#but this was probably a consequence of nobody being able to get jeans that actually fit

[ocean-again]

also gonna be real, as someone who was a teenager wearing mostly all black a normal number of years ago, I never personally Saw a scene kid (or an hipster for that matter) like they felt like a myth somebody in California was making up.

where I was growing up anyways, emo was the more mainstream/accessible form of this look because you could get black clothes at goodwill or JC penny's and then throw on a bunch of safety pins and the few accessories you could afford from hot topic with it so that's what we did.

like, I'd see sparkle wolf OC's and pictures of people doing the scene hair, but that shit would have been an expensive look you couldn't just do at home with boxed hair dye from the grocery store, and the punk kids would have called you a poser for doing it.

it is so wild to me the fashions that are called “emo” today. especially given the fact that probably 80-90% of it is actually scene, not emo. this would have started full on wars 15 years ago

[drxwsyni]

Petrified (pt. 8)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: OOOOH THINGS ARE STARTING TO GET INTERESTING. Now that we’ve set this up, expect each chapter to be VERY yandere. I know it’s been pretty chill for like half of the series, but not anymore! I’m really excited to write the later chapters, cause I think the twists are gonna be pretty good lol. Anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy the new part!

A huge thanks to @yanderart for beta reading this part <3. Also, ty to @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart (again lol), @shorkbrian and @sawamooora for helping me brainstorm. I suck at writing smut big time and you guys rlly helped me flesh everything out. Love y’all <3

*Sidenote*: Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist!

5.6k words

Warnings: Dubcon, threesome, dumbification, recreational use of drugs and alcohol, coercion, gaslighting, implied stalking, ambiguous implied themes

“I think this calls for some drinks, whaddya say princess?”

Hizashi was already rising from his spot on the couch before you could answer. Making his way into the kitchen, he quickly disappeared from your line of sight to fix up whatever concoction of alcohol he sought fit.

Much to your appreciation, neither of the two heroes had pressured you just yet into discussing your agreement from a mere few days ago. Thursday morning had passed by in a blur, and to nobody’s surprise, you continued with business as usual.

And what seemed to be a recurring factor in your life as of late―luck was never quite on your side.

You made it out of the work week by the skin of your teeth. Between a surplus of particularly unruly customers, and the burden of your own conscience, catching a break was an unobtainable reprieve. Anyone in their right mind would’ve looked at you and told you to stay home. To cancel your dinner date with Shouta and Hizashi, and promptly treat yourself to some much needed slumber. But you were everything but in your right mind as of late.

Not a moment went by where you didn’t question yourself. Part of you alarmed in the need for rest, the other wanting to keep going. Unsure of whether you were just overreacting, or if the voice in the back of your head telling you to run and never look back from the two actually had some sense to it.

You went with the former. Which was why you were back in their quaint little home, nestled amongst the bustling city. And in the observant nature you’d been subjected to time and time again, they both immediately picked up on the fact that you were worse for wear. After a dinner that was as appetizing as any other meal they’d made for you, the three of you holed up in the living room.

It turns out they had a pretty long week too. With hero work, teaching, and―what they just had to bring up―making sure you were doing alright, they were thoroughly beat. Almost as much as you.

Hizashi returned, towing three drinks in his hands. What looked like two beers, one for him and one for Shouta―and a colourful, bright looking mixture of god knows what for yourself.

The glass was cold in your hands, a chill offsetting the warmth brought on by both the fireplace and the heat in your cheeks, quickly rising after Hizashi handed off your drink to you with a wink.

The blond was about to retake his seat, until he paused, setting his beer on the coffee table. “Hold on―I actually brought a lil’ somethin’ extra.” The chipper man dug into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small ziplock baggie. The package was a gunmetal grey, with some indiscernible label on the front. Letters too small, and you too far away to see what they read.

“Now, somethin’ tells me you’re probably a newbie to this kinda stuff, but don’t worry ‘bout it!” Hizashi strided closer to you as he spoke, opening up the package with nimble fingers.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, ‘Zashi.” Shouta sounded unamused, but the small smirk forming on his face told a different story.

“Nah, this’ll be good for her! Take the edge off and all that shit, yeah?”

You looked at the baggie curiously, eyebrows knitted as he fished around inside of it. “...What is it, exactly?”

The blond revealed a small gummy between his fingers, holding it out to you. “Edibles. Go on.”

He gestured for you to take the candy from him, and not really knowing what else to do with his insistence, you did. Hizashi retrieved another from the bag, popping it into his mouth. He held the grey package out to Shouta, but he shook his head, a dismissive sigh escaping his lips.

Hesitantly, you stared at the gummy in your hand. “I, uh...I’m not really sure about this. It’s just that―”

“You’ll be fine.” This time it was Shouta to push you, despite having just been more unfavouring of the topic.

You regarded the man worriedly. However, much unlike before, something new had overtaken his expression. Anticipation, expectancy―it was hard to place. But it told you one thing.

Something had changed his mind, and whatever it was, it was enticing enough for him to disregard the possibility of you reacting badly to the edible, and your concerns over the substance in general.

Clearly, he caught on to your apprehension. And, unfortunately for you, his demands were always so much harder to defy than his partner’s. Not that you did much of defying either these days. Still, as of now it was easier to comply than face the consequences of their incessant convincing.

“Think of it as making up for lying to us. You get to relax a little, and we’ll put you back in our good books.”

“Not that you ever left! But ya did hurt us with that, so it’s the least you could do. Right, sweetheart?” Hizashi grabbed his beer from the coffee table, before taking a seat next to you on the couch. Lazily, he threw an arm across the back of it, you tensing slightly at how it was close enough to be resting on your shoulders.

You knew it wasn’t the best idea. But maybe, just maybe, this small piece of laced candy would be what got you through the night. You should still be able to keep your wits about you, but if this meant getting them off your case? Then so be it. Frankly, being trapped in your mind of stressed thoughts was something you sought to escape all the time. This was a decent opportunity to do just that.

Copying Hizashi, perhaps just a little less enthusiastically, you indulged them in seeing you down the gummy. It left a strange aftertaste, so you washed it down with the brightly coloured drink you’d been neglecting this whole time.

Much to your dismay, that didn’t taste any better.

You resolved to leave the drink be, not wanting to deal with the issues that might come out of mixing  the two inhibitors. The two of them didn’t really care, as soon enough you all fell back into line, talking about whatever first came to mind.

Times like these honestly made you resentful. How you wished that the two heroes weren’t so suffocatingly bothered about your wellbeing. If they weren’t, maybe you could have nights like these more often. They took up so much time policing your actions―checking up on you, hammering in their agenda, hovering. It was time that could be spent just being your friend.

A normal, no obligations relationship was what you wanted with them. Not the reality of you being their little pet project. Trying to change your long standing ways for the ‘better.’ Genuinely, you enjoyed these moments of reprieve. Where for even just a short while, you could all just look past the reasons as to why you were in their home. Just mindless conversation. Entertaining, engaging―normal.

It wasn’t your fault that they had to go ahead and ruin it.

...

Or maybe it was. You could’ve said no. Tonight, or when they first roped you into their lives.

It didn’t really matter now.

_____

The concept of time was...difficult to grasp.

