clear?" Your father cut your line of sight.

"Leave me alone with my son, I need to teach him a lesson." The King fumed from his wrath.

"No, no-" You finally came to your senses and when you did, you were bawling your eyes out.

"What did you do? Wake up....." You realized you didn't even know his name.

It was you who woke up instead. Panting, covered in a sheen of sweat. It was that dream again.

You weren't sure if it was a dream or a memory being played back to you. But you had had this dream a couple of times, and every time you did, you remembered every single detail.

You groan remembering last night. You fought with your father for not trusting you. You were sure he wouldn't hit you for your insolence because he had a reputation to uphold in front of Min Yoongi.

Speaking of Min Yoongi, he was supposed to follow your every step and protect you. Oh, but how could you forget the most important thing, report things back to your father and the King.

You chuckled bitterly, this was going to be very difficult. You had gotten so used to Taehyung being around, that it would be practically unbearable for you to be without him. A few days, sure, but we were talking about an indefinite amount of time.

A firm knock pulled you out of your thoughts. You didn't recognise this knock.

"I suppose you're up by now?" A voice asked from behind the metal-wood door.

"You can come in, I have no solitude in this household." You replied.

Min Yoongi entered the room with a bright face somehow; even when his cat-like eyes still gave a dark expression.

"Good morning, kitten." He chimed.

You gave a clear sham smile, "Good morning, indeed, now that you are here."

"That attitude will take you places, I am positive."

"Please, do not bother me."

"Its afternoon, Hoseok told me to invite you to the dining room for lunch." He was on first name basis with your chef already?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You sat under your favourite tree in the garden reading a medicine journal that your father gave you to memorise. Usually you would love something like this, but today was not usual.

Min Yoongi stood in the sun 'guarding you', probably getting a sun stroke, or probably not, just because he was so fit. He probably had a lot of days where he trained in the sun.

"You do know, I am perfectly safe in my own home, Mr Min."

"Wouldn't want you to die, that would be a sad story to tell." He replied snarkily.

"Like I said..." You continued being ever-so-slightly annoyed, "I am safe in my house, you can have a chat with Mr Jung or some other thing."

"No, I'd rather watch you." He smiled lopsidedly.

You huffed in pure annoyance. You weren't going to bear any of this. You strutted through the hallways with him following close behind you. Finally reaching the kitchen, you called out for your best friend.

"Mr Jung? May I speak with you?"

Hoseok wasn't shocked, he knew this was inevitable. He sighed, "I am not going to keep Yoongi busy for you."

This was going to be very difficult.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You looked at the sun's position, it was almost time for you to meet Taehyung near the river. You weren't going to tolerate your new bodyguard stopping you or even catching you whilst you went to meet your lover.

"Mr Min?" You asked closing your journal and catching the attention of the man blankly staring at the sky.

"What is it, kitten?"

"I wish to take a bath." You said dusting your hanbok.

"I don't believe I will be the one to bath you." He raised his eyebrows.

You sighed, "Well, you could atleast go and ask the maids to prepare a bath for me?"

Yoongi was perpetually tired of standing in the sun and figured it would be best if he went under some shade, even if it was for a while. So he agreed and went to go look for your maids inside the house.

This was the ideal time to sneak out. One last glance at your bodyguard and you were already inching slowly towards the gates of the establishment you were supposed to call 'home'.

Yoongi was stumped, he didn't know where to find the maids. So he decided to ask his only friend about it.

Entering the kitchen he asked, "Hey, Hoseok-ssi, Y/N wishes to take a bath. Where are th-"

"You left her by herself?" Hoseok asked in distress.

"Don't worry. She's in the garden."

"No, no, no. You can't leave her alone at this hour!"

"What do you mean?" Yoongi was now alarmed.

"She may slip out of the house!" Yoongi wasted no time in hastening back to the garden.

Surely enough, you were no where to be seen. He immediately rushed out of the house to see you steadily close the gates.