You didn’t know when Shouta had taken up residence right next to you, so close the two of you were touching. Whatever they were saying, you liked it. You were giggling, almost spilling your mostly untouched drink. The condensation on the glass was dripping down your hand, a chill that you didn’t even notice. After a particularly amusing jab at who knows what, you nearly let the contents of the liquid slush out over the rim.

Hizashi laughed at your sedated carelessness, “Woah there, songbird. Lemme take that from you before ya stain the couch, yeah?”

“Clumsy little thing, isn’t she?” The deep baritone of Shouta’s voice next to you sends automatic shivers up and down your spine, muscles tightening for a split second.

By now, you had no clue how much either of them had to drink. Or if they even drank at all. Combing your hazy memory, you couldn’t quite place a moment where you caught them doing anything other than chatting away. Shouta’s beer was still on the side table next to where he was sitting. As for Hizashi’s, well―it was too much effort to crane your neck to see where it lay.

The blond faced you again, “She’s such a cutie like this―all buzzed out. You feelin good there?”

A crooked, goofy looking smile was spread across your lips. “Mhmm…” The drifting response matched your expression, light and pleased.

“What are we gonna do with her?” Shouta, speaking through his actions, and very uncharacteristically, wrapped sturdy arms around your waist. Blissfully dazed, you only let out light and bashful laughs as the man pulled you into his lap. Your legs hung off the side of his toned thighs, while he kept an arm around your waist, the other squeezing your plush hip.

Inhibitions having left you about five minutes ago, you failed to see the predatory glint in Hizashi’s eyes. He moved closer to the both of you, “Oh, I can think of plenty of things we can do…” His hand ran up the length of your thigh―exposed, given how you chose to wear a dress this Saturday.

Lazily, your gaze trailed his movements. Slow, teasingly, letting you feel with anticipation as it crept higher, and higher.

“Eyes on me, kitten.”

Another hand―Shouta’s―lightly gripped your chin. Turning your head, or more like him turning your head, your focus met his darkened one. “...Such little tease, you are.”

Something distant, uncompleted, clicked in the back of your mind. You tried grasping at it, straining to get a hold on whatever that thought was trying to tell you. “I...what do you m―”

So much for that thought.

Shouta’s lips collided with yours, ending any coherent understanding that was developing in that swift movement. His hand, once cupping your face, switched to firmly cradle the back of your head.

Whatever remained of your common sense had you weakly attempting to pull away. But it was no use, when Shouta held you in place, the force of your feeble resistance not bothering him in the slightest. If anything, he found it cute.

How hard you tried to fight them, even now.

His lips moved against yours, the day old scruff tickling your skin. That small sensation pierced your fogged thoughts, intaking a sharp breath of air through your nose. While you focused on that, you barely noticed the blond’s wandering hands.

At least, not until they found their destination. You let out a drawn out moan as Hizashi pressed two fingers against your clothed mound. Your legs would’ve shut, but he had already settled in between them, kneeling over you with a satisfied look.

An amused grin spread across his face as you unconsciously ground yourself into his fingers while he rubbed you through the soft material of your thin panties. “Ohhh, yeah. She’s feeling good all right.”

You should’ve stayed home.

Shouta detached himself from your lips, and Hizashi was quick to take his place. With his free hand, he’d done like his partner and turned you to face him.

While he wasn’t as graceful, you didn’t really have a mind to care. Not when it was overwhelmed with the suffocating closeness of the two men.

You should’ve left once they offered you a drink, or the edible.

The erasure hero peppered small kisses down your neck, stopping only to speak. “Bet we could make her feel even better…” The seductive tone of his voice, spoken low into your ear shot straight to your core, feeling butterflies at his words.

You shouldn't have let your guard down.

Gasping in response, Shouta nipped at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and working to leave a mark in his wake. His partner took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Even in your disoriented state, the sensation of a piercing was a stark contrast in comparison to everything else Hizashi was making you feel.

Too fixated on that, you once again failed to keep track of what was going on around you. It was more like you simply felt it, absorbed the way it was making your body react, without much of a care for the circumstances.

A common occurrence, nowadays.

And it didn’t matter what you should’ve done anymore. It wasn’t going to stop the inevitable.

Shouta’s calloused hands squeezed your hips, kneading them and relishing in your softness. Always the direct one, he grasped the hem of your dress. The hero smiled against your neck, pleased with how compliant Hizashi’s little treat had made you.

If only you could be like this all the time.

As his partner’s fingers continued their ministrations, not being nearly enough to help you seek release, Shouta lifted up your dress.

Catching on soon enough, Hizashi parted from you, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“Let’s get you outta this, huh pretty girl?”

The dots didn’t connect. You didn’t know why things felt just the slightest bit off, only that the familiar and nagging hint of doubt was currently fighting tooth and nail to keep its place at the back of your mind.

You didn’t respond. But they didn’t really care.

Hizashi held your arms up as Shouta peeled your dress off. The flimsy article was quickly discarded on the floor, landing somewhere out of sight. Not really comprehending whether you regretted the actions that led you here now, you let yourself get caught up in their movements, the air of room hitting your exposed breasts.

The blond noted with a low whistle at the fact that you’d neglected to wear a bra, too transfixed at the moment to deduce why.

You knew why, distantly―everything felt distant right now.

While Shouta resumed littering your neck with open mouthed kisses, his partner got to work on making a mess of your front. You couldn’t tell which hands belonged to whom, only that they were on your body. Groping, kneading, taking in how much more delicate you were compared to them.

A fragile little thing.

...How did they hold out this long?

A small yelp escaped you as one of them pinched your hardening nipple, making you squirm fruitlessly in their grasp.

Shouta chuckled at your reaction, “That was a cute noise, kitten. Why don’t you make some more for us?”

The voice hero was slowly leaving marks down your chest, along the curves of your breasts. “Yeah, you can do that for us, right?”

Punctuating his words, his mouth enveloped your pebbled nipple, swirling his piercing tongue around it. His other hand was still steadily rubbing circles into your clothed pussy. You mewled at the sensation, mind still trying to make right from wrong.

“I...I don’t…don’t think this....”

Small tears of frustration threatened to well. You wanted so bad to know where this incessant feeling was coming from. Why it was lingering.

Shouta was quick to shut those worried thoughts down though. “Shhh...just let us take care of you.”

Hizashi’s voice sounded strained―needy. “Fuck, Shou’. I can’t hold back any longer…”

His partner, being the only person in the room with a clear mind, paused before replying. Ever the hard-headed one, now technically shouldn’t be any different. But, with the way you were moving on his lap, unconsciously grinding against him...maybe his head wasn’t as clear as he thought.

...

“I’m not stopping you.”

The look of pure relief at the erasure hero’s words was instant. Because really, the only reason he hadn’t fucked you senseless yet was because Shouta was doing everything in his power to control him. They needed to wait until you were ready, even if it meant giving you something to make you a bit more open to the idea.

Deft fingers looped under the hem of your panties, Hizashi’s eyes glistening at the thin string of arousal on the fabric as he pulled them away from your core. He quickly dragged them down your legs and discarding them in a similar fashion as your dress.

Maneuvering you so that your back was to Shouta’s chest, the erasure hero spread your legs, holding them apart by draping them off either sides of his own. The blond dropped to his knees on the floor in front of you both, taking in the way your folds glistened with the flickering light of the fireplace.

But before he could make a move, Shouta spoke up.

“Wait, maybe we should take this to the bedr―”

“Fuck that.”