"Y/N!"

Alright, now seemed like a perfect time to panic and run. And that's what you did. You didn't dare to look back at him and assumed he was chasing you.

You were very wrong to think you could outrun an exceptionally healthy man in his late 20s. It was quite effortless for him to grab your arm and turn you around.

"Well, caught you, kitten."

You squirmed and tried your very best to get out of his grip much to no avail.

"Where were you leaving to, huh?" The man who caught you, asked.

"I don't suppose you have any business knowing of it." You spat.

"Oh, I do. Your father will be informed of this." He said tugging you back inside the property.

"No, fuck no. I beg you, anything but that." You tried to free your wrist from his grasp.

"Careful with your language, kitten. And your father will know of it."

"I'll tell you!" This made Yoongi stop in his tracks and look at you, "I'll tell you where I was headed to, if you don't tell my father."

He scoffed.

"Please, I'll do anything. Don't let him know."

"Anything?" He smirked. You gulped knowing well that he could have ulterior motives. But you still nodded.

"Take me there. Take me where you were headed."

"What?" Was all you could say. You didn't want him to discover Taehyung. The fear of what Yoongi might possibly tell the King almost had you shivering.

"I won't even mention of this to anyone as promised. Not your father, not the stupid King."

"How could talk of the Emperor like that?" You whispered checking around you if there were any ears.

"I have heard the stories; of what he makes you do. Don't act so loyal, I know you hate him too."

"You work for him!"

"I don't work for anyone, I work for the money." He said, nonchalant. "So take me there."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were at the rendezvous point, the lake-side forest where Taehyung had always asked you to meet him. But today, unfolded a quite peculiar scene.

You could see the annoyance seething from Taehyung. Who was this unnamed man and why was he brought to the secret meet-up point?

You stood between your lover and your bodyguard who at once decided to enter into a staring contest with each other.

You tried clearing your throat to grab their attention and possibly break the staring spree much to no avail.

"Taehyung, this is Min Yoongi, my bodyguard." You tried to break the silence.

Taehyung smirked, "Nice to meet you, Yoongi."

The other man scoffed, "And you are?"

"I'm Taehyung, her lo-"

You cut him off, "My friend! This is Taehyung, my friend."

Taehyung held your hand reassuringly, "Y/n's lover." He stated.

You groaned with disbelief. You knew well that this would be directly reported to the King in some way even when Yoongi said he wouldn't.

"Fine by me." Yoongi shrugged, "I'm just here to protect her."

Taehyung speaks with a certain weight on his words, "I don't think, I'm the one you need to worry about, Min Yoongi."

Yoongi doesn't press or question anything because he somehow knew he was alluding to King Jeon and your own father.

"Why did you bring him here, again? Taehyung questions you.

"I just told her, I would inform her father of her failed attempt to sneak out." Yoongi speaks.

Taehyung narrowed his eyes and let out a chuckle. He walked behind you and wrapped his arms protectively around your waist making you blush profusely at the display of affection in front of someone else.

Placing his chin on your shoulder he looked at Yoongi and said, "I can never let anyone, and I mean anyone interfere between us." Taehyung says as if stating a law.

"Never said I wished to interfere." Yoongi backed away and decided to stand guard a few meters away with his back facing the both of you.

As soon as Yoongi turned his back towards you, Taehyung placed a kiss on your neck, while rocking you side to side slightly.

"Taehyung!" You whispered, blushing more at your lover's affection.

Taehyung hummed in response as he buried his face further in the crook of your neck.

"We can't do this right now, Mr. Min is right there!"

"Do you remember what I told you about men? None of them have a pure mind, Yoongi is no exception. I can see that he fancies you."

"Taehyung, I don't adore him like that at all."

"I know you don't, but I want to let him know you belong to me."

"What are you suggesting?" You asked, still whispering.

He turned you around and without wasting a second, kissed you.

His kisses were always, tender yet passionate but today? They were possesive, as if he was trying to prove himself worthy of you. You couldn't help but moan slightly into the kiss.

" That's right, Y/n. Let him know." Taehyung pulled away, "I want you to moan as loud as you can." He requested.

He laid you down onto the grass, soft beneath you as Taehyung's hands explored your quiet, yet submissive body.

His lips found yours, and you responded with a shy gasp, heart racing under his tender touch as he gently parted your thighs.

Taehyung's hands roamed over your comparitively petite frame, teasing your sensitive spots through the thick fabric of your hanbok.

He knew how dumb you got for his cock. He knew you would let him do this. But he wasn't all shameless, he just pulled his pants and undergarments down slightly, just enough to pull his length out.

"Come on, Y/n. I know you want it. Ask for it."

"I- please, Taehyung." You whispered.

His hands found their way to your neck, applying a slight yet firm pressure; something you figured Taehyung enjoyed a lot. You weren't complaining because your neck fit so snug in his grip. The power dynamic made you gush.

"It's not me that needs to hear it, it's him. So louder. Let him know how much you crave me being inside you."

You tilted your head just enough to peek at Yoongi. He wasn't looking and didn't seem like he had any intentions to. But you could see him shifting his weight from leg to leg, which he never did before.

Yoongi seemed impatient.

"Say it, Y/n." Taehyung urged.

You took a breath and said in a voice that was just enough to let Yoongi hear without an issue, "Please... Taehyung. I want you."

You could see Yoongi's breath hitching as he got more impatient.

With one swift motion, Taehyung pulled the skirt of your hanbok down just enough to reveal your glistening pussy for him. Both of your footwear long gone.

He smirked, "Does this make you wet? Your bodyguard being a few meters away from us while I fuck you?"

You nod, a gesture that seemed way too cute to Taehyung.

He leaned down and kissed you after muttering a quick, "God, I love you so much." His kiss was still possesive.

You jutted your hips upwards and whined, "Taehyung, please. I want you inside of me."

He chuckled, "Yeah? I shall give what my queen needs."

With those words, he pushed his length inside of you entirely. The intrusion made you roll your eyes as Taehyung had to hold himself up. The pleasure, heck, the feeling of being so close was too much for the both of you.

Over the time, you had realized that Taehyung was much more than an ordinary farmer's boy who just happened to be handsome.

Your lover had secrets, he somehow knew every happening and every dark event that the aristocrats hid.

The rebellious son of the Cha family? Taehyung knew that he didn't just disappear, it was his father who had sent him off, disowned him.

The daughter of Hwang household? She got pregnant before her marriage resulting in her 'untimely death.'

You knew Taehyung had to be involved with these high class people somehow.

A particularly harsh pull on your bottom lip by the aforementioned man got you back to the present.

"Are you alright, princess?" He asked. No matter how rough he got, he always asked if you were alright.

"Please move..."

He slowly pulled his length halfway out only to thrust it back in. "How are you so tight? I assumed that I had fucked you enough."

Taehyung's brown eyes were filled with determination, an urge to prove himself where he didn't need to.

He fondled your breasts through the thick fabric of your top. His hips snapped into yours, slowly yet powerfully.

"T-Tae.."

"Yes, princess? Do you want more?"

"Please faster." You shut your eyes, the pleasure almost bringing you over the edge.

His hips picked up pace and the sound of your skin slapping was too obvious to not be heard by Yoongi.

But this wasn't close enough for Taehyung, he wished to be deeper inside of you. He lifted your legs and put them over his shoulders. You knew Taehyung loved to try new things and you loved them just as well.

You could feel the tip of Taehyung's dick brushed against your cervix at this angle. Your moans became more and more erratic.

When you did open your eyes, you saw a man, you saw someone you loved so much that it hurt being away from him. His tan skin reflecting the setting sun perfectly and his fully set on yours.