Without uttering another word on the subject, Hizashi buried his face in between your legs. Unable to restrain yourself, you cried out as his tongue slid up your heat, the piercing deliciously adding pressure to your clit.

Shouta laughed a bit at your reaction, letting you mindlessly throw your head back on his shoulder. His hands came to grope your breasts, sighing in satisfaction at their soft give against his fingers. “You’ve been holding out on us, kitten. You’re lucky we’re going easy on you right now.”

His counterpart hummed in agreement, sending pleasurable waves of warmth throughout you. His tongue continued circling your clit, noting all the things that made you squirm and whine in response, using them to work you over even more.

Unable to recognize the true meaning to his words, you simply let your body succumb to their ministrations. Your mouth hung open, small noises leaving you in your blissed out state, body completely bare while they were still fully clothed.

You were under a lethal combination of sedating exhaustion from the week, coupled with the ingredients in the gummy Hizashi was ever so quick to offer. It left you pliant, melting into their hold.

You felt good. Really good.

Hizashi’s right hand drifted up, fingers coating themselves in your dripping essence. You writhed as they dipped into your folds, toying with your puffy clit. He replaced them with his tongue once again, letting them tease at your entrance.

The lust filled side of you bucked your hips against him, urging the voice hero to fill you up with his slender fingers.

“Someone’s a little needy.” You ignored the condescending tone coating Shouta’s words, distracted with the way the blond’s fingers refused your insistence.

“I...please…” You didn’t really know what it was you were begging for. Just that you needed him to do something, anything. If it meant he’d stop teasing you.

“I got ya, pretty girl. Just relax now.” Putting you out of your misery, a long and nimble finger pushed past your entrance. The digit skilfully curled inside of you, repeating the action with each thrust.

Desperate for something to hold on to, you gripped the arm that Shouta had wrapped around your waist, keeping you pinned firmly against him. A precaution, of course. They weren’t going to have you backing out of this now. Not after you’d let yourself go so much, and they finally had the chance to prove how good they could be to you.

The stretch of Hizashi adding a second finger felt incredible, but even more so was when they hit that sensitive bundle of nerves with pinpointed accuracy. You jolted from the sensation, toes curling as he targeted the spot while simultaneously keeping his mouth busy in ways that sent your mind reeling.

He pulled away for a moment, enjoying the sight above him as you squirmed in Shouta’s hold. “That your sweet spot, baby?” Putting emphasis on his words, he began delivering even harder thrusts, going back to repeatedly flick at your clit with his tongue.

“You take his fingers so well, don’t you kitten?”

You could feel the coil beginning to tighten, a sedating warmth spreading across your body. If you were facing Shouta, you would be able to see the devious smirk stretched across his lips.

The man was growing impatient―for once in his life when it came to you. But, could you really blame him? Here you were, splayed out across his lap and oh so vulnerable. So cute, so fucked out of your mind.

It was time to move things along, if only so he could get a taste.

His free hand weaved itself into the long and loose blond locks cascading down Hizashi’s shoulders. The man in question gave an inquisitive look, before quickly being cut off. Shouta yanked the man forward by his hair, causing him to press even harder into your sensitive cunt. He groaned as the pain shot through his scalp, the vibrations of his voice, semi-quirk activated, shooting through your core.

That was enough for you. The buildup of heat, how your body felt like it was melting under their touch―in an instant it was amplified tenfold. Your eyebrows furrowed, muscles tensing as you came around Hizashi’s fingers, and on his tongue―both of which were still relentlessly stimulating you through your high. Even when you finally calmed down, the blond continued to greedily lap at your juices, causing you to shake and whine as you were still far too sensitive.

Shouta, a hand still gripping his partner's hair, pulled Hizashi away from you since he realized that clearly he would just keep going if he didn’t intervene.

Your whole being feeling more ragdoll like now, if that was even possible, gave way easily to their hurried repositioning. Having nearly passed out from that alone, the scene unfolding around you went right over your head. Clothes being torn off, belts hastily undone, two very painfully hard men trapping you in between them.

At some point, one of them had put you on your hands and knees on the couch. Well, it was more like you had your ass raised in the air, while you tiredly slumped against the soft cushions. However, the feeling of something running up and down your folds managed to stave off that threatening exhaustion.

“Don’t go passing out on us just yet, kitten.” The gravelly voice came from behind you, letting you know that it was Shouta who was gripping your hip with one hand, the other guiding his cock to your sopping entrance.

Which meant, the pretty and pierced cock in front of you must belong to Hizashi.

“Open up for me, songbird.”

Through semi-wet lashes, you peered up at the voice hero who was towering over you. The hand that wasn’t pumping his length gripped your jaw. And, with a little pressure, he forced your mouth open.

You just needed a little encouragement, is all.

He let out a strangled moan as he pushed his way past your wetted lips, nearly cumming right then and there at how warm you felt around him.

Shouta wasn’t doing much better in the area of self restraint, using his partner’s distraction to sheath himself inside your pussy. His want for control wore thin as your walls fluttered around him, deliciously sucking him in inch by inch.

Both of the men were on cloud nine, finally getting a taste of how you really felt. Those moments of consoling weren’t always innocent, touches yearning to go further. And now that they’d gone to those lengths, now that they were going through those long desired motions, the two realized you were so much better than they could’ve ever imagined.

You moaned around Hizashi’s cock as his partner bottomed out inside of you. His length filled you up in ways neither yours or the blond’s fingers could. Even when he pulled out and thrusted back into your heat, he’d already managed to hit that perfect angle.

Both going at their own pace, your body rocked back and forth as the men took advantage of your delirious state. You couldn’t exactly call it abusing your holes―they weren’t being that rough. But Shouta’s cock was stretching your walls just a bit more than you were prepared for. And Hizashi was slowly forgetting with each passing second that he couldn’t just force his whole length down your throat.

Actually, maybe they were overestimating your limits.

Could you blame them, though? Seeing you day after day, doing their best to not scare you away as they held back the near uncontrollable urge to just take what they wanted. Having to watch you let yourself get run down, when they could’ve been taking care of you.

Why did you have to put up such a fight?

Shouta didn’t think he'd agree with Hizashi when he suggested offering you the edible. Oh, how glad he was for letting him do so now. Because he had to admit, seeing you bent over, deepthroating the blond while he got a nice view of you from behind―it was worth the wait, and the hint of shame that came from inducing you to accept them in such a way.

His tired eyes were lost on the way you took the both of them, shamelessly moaning against Hizashi, hips unconsciously rocking back against him to garner some more stimulation. It was only when the voice hero pulled you off of his pierced cock, the sounds of you gasping for breath meeting his ears, did Shouta break out of that trance.

“Hey...ya think I’d fit in there too?”

The blond was referring to your already decently stuffed cunt, dripping with arousal that was running down your thighs.

Shouta’s lips quirked into a slight smirk.

“...We can make it fit.”

You didn’t quite know what to think. Your mind felt...strange. Weighed down―by exhaustion, some indiscernible veil, but also the need to feel more.

The two helped you sit up, Shouta’s length still fully inside of you. Hizashi eagerly positioned himself in front of you, hands wandering across your body, searching for purchase to ground him.

You did the same to him, mindlessly throwing your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back as the tip of his cock teasingly nudged your clit.