His hair was stuck to his forehead due to the sweat and you couldn't help but reach out and touch his cheek.

At that very moment, a gush of fluid. The pleasure was so intense you blacked out for a quick second.

You had never read about this, probably because the female body wasn't explored or documented much.

Taehyung looked down, you had just squirted on his cock. "Shit, that was so, so beautiful. Princess, I love you."

Taehyung had experienced this before, but never with you.

You were tired and Taehyung could sense that. He wasn't too far behind on coming deep into your womb.

"You did so well, my love." He placed his forehead against yours, nose rubbing against yours.

"I love you, Taehyung." You muttered, being way too tired.

"I love you more than you think." He pecked your lips before helping you pull up your skirt. "You can rest now." He caressed your hair.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taehyung carried you on his back to the edge of the forest. You were asleep.

Yoongi walked besides him. The two men had clear distaste towards each other but decided to keep quiet about it.

"I know you love her, but how long do you plan on continuing this exactly?" Yoongi asked.

"Till my last breath. Even then, I would not go to the afterlife. I'll stay on this Earth as a spirit." Taehyung said, stopping before just before the exit of the forest. He couldn't carry you further in the open.

"The King, do you know how much he wants her?" The older man asked.

"I do, but I would never let him get her."

Yoongi scoffed, "That useless man would stop at nothing to have her."

Taehyung's ears perked at the disrespect towards the ruler. He smirked knowing Yoongi was possibly on his side.

"I heard you were the King's son, the prince's half brother. Is that true?" Taehyung inquired.

"Yeah, I may or may not be."

"Listen to me, Min Yoongi. The King needs to be killed, tortured even. He has never treated Y/n kindly." Taehyung stated.

"You don't know his power."

Taehyung and Yoongi started yet another battle of staring.

"I don't care." Taehyung replied snarkily.

"Let me just tell you this, Kim Taehyung. King Jeon is going to marry her and it's going to be soon." Yoongi sighs.

"What do you mean by that?" Taehyung knew this was more than just a hollow warning to him.

He tensed up and his grip on your thighs tightened, making you stir.

"Taehyung?"

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You and Yoongi had walked towards the Kim household and you got home before your father did, as always.

After dinner you asked Yoongi to follow you to your room. And he did as you said, sitting on the floor of your room in a seiza stance.

You sat in front of him, "You don't have to sit so formally, you know."

"I know I don't need to, but I want to."

"I am sorry." You bowed to him, head on the floor.

Yoongi tried to stay nonchalant when he asked you the reason.

"Taehyung can be a bit too much at times." You say raising your head. "I know you heard us and it may not have been pleasant. But know, that I meant no disrespect."

He chuckled, "I know you didn't, kitten. But he sure did."

You smile at the light heartedness.

But you could hear footsteps from the other side of the door.

It was a habit you had picked up since your parents never gave you any kind of privacy. They never knocked or asked before entering. The way your father walked, the soft creaks of the wooden floor, everything was etched into your memory.

Their footsteps were the only indicator that they were entering your room.

And you proved yourself right when your father opened the door without any second thought.

He frowned looking at the both of you. "I see, you have told her."

"Not yet, Mr. Kim." Yoongi replied.

"Ah, not yet? Well, do tell her. She needs to leave tomorrow morning."

"Tell me what, father?" You asked.

He looked extremely worried, "Yoongi, please do tell her. I'll leave you two to it." Saying this he closed the door and left. The soft creaks slowly fading.

"Well?" You asked.

Yoongi couldn't bring enough courage to look into your eyes, "I don't have a choice, do I?"

Yoongi sighed, "The King found out that your father is a spy for the enemy."

You would have laughed if Yoongi wasn't so serious. Your father and King Jeon were extremely close.

So close that at times, your father forgot that you were his daughter and let the King hold you in front of him.

"What are you talking about?" You tilt your head in confusion.

"Mr. Kim has been working undercover for the past 25 years."