Hizashi laughed a little at your fucked out face, drool seeping from your mouth and running down your chin. His thumb wiped away some stray falling tears, before giving your cheeks a few gentle pats. He found your blissed expression, albeit a lot more intense than he’d seen before, a familiar and amusing thing. “I’ll never get sick of seein’ ya like this, songbird.”

The meaning to his words went directly over your head. Must not have been that important, right?

Unable to really register what was going on, just that suddenly, you felt much more full than you had been a second ago, your brows scrunched in...discomfort?

It didn’t really feel bad, it was just a lot to handle.

Hizashi’s head fell onto your shoulder as he slowly let you sink down on his cock. He let out a hiss, feeling your walls clamp down around him, impossibly and deliciously tight. The small noises that escaped your lips as his piercings dragged against your sensitive spot nearly made them both abandon caution that second.

But they would never hurt you, not unless it was necessary. They wanted to take care of you―even if you were too out of it to realize.

The seconds ticking by as you adjusted to them felt like hours in their book. Finally, after what could’ve been an eternity, Hizashi bottomed out inside of you. The blond relished in the way your nails threatened to break the skin of his shoulders and back as they began thrusting in and out of you, your cunt welcoming them in.

No coherent words could form in your mind, reduced to nothing more than a dumbed down puddle of pleasure. You couldn’t care less about the lewd wet and slapping noises, or how you were quite literally a ragdoll in their arms. Not when the only constant on your mind was how you felt good. Better than you had in a long time. It wasn’t a feeling of safeness, but still, it wasn’t something you wanted to get away from. For now, at least.

Both of the heroes could tell how well your body was reacting to them―by the way your head lolled back against Shouta’s broad frame, or how whimpers and cries of ecstasy spilled from your parted lips.

“...Is our kitten enjoying herself?”

You didn’t respond. Not with words, at least.

Hizashi responded properly for you. “Look at her pretty little face, ‘course she is. Y’know...I could get used to this―what about you, Shou’?”

Arms tangled amongst each other, the two held you upright as they rutted against you. Much like yourself, the pleasure they felt was greatly dulcifying their inhibitions.

You probably wouldn’t remember anything they had to say, though.

The erasure hero grinned at that thought―having you like this for them all the time. Something to look forward to after a long day. The sight of you, safe in their home, waiting for their return. Ready for them to spoil you in every which way possible. Just like you deserved.

“...You saying we should speed things up?”

Now that idea, it gave Hizashi purpose. He was aching to swoop you up―had been for a long time. His hips pistoned in and out of you faster, harder than before.

The blond grasped your jaw in one hand, forcing you to look at him. “Bet you would like that, pretty girl.” With a particularly sharp thrust of his hips, you cried out as he thoughtlessly spoke to you. “Bet you want us doting on ya all day...fucking you ‘till ya can’t walk―that’s what you want, right?”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, the task of forming a response, one that held your truth, being absolutely impossible. You didn’t know what they wanted, and all you craved was to give them a reply to keep them doing whatever it was they were.

“...I..y-yes?”

Wrong answer.

The both of them moved with a new sense of vigour, leaving you clawing at anything you could get your hands on in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“Hear that, Shou’? Our baby’s askin’ for us to take care of her.”

The erasure hero gripped your hips in an iron like hold, sure to leave tender bruises the next day. “Can’t say no to that, now can we?”

The warmth pooling in your belly was growing more intense with each passing second, leaving you to writhe in their grasp, not really knowing how to handle yourself. Every little thing they said, whether to you, or just about you didn’t exactly register. As their speed picked up, the heroes nearing their release just as fast as you, Shouta weaved a hand in between yours and the blond’s body.

You jolted at the feeling of two of his fingers pressing tight circles into your puffy clit, still being jostled as their movements quickened. The two men groaned as your walls clamped down around them, the sounds that met your ears going straight to your core.

“You gonna cum for us, baby?”

Hizashi’s hand, still on your jaw, moved to the back of your head. He held it so that you didn’t merely lay limp against Shouta’s shoulder, propped in his grasp so that he could see your dazed and lust filled expression. You could only nod in response, his question somehow permeating through the thick fog settled over your rational thoughts.

Picking up on the small acknowledgement to Hizashi’s words, Shouta’s ministrations focused on bringing you to release. His fingers never ceased in aimedly toying with your clit, spurred on by the way you reacted so well to them.

The white hot pressure building inside of you was reaching its crescendo. Where one of them left your heat, the other was there to fill you right back up, constantly crashing against your bundle of nerves. That familiar and intense sensation washed over your body as you reached your second peak of the night, convulsing in their arms, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your walls fluttering around their lengths, somehow making it even tighter, a reaction deliciously consuming to the two. Truly better than their imaginations could’ve conceived, the feeling of you coming undone caused them to tumble over the edge of their release as well.

Shouta’s head dipped, face buried in the junction between your neck and collarbones. He grunted into the skin covered in a sheen of sweat, painting your walls white while you continued to tremble in their embrace. Hizashi’s grip on the back of your head tightened, pulling on your hair and making you wince as a sharp pain shot across your scalp. Ropes of cum coated your insides, mixing with the already existing seed, now spilling down your thighs and dripping onto the couch.

All three of you were heaving with acute exhaustion, you maybe slightly more. Coming down from your high, the adrenaline that had just spiked was leaving your body, taking nearly all of your energy with it.

You slumped against their bodies, falling against Shouta while Hizashi still cradled the back of your head. It felt as if lead was weighing down your whole being, threatening to pull you into a deep slumber. And, seeing as you couldn’t find the reason to fight it given your mentally reduced state, you let it.

Your eyelids fluttered, shutting with relief as fatigue enveloped you, drowning you in its sedation.

But someone’s voice, you couldn’t place who’s, ripped you from the respite of sleep. The message igniting that strange, unidentifiable nagging of worry. Yet, it faded as soon as it came, overshadowed by the insatiable movements returning in the two men.

“...We’re not done with you yet.”

(End of part 8)

_____

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If you���re name was crossed out it’s because I couldn’t tag you!

[hargrove-mayfields]

I haven’t been able to write a whole lot recently so to make up for the little drought here’s a few kegboys hcs!

-Tommy has a big thing for 70s country music, it’s like, all he’ll listen to. Steve’s kind of overexposed to country having grown up in IN so he’s pretty neutral on it even though he prefers pop, but Billy, resident metal head and city boy through and through, tries to poke fun at him for it because like, country music is for uncool hicks, right? But, and this is very much to his dismay, Billy cannot get enough of Dolly. Like he really couldn’t care less about Toms other picks but he is beyond hooked on Dolly to the point that he’s the one buying all her new records when they come out.

-Tommy is absolutely the house husband because the other two are honest to god domestically useless. Billy tries really, really hard to help because Steve goes to work and he feels like he’s lazy for not being able to do much while he’s recovering, so Tommy sticks him with the little jobs because he knows he’s never going to get him to agree to actually resting. It’ll just be little tasks, things like cleaning the lint trap when Tom switches the laundry, but it’s enough to make him feel less useless.

-But! As good as he is at keeping up with the bills and doing chores, Tommy CANNOT cook. Steve will never ever forget the time he came over to his house and caught popcorn on fire in his microwave or when Billy had to swoop in and unplug the toaster like seconds before Tee electrocuted himself trying to use a fork to fish out a piece poptart that broke off in there, so he is very much not allowed anywhere near a stove. Billy is the best cook and even then he’s a little iffy because Neil never let him do it, so to compensate for how collectively awful they are in the kitchen they have like a thousand scribbled in cookbooks in every drawer and pantry.