"He had married my mother more than 20 years ago. And he had me as well. Do you even know what you are suggesting?"

Yoongi clenched his jaw, "Marrying your mother and having you was just a part of his plan. King Jeon doesn't take kindly to treason."

Your face felt numb and you seemed that you couldn't breath at the information.

Maybe you were just dreaming and your mind was playing weird tricks on you. But the pain in your chest signified that it was real.

"What do you- what do you mean?" You asked.

"The King gave Mr. Kim two choices."

He paused for a while.

"Let the King marry you, or he publicly executes both of your parents for treason."

You held your head in your hands trying to process it all. This was real, this was happening and you were in the present.

"I am going to let you guess what your father chose."

[solitary-cutie]

Darkness to our light. Part II

Part I

Part III

Part IV

prompt: you and coriolanus are married, it's unbearable for you, but it will all end soon

contains: dark, manipulative, controlling coriolanus. fem!reader.

And so you are sitting in the living room waiting for the only person ypu could talk to - the piano teacher. Sharing with desire to continue your once neglected studies, Coryo did not fail to fulfill whim of his better half and help Her. He would always help, even without asking. No matter if you needed this intervention. He would spend all the money on your wants without even mentioning it, as if forgetting, deliberately ignoring any checks in the stores, but you clearly knew that this wastefulness was another yoke around your neck, because one should be grateful. Especially if the checks came in the mail, and the history of purchases served him in calculating the spending for the month.

“Hello. Hey, you guys quiet today? Helpers’s a bit tense today. Not even tea! Can you believe it? Didn't offer! - The teacher laughed, putting out a folder with notes, a pencil, an eraser and an orange leather notebook from her bag on the snow-white piano.”

“Oh yes, He's planning a dinner party, everyone's getting ready. He's inviting coworkers, his sister. He's looking forward to the promotion.”

“Oh, wow. Who's coming from yours?”

You didn't say anything, was ashamed of yourself. “No, it is his night.” Silence. “Maybe you'll come?” Open hope in the voice of her student, almost her age.

“When? I had plans, but I'd stop by.”

“It starts at 7:00. I'll be waiting, you know! You can come when it's convenient for you.”

A weightless touch, as if you'd brushed something off the back of her hand. You ran your eyes around the room. He's not home. The teacher softened.

“Okay, I'll try.” She finally sits down on a nearby chair. “Come on, show me how you've been practicing. Have you tried to put both hands together yet?”

“I tried, but no luck.”

“Did you play the metronome?”

“Yeah, I got more confused.”

“All right, I'll do the math. Go ahead. E-e-e, one and, two and--“

The game began, with mistakes and quick, hurried edits.

“You've changed.” Said the teacher, stopping counting out the rhythm, because the student was already helping herself with the silent movement of her lips.

“He says the same thing to me.” She chorused the rhythm.

“You're not so much flirtatious, laughing. The author's depression? When was the last time you sat down at the pen?” She smiled.

“I miss it. Okay, wait, what's the best way to play this? I forgot.”

The teacher intercepted her hands and began playing the obscure part, counting out the rhythm aloud with intonation highlighting that "And three, And four, And one...".

“You're unhappy.”

“No, why?”

“That's not a question. I can recommend a psychologist, the best woman I know. She helped me let go of my resentments.”

“I'm not resentful.”

“Teach you to love yourself, so you don't deny those resentments, but accept them. Appreciate yourself, don't deny being alone, but accept being one with yourself. You are not alone, know you can walk away from where you want to walk away from.” The teacher did not realize how she had pushed the piano aside and how she had moved on to passionate speeches. She had been spared the resentment, but not the desire to save.

You looked around the room again out of habit.

“At least he doesn't hit you?”

“No, God, of course not.” You caught the doubt in her eyes and a second frown furrowed her brow. “No, seriously, I wouldn't stand for that. I'm not leaving him. I can't.”