-They all three have very different sleeping habits. Billy’s the early bird, always gets up at the same time as the sun well-rested no matter what time they went to bed. Steve is a deep sleeper through and through, he’ll pass out at like, 11:00 every night and won’t move again until morning. If nobody were to wake him up he could probably sleep all through an entire day. Tommy’s something of a rough sleeper though, can’t usually get to sleep until at least two in the morning, usually later than that even, and once he gets to sleep it’s very light and he tends to wake up every hour, on the hour. One time when Steve’s at the pharmacy picking up Billy's meds he grabs a little thing of melatonin for Tom because like, it says it boosts sleep and anything’s worth a shot if it means Tommy won’t be so exhausted and sick and frustrated all the time, and it does help! He sort of ends up on about the same sleep schedule as Billy once his rhythm gets a little more regulated.

-When they first started dating, Billy thought Steve was bad when it came to clothes stealing, he lost a few jackets and old t-shirts that way, but when they all three move in together he discovers that Tommy is the true culprit. Neither he nor Steve can keep track of literally any single piece of clothing. Everything, from their hoodies to their jeans to their pjs to their socks, all belong in some part to Tom until eventually they just have one community wardrobe they pick and choose from instead of like, individual clothes.

-They all three overuse the heck out of pet names like baby and babe, which results in Steve calling Tommy babe one and Billy babe two because he was tired of saying like “hey babe” and getting two simultaneous answers.

-Tommy does Billy’s hair for him when he still can’t do too much with his hands, and after that too when it’s convenient because it becomes routine, combing out his curls and putting mousse in it when he wants it done nice, because he wants to be a hairdresser anyways! He’d practiced plenty on Steve ever since they were in middle school, given him tons of hair cuts and even his highlights! It’s for that reason that when Tommy starts doing Billy’s hair, Steve gets the teensiest bit jealous because that used to be him. So everytime they go anywhere and they aren’t crunched for time he has to do both Billy and Steve’s hair and he starts not having time to straighten his own! But! That’s okay because his boys are very fond of his natural curls!

-Steve runs very, very cold always. He’s a type one diabetic so he’s pretty much always anemic and he freezes like 24/7. Even in the summer when Billy and Tommy are like melting into the furniture, he can get away with long sleeves and be just fine. When they’re in bed they keep Steve in the middle because they both run super warm like a heat register and it’d get too hot without having Steve as their ice pack between them.

-More about Steve’s diabetes bc it’s like one of my fav hcs and I wish I could write about it more! It’s really hard to find things for him to eat because he’s gotta worry about his sugar, but also because he has so many food allergies and sensitivities on top of that. Before he had anyone around he just kind of didn’t care about watching himself like, if he wanted to eat something, he would just do it, but he ultimately faced the consequences of that a few times too many, aka being hospitalized twice with DKA and three times with anaphylactic shock. he gets banned from grocery shopping on his own, because he will absolutely buy so much stuff he isn’t supposed to have and ‘lose’ the receipt and just hide the stuff because his boys will not let him eat whatever he wants anymore. Billy is also not allowed to go shopping because he never remembers what brands they use or reads any labels, he just grabs the first of everything he sees and calls it a day. Tommy officially gave up on them and started doing it himself after confiscating a half empty bag of gummy bears off of Steve and having to use the wrong toothpaste for months because Billy refused to pay attention.

-Tommy attracts strays! Cats, dogs, an actual escaped budgie from the neighbors house once, it doesn’t matter, somehow they always find him. If he’s out on the porch there’s like, a ninety percent chance there’s a critter that doesn’t belong to them in his lap. He lets Billy name them all even though they can’t keep them. Tommy personally can’t pick a favorite out of the 20 some odd cats that come and go because they’re all his babies, but Billy and Steve have theirs. B’s favorite is a black and white little fella named Mr. Shrimp and Steve’s is a sweet tabby girl named Meowzers! The rule doesn't only apply to domesticated animals either, raccoons and wild bunnies also tend to lurk around their porch. Billy picks up a raccoon once (he named her Poubelle, but calls her Bella) and Steve yelled at him for hours about how dangerous and irresponsible and gross it was. Him and Tommy get boyfriend grounded for like, weeks after that.

-Steve is like everyone’s Midwestern grandma! He keeps pockets full of butterscotch candies and tissues, he’s got a collection of blow molds and Tiffany lamps, he wears sweatshirts and jackets with weird quotes on them and like, he believes the cure to every ailment is tomato soup, vicks, a wash rag, and a kiss or any combination thereof. It drives Billy completely up the wall, because he’ll cough like once and Steve is like do you need soup? do you need a doctor? please let me help you. But Tommy likes it, being fussed over, cause he grew up with younger siblings and two working parents, so he was always the one doing the fussing.

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - Lost in the Floods

To read before:  Present tense & Missing & So it begins & Level Two 

Oliver didn’t have time to look for a free parking lot, so he just stopped the car right in front of the SCPD precinct. The three officers that had gathered in front of the front entrance were looking in his direction, frowning slightly as it wasn’t actually allowed to stop a car here. The oldest of the officers already took a step towards the car, probably intending to tell the driver that it wasn’t allowed. As soon as he noticed that it was Oliver getting out of the car, he stepped back though.

“Your honor.”

Your honor. Oliver would never really get used to being called like that. He wasn’t honorable, not if you looked back into his past, so he shouldn’t be called that. It was tradition though, and he felt bad for correcting people about it.

The man nodded his head in greeting when Oliver hurried up the stairs to the doors. Oliver remembered him from the day of the earthquake that had hit Starling City a couple of days ago. Just like Oliver, Officer Timothy had been driving around the Glades to help the people that were in need the most. Together, they had found a dozen of dead bodies and helped at least twice as many people out of the wreckage they had been buried underneath.

“Officer Timothy.”

The officer seemed almost surprised that Oliver remembered his name. He probably wasn’t used that the mayor remembered the name of a simple officer. With Oliver, that was different though. He was good at remembering names and faces. He would forever do his best at remembering the people that were fighting on the frontline. They were the ones worth remembering, not the people that were sitting comfortably behind their desks while others were risking their lives.

As soon as Oliver had crossed the doorstep, he saw Dominic. He was standing at the counter, his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his pants. Some colleague, a young guy that Oliver didn’t think he had ever met, a rookie maybe, was talking to him, but Oliver could see in Dominic’s face that he wasn’t really listening. He just let that colleague talk to him while he was waiting for Oliver, sparing the energy it would cost him to tell that guy to go away. There was no energy to waste. It was all needed to find Felicity.

It took a moment until Nick noticed that Oliver was there. Once he did, he brushed his colleague off with a quick excuse that Oliver didn’t understand. Patting him on the shoulder, he brushed past him and took a couple of steps towards Oliver. Instead of approaching him, he nodded towards one of the long hallways though.

Although it wasn’t exactly a secret to anyone here that Dominic was Felicity’s half-brother, they all tried not to make it too obvious. Oliver knew how important Nick’s career was to him. He loved his job, and he wanted to earn his position. It was why he hadn’t been mad when Oliver and Quentin had chosen not to make him Quentin’s successor in the office. He had known that he wasn’t ready, and he hadn’t wanted the position in charge just because of trust he had only really earned by being Felicity’s brother.

Oliver followed Nick into one of the interrogation rooms. He didn’t doubt him about it thought. They were on the same side. Felicity was the only real family Nick had after his mother had been killed by a former friend.

As soon as the door was closed behind Nick, Oliver turned around to his brother-in-law. He had a lot of reason to distrust that man’s agency as there had been a time not that long ago when he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Felicity or their family. He had wanted to live free of the blood ties his father had put on him by father not only him but Felicity too.

Despite the little time they had had to get to know each other, Oliver knew that Dominic regretted that he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Felicity at first. Just like Oliver, he had been through some trauma of his own and, just like Felicity, he didn’t have the best opinion of his father. The combination of both had driven him to travel the world alone, chasing something he didn’t know what it was. Not anymore.

“There has been a raid downstairs after some shops have been robbed,” Dominic told him with lowered voice, “and one of the officers noticed an old caravan parking downstairs in the alley. A team went down. They thought that it belonged to the gang they got busted. Instead, they found Tockman.”

A caravan sounded a lot like where Tockman would set up his control center. He could move it to wherever he wanted, so he could easily be close to where he was playing his game. Although his access to tech probably allowed him to hack into the traffic surveillance and other things, but it wasn’t the same as really being present to where the chaos he had created was spreading and destroying people.

Why had he let himself be arrested though?

Oliver knew that it couldn’t be an accident that Tockman had been arrested. With his knowledge of tech, he knew how to make himself invisible, and he knew how to always keep an eye on everything that was happening around. There was something suspicious about the fact that he seemed to have missed the raid that was going on just a couple of feet away.

“I want to interrogate him.”

Maybe if it was someone else that he was talking to, Oliver would say he wanted to talk to Tockman or maybe question him. With Nick, he knew that wasn’t necessary though. He understood exactly what Oliver intended to do and if the expression in his eyes was any indication, he was feeling the same way.

“I already did that.”

Oliver formed his hands to tight fists next to his body. The nails of his fingers were digging into the palms of his hands. He was sure it was leaving red marks on her skin and maybe even thing scratches. His spine straightened, and his jaw tensed to an almost painful point.

He needed to see Tockman, and he needed to make him tell him where he had buried Felicity alive before it was too late. Only a little more of four hours were left, so there was no time to waste. He would make him tell him, even if he had to beat it out of him.

“Then I will do it again.”

Oliver’s voice was dark and sharp. He looked at Nick urgently, wanting him to understand that he wasn’t going to play the bad cop. Even though he was wearing jeans and a Henley, he would meet Tockman as the Green Arrow. He would make him talk with the skills he had learned on the island, in Hong Kong and Russia. He feared the consequences of letting Tockman get away with this more than he feared his punishment.

Why didn’t Nick understand how far Oliver was willing to go?

“Oliver.” Nick’s voice was incredibly low but all the more dangerous now, a low growl even. “I already did that.”

Only now Oliver realized how full of anger Nick’s eyes really were. There was a fire burning inside of them, one that was meant to burn down everything and everyone that got in his way. Oliver knew that expression exactly. He had seen it in his eyes too when he had looked into the mirror the last time.

Nick had put his hands on his hips when he had started speaking. Olive hadn’t noticed it before, but he caught sight of the bruised knuckles of Dominic’s hands now. His skin was cut at several spots, dried blood covering the bruises. More dried blood was spread all over his hands, but Oliver was sure that it wasn’t his.

When Oliver met Nick’s eyes this time, he knew that Nick had really done everything he could. He had wanted to know where Felicity was, and he had done everything possible to make it happen. Although it went against everything he believed in as a cop, he had used to physical violence to get that piece of information out of Tockman. He had broken all the rules there were, endangering every chance at a career he had to save Felicity because she was his family and he loved her.

“What did he say?” Oliver asked intently. “What did Tockman say?”

“Nothing.”

Oliver frowned. “Nothing? Really nothing at all?”

Nick shrugged his shoulders, his hands still on his hips. He looked exhausted and tired. Oliver knew why. It really was exhausting, beating people up, whether they were good or bad guys. The human body wasn’t necessarily made for beating the shit out of people. Still, it was nice that it allowed them to do it nonetheless.

“He said that we – all of us really, but you the most – deserved it.”

Not surprising. Tockman was blaming them or at least Felicity for not getting a chance at saying goodbye to his sister. He had risked everything for her, trying to save her from sure death by a terrible disease. He was looking for someone to blame. Since the universe – for cursing his sister with that disease – or his own actions – as none of this would have happened without his crimes – were too difficult for him to blame, he went for Oliver and Felicity. They had been responsible that the judge had been able to put him behind bars.

There was something in Nick’s face, something that told Oliver that there was more to this. He had said more, but Nick wasn’t sure if he should share it.

“What else did he say?”

Oliver could see the split second that Nick wondered if he really should tell him. He probably knew Oliver well enough by now to know that sometimes it was better to tell important things to him to someone close to him – Felicity or John mostly – first, so they could help Oliver deal with it. There was nobody here but them though, so he couldn’t call for help. He had to give this piece of information he was holding to Oliver or otherwise Oliver would beat him up. It didn’t matter that he was Oliver’s brother-in-law. If he knew something that he knew but that he refused to share, Oliver would make him tell it.

“He said the countdown didn’t matter anymore.”

Oliver pressed his teeth together tightly and sucked in a deep breath. A thousand thoughts were rushing through his brain. It could be a good thing, and it could be a bad or maybe even the worst thing. If the countdown didn’t matter anymore, Felicity could already be dead.

“He said Felicity was as good as dead.”

Oliver felt his heart drop into his stomach. Everything inside of him hurt at the thought that Felicity’s heart whose beat he had always liked to listen to as it has calmed him down enough to find some peaceful sleep. He had less likely been haunted by nightmares when he had fallen asleep with Felicity’s heartbeat in his ear.

What father would he be without her? Could he even be a father? He had barely been ready to take the job when she had told him that she was pregnant with Emmy. He had only managed to find himself into the role because had had her with him, telling him what to do and what instincts to ignore. Was he even human if he lost her?

There had been a time that Felicity had believed he was dead. She had lived through long hours of thinking she was never going to see him again and their kids were never going to see them again. She had needed to tell William that he was dead. She had prepared for telling their little ones that they were never going to see him again. It had broken her to a point that even finding him alive hadn’t been enough to repair her.

If Felicity really died, Oliver knew that he was damaged beyond repair. He would hold on for his kids as long as he had to. As soon as he realized that his kids were old enough and ready to live without his hep, he would join Felicity wherever he was. He wasn’t sure if he believed in an afterlife, and he wasn’t sure that he was going to get a chance at going to heaven where Felicity was certainly waiting for him, but he would use the chance if it was his only one. Felicity’s belief in a righteous and forgiving death just had to be enough for both of them right now.

Felicity wasn’t dead though. It was crazy, but Oliver could feel it deep inside of him. Deep in his heart, he knew that Felicity wasn’t dead yet. Maybe it was only his wishful thinking or his inability to accept this possibility, but he refused to believe that she was dead already. He still got a chance. He had to believe that.

“We need to find Felicity.”

Nick nodded his head. “I know.”