“There's no word for "can't."

“I mean, what dictionary can I give you to back that up? I don't even want to leave. We are one and the same, and he won't just let me go. The only way I'm getting out of here is with my feet up. If I'm lucky and he dies before I do, I'll have a few years of pleasure.” She smiled, starting the composition from the beginning.

“In the left hand hurry a little. And how can you reason like that about a man you're married to? And if the children come, what will you do?”

“The later they come, the better, God forbid now.”

“Does he want them now?”

You hesitated, not stopping the game. It was embarrassing. Again.

“Well he hasn't talked about them yet, though I don't know how he plans to.”

“So even your body doesn't belong to you? You don't talk about your plans, not your plans, but his.”

“My soul doesn't even belong to me. Look, my arms are tired, can I take a little break?” Nod. “What's the best way to pedal here?”

“First learn to control both hands.”

Silence.

You wonder if you could call it a pun. If your body and even the imperishable substance of your being belongs to your husband, a white-haired angel raised in hell and invited into the ether of paradise, a world of powerful, fully-endowed people, will you be able to control what you lost access to on the date that the calendar refers to as the "Anniversary of Dating"?

The remaining hour of class passed in silence, resulting in the learning of a new sonata, even with the use of a pedal to stretch the sound, giving it a smooth flow from one bar to the next.

“I have a question here: when will you finally learn the bass clef? Will you stop signing notes?” The teacher mocked, marking in the diary the next lesson for January.

“It's a rhetorical question.” You looked at the Interlocutor. “Oh man, I don't like that bass clef, I can't memorize it. The only thing I know is what the C note looks like. That's it.”

“Don't forget the "B."

“Oh yeah, and then..." She made a long road to nowhere with her hand.

“And then let the Snow land on top.” He stood at the white archway that opened the living room, leaning lightly against the blue wall with gilded patterns and trees.

You shuddered, nerves to no avail, you were easily frightened, which could not be said of your teacher, - a girl strong-willed. Nevertheless, the fright laid a heavy stone on her heart, sinking it into her heels, and she dropped her pencil and, looking at him confusedly, hurried to pick it up.

“I didn't mean to disturb you, much less frighten you.” The ice-cold eyes flashed over each of the girls, burning their insides with cold.

Coriolanus knew you were partial to this pianist. From the first time you met her, He had noticed the glint in your eyes. Gross, He didn't approve of it, but He also knew it was certainly not worth worrying about. You amuse yourself as best you can from lack of socialization with Him. Yes, maybe you complain about Him, suffer, but you won't leave Him because you don’t want to. These reflections might have reassured Him if He had once experienced a semblance of even doubt, let alone anxiety.

“Ginny, my wife and I are organizing a dinner party tonight. We'd love for you to come.” His eyes darted to you, looking at your teacher. What will you do? If you start coaxing her “friend”, this conversation never happened between you, but if you walk up to Him and...

“What a great idea!” You whispered, flying up to your husband and hugging him by the forearm. He smiles, it all became clear, you had already invited her, but was it scary to ask Him? “I was afraid to invite Ms. Ring because of the possibility of rejection.”

Now you are on His side, snuggling up to Him to get hers. Manipulative. And who are you trying to bend to your will is unclear.

“Yes, of course, thank you for the invitation, I'd love to come. But I'm afraid I'm busy, so I won't be able to make it to the beginning of the evening.”

“I didn't tell you the time, in case you get there.”

You both looked at each other. The pianist was confused.

“Dinner starts at 6:00 or 7:00 in the evening. Ms. Ring apparently skips a lot of dinner.” She tried to put the question into an impromptu justification for the two of them, but it came out badly. The answer to his line didn't work anyway.

“It starts at seven o'clock, but knowing some of the guests, they'll be a little later.” He looked at his wife. “Play the new composition you've learned for me.”

“We haven't played it all the way through yet. We need time.”

“Play it.” Demand…