Reaching into the pocket of his pants, he pulled out some keys and lifted them in front of Oliver’s eyes. They dangled from his fingers, right in Oliver’s reach, but Oliver didn’t know how they could possibly help them. Unless those were the keys to where Felicity was hidden, what should he do with those?

“I made sure that nobody will look at the caravan for now,” Nick explained, “making it the last priority of the Crime Scene Unit.”

Oliver grabbed the keys, looking at them resting in the palm of his hand. Nick was overstepping the borders of the laws once more. He was risking his promising career once more because he wanted to find and save Felicity as much as Oliver did.

“There have to be traces there,” he continued intently, “and maybe we can’t see them, but Bruce will make them visible. We are playing against time now more than ever. We have to find her, whatever it takes.”

Oliver nodded his head, forming his hand to a tight fist around the keys. He knew Nick was right. It was them against time now. Whether it made things better or worse now, Oliver wasn’t sure.

Either way, Nick was right. They had to find Felicity, whatever it took.

 → → → → →

 “Did you talk to that bastard?”

Oliver wasn’t surprised that Bruce was the first to approach him as soon as he stepped into the bunker. His eyes were dark and just as angry as Dominic’s had been and as Oliver certainly still was. Everything about his body language screamed that he was willing to go how ever far he had to if it meant saving Felicity.

“No.” Oliver shook his head. “His attorney was present, and Captain McHall didn’t let anyone talk to him.”

While Oliver had been in the caravan, looking for anything suspicious or anything that could help them, he had called Bruce. Given his experience and skills, Oliver had been sure that he had some ideas where to look and what to look for too. Besides, Bruce needed something to do too. Oliver knew that since Felicity never got tired telling him that they are quite alike.

Bruce had asked him whether he had had a chance at talking to Tockman, so Oliver had told him what Nick had said. Although Bruce knew what Nick was capable of, it simply hadn’t been enough for him. He had wanted Oliver to try again and try harder than Nick had before him. Despite the bruises Oliver had seen on Nick’s knuckles, he had let Bruce’s words infect him.

Once he had gathered the stuff that he had thought could be useful and put it to his car, he had stepped into the precinct once more. He had looked for Dominic, but he hadn’t been able to find him. Instead, McKenna had stepped towards him and taken him aside. She had told him that she knew something was going on although she didn’t know what it was. Since Tockman’s attorney had already been there, she hadn’t been able to give him access to him, and she had doubted that it would be a good idea anyway.

Of course Oliver knew that McKenna had been right. If he had seen Tockman, Oliver wasn’t sure if he hadn’t crossed some boundary that he would have been unable to come back from. If they found Felicity alive – and Oliver needed to be optimistic that they would – he needed to be able to look her in the eyes. He wasn’t sure if he could do that when he tortured Tockman.

“Give me the boots.”

Oliver was surprised that Bruce just dropped the subject like that. He had expected him to go at him for that because Oliver was sure that Bruce wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. He wouldn’t have cared.

“Do you think you can use the analysis of the earth in the profile to find Felicity?”

Bruce shrugged his shoulders, already sitting back behind the microscope. “Possibly.”

Although he didn’t say it, Oliver knew that Bruce was mad at him. Bruce was too focused on doing his job and using his tech skills to find Felicity, but he was angry deep down nonetheless. Once this was over, he was certainly hold it against Oliver.

Sitting back against the edge of the desk, Oliver reached out his hand for the tablet that was the only connection he currently had to Felicity. His thumb was already hovering over the button to see Felicity. Instead of pressing it, he clutched the tablet to his chest and held it like the precious treasure it was to him.

As much as Oliver would love to see Felicity and talk to her just to see that she was alright, he didn’t want to come to her with bad news. She had to feel bad enough down there as it was. He wanted to offer at least a glimpse of hope. Right now, he couldn’t do that because it really wasn’t looking good.

When Bruce got up, Oliver frowned.

“Found anything yet?”

“Not really.” Bruce put the sample into a test tube and put it to one of the machines in Felicity’s working area. Pressing a couple of buttons, he got the machine going, turned around and crossed his arms in front of his chest while his eyes locked with Oliver’s. “But maybe a more professional analysis can help us.”

Oliver nodded his head. Analyses like that weren’t exactly Bruce’s strength. They had never been Felicity’s strength either. Years back, they had used to send those things into a laboratory. Given how long it could take and how fast-going their business was, Felicity had set up her own laboratory here. Thanks to Barry, it was mostly working on its own though.

Looking at Bruce more thoroughly, Oliver realized that the other man was looking at him intently and with his eyes dark.

“What?”

It was a stupid question to ask, but Oliver couldn’t help himself. Being defensive seemed smarted to him than to go into offense. Because of how similar he and Bruce were, they understood each other quite well, but they also were bound to bump heads rather sooner than later. They just shared the same impatient and hot temper. It was destined to get difficult between them.

“Why didn’t you just tell Hall to shut the fuck up about things she knew nothing about and go to Tockman and beat the crap out of him until he finally said something?”

“Nick already beat the crap out of him, and it didn’t help at all.”

It didn’t seem to be enough of an answer to Bruce. His eyes glinted, and he pressed his lips together. He was in for a fight. Oliver could see it. He wouldn’t back away from a fight. A good physical fight could clear his head better than anything else. Maybe it would offer him some new perspective on all of this.

“And you thought you couldn’t do better than Nick?”

Oliver perked up his eyebrows. Bruce’s jaw tensed even more, and he straightened his spine. He really looked like he was readying himself for a fight too.

“Nick is Felicity’s brother, and I don’t doubt that he is on our side,” Bruce added eventually, “but he is a cop nonetheless. I am sure that his moral boundaries are a lot higher than yours or mine.”

Oliver doubted that, but he didn’t say a word. He just kept looking at Bruce with his arms crossed in front of his chest and his jaws clenched tightly.

“You should have gone at him and make him talk.”

Maybe a couple of weeks ago, Oliver would have agreed. Now, he wasn’t that sure anymore. It wasn’t that he wasn’t willing to do whatever it took to save her. It wasn’t even the consequences he himself would have to take. It was the consequences his family would have to take that made him doubt that it was the right choice.

If he tortured Tockman until he talked, Oliver wasn’t sure that he could let him stay alive. If he killed Tockman, it was certainly going to get him into prison for some long years though. Felicity and the kids would have to live without him. They would have to protect themselves without him which was difficult, at least when it came to Green Arrow’s enemies. They might have to go into witness protection.

A cold shiver ran down the length of Oliver’s spine when he remembered that this was exactly what Felicity had dreamed of during her Vertigo induced hallucination. Even when losing Felicity was the alternative, this really wasn’t a small price to pay.

Oliver glanced at the countdown. They were down to a little less than two and a half hours. It was bad, really bad. They didn’t have the slightest idea where to go to or where to look for Felicity. They didn’t even have any traces other than the things he had gathered from the caravan, but it didn’t mean that they could find out anything within the next 150 minutes.

If Tockman’s stuff wasn’t going to help them finding her, he would go to the precinct once more and punch the words out of him. He wouldn’t shy away from it, but he wanted to look Felicity in the eyes and tell her that they had done everything they could before he had crossed the limits of law like that and risked everything they had built.

“Felicity tortured that Human Target guy that impersonated you during your supposed death.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Oliver felt his muscles tensing once more. He knew how terrible his supposed death had been on Felicity, so he knew how terrible her death would be for him. He wouldn’t make it through it, not without losing everything he was and everything he believed in.

“And she suffered a lot after that.”

“You are wrong.” Bruce’s voice was tense. “She never regretted that. She always said it was a necessary mean, something that just had to be done to find you and bring you back home.”

“Yes, she said that,” Oliver agreed, “but you weren’t the one that had to held her when she was screaming and crying at night because she heard Chance’s screams of horrors echoing through her dreams.”

The time after he had come back from the dead had been hard on all of them. He and Felicity had had a lot of things to go through. Oliver had tried processing the hours of thinking that he was never get to see Felicity or his kids ever again. He had needed to get through the thoughts of all the chances he had missed and all the thoughts that had stayed unfinished. Felicity had needed to get through the grief that had been so real for her even though it had been almost unnecessary looking back. She had needed to work through her anger with the team for refusing to help her. The trauma his death and her own actions in the light of her supposed loss. They had started therapy to help them with it, and they were still going there. Once this was over, they’d probably go more often again.

“I would have gladly held her if it soothes you.”

Of course he would have. He had been into Felicity for a long time. Usually, Bruce was good at pretending that he believed Felicity was in good hands with Oliver. He had probably talked himself into believing that Felicity wasn’t only happy but really better off without him.

Those thoughts seemed to be forgotten though. Now, he believed that her life could be a lot happier and probably safer if she was with him. He wanted a chance at proving that he was better than Oliver was.

Bruce’s eyes took him in derogatorily. His gaze moved up and down Oliver’s body. His lips were pursed, and is nasal wings were blown wide. No matter how much he was rolling his shoulders, trying to make them relax, his arms and hands tensed. Oliver didn’t miss it.

“Maybe I should tell Felicity how you refused to do whatever it takes to find her when she was willing to give her soul to the devil if necessary. There was nothing she would have shied away from.”

“It still won’t make her love you if that is what you hope for.”

“Who says she is not already in love with me and just holding onto you and your pathetic, little picture-perfect family-thing you are trying to put up? I mean you son wants to study somewhere far away, and Felicity’s death it certainly going to break the rest of your family apart. She is the glue. You can never hold a family together.”

Oliver pushed his chin forward, looking at Bruce challengingly. He wanted to give Bruce a chance at taking it back. He understood that he was angry and scared. Oliver was angry and scared too. If he didn’t take this back, Oliver was going to punch the words out of him. He loved his family and even if Felicity’s death broke him – just the thought of it did already – he wouldn’t let it break his family. He didn’t know how, but he wouldn’t let it happen.

Instead of taking it back, Bruce just grinned. It was the grin of a bully that new exactly that it had hit a sore spot. He knew that he had finally said the one thing that would make Oliver bust a nut. Only thoughts of his family ever managed to do that.

“You really want me to beat the shit out of you, don’t you?”

Bruce grunted. “Like you could possibly do that. You are just as halfhearted as a vigilante as you are in everything else.”

Loosening his arms in front of his chest, Oliver pulled at the sleeves of his Henley, pulling them up his arms. He didn’t want them in the way if he broke Bruce’s nose and every other bone in his face. After her hadn’t been able to let off steam on Tockman, maybe Bruce was a good replacement. After all, he had done everything to deserve this.

“We will see.”

Bruce’s grin widened. He took off the jacket of his suit and let it drop to the floor carelessly. He opened his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves.

“Gladly.”

With that, the two men approached each other – fists balled and ready to fight.

 → → → → →

 She was running out of songs to sing. Her voice would certainly thank her as it had given up hours – or was it days or maybe just minutes? – ago already.

As a mother of five kids and a dog that loved to use his loud barking to make sure everyone got how frustrated he was then he didn’t get enough food or attention, Felicity had always known how to appreciate silence. Sometimes, when she had been at work particularly early, she had just sat behind her desk and enjoyed the silence.

Now, the silence was deafening and terrifying. She’d give everything to be woken up by the noises of roadworks right under her window for the rest of her life. She was never going to ask the kids to turn down the volume of the TV again. She was never going to complain about Hawk barking for several minutes straight because he didn’t get his way. She was going to enjoy even the most annoying noise.

Closing her eyes, Felicity took some deep breaths. As much as she tried to relax, it became increasingly difficult to stay hopeful and be relaxed.

Everything in her body ached. She was sure that ulcers were going to grow on her skin if she was lying like this much longer, unable to move. Then again, who knew how much longer she was going to be in here? How much longer was she going to survive in here?

Felicity tried to push that thought away. She couldn’t think like that. It was only going to suck away even more of her energy and make it incredibly hard to keep holding on for longer. She felt like she was going crazy already, but she couldn’t allow herself to go crazy. She needed to stay strong and focused. She needed to believe that she was going to be alright.

Oliver would find her. He had found her before, and he would always find her. She didn’t doubt that he would find her because he was Oliver, and Oliver wouldn’t give up. Ever.

When Felicity felt tears burning in her eyes, she quickly squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in another deep breath.

“Don’t cry,” she whispered to herself, “don’t cry, don’t cry.”

She repeated the words again and again. It wasn’t that she believed that crying was a weakness nobody should see. It was quite the opposite, and she knew how important the relief was that came with crying and letting out your sadness. If she cried now, Felicity just wasn’t sure if she ever found the ability to stop again.

It was better to spare her tears for when she had been saved. She could be crying in Oliver’s arms, pressing herself as close to him as possible while he was holding her. He would comfort her, making it at least a little bit easier for her. She wouldn’t feel this alone and this desperate when he was with her.

Still trying to hold on to the thin thread of self-control she had, Felicity felt a single tear on her cheek. She lifted her hand and brushed it away quickly. Before she had put her hand back to the ground of the coffin next to her hip, another tear dropped onto her other cheek.

It wasn’t until several drops landed on her cleavage that Felicity finally got that something was wrong here. She wasn’t crying. Her eyes were dry. The water had to come from somewhere else, but where?

Felicity looked around although she knew it was stupid. Since she had woken up, her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness at all. There wasn’t anything for her to see or at least there wasn’t anything she could see.

More and more drops of water covered her. While it had been solely on her face and cleavage at first, it soon covered all of her body and part of the ground she was lying on. Something wasn’t wrong here.

A thousand thoughts were rushing through Felicity’s head. She wondered if the time was running up and this was Tockman’s way of making sure that things ended in time. She had watched that new series with Stana Katic. Felicity couldn’t remember the name, but she did remember that the protagonist had been held captive for years until, eventually, her husband had gotten a call with her location. He had had a little time to find her alive. The glass case she had been held captive in had felt with water in the meantime.

Was this what was happening to her too now? Was her coffin filled with water until she drowned in here? Was this going to happen to her now too?

Thrumming her fists against the ceiling of the coffin, Felicity screamed from the top of her lungs. She tried to kick her feet against it too, but she could barely lift them off ground. It only frustrated her more.

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut once more. With every other of her senses deafened, she was almost sure that she could smell rain, but she wasn’t sure. Her senses had betrayed her before already. She had heard things that weren’t there just because she had wanted to hear them.

“Focus.” Felicity took a deep breath and released the air through her nose slowly. “Focus.”

Once her heartbeat had calmed down a little, she took in another deep breath through her nose. The smell was still there.

“Focus harder.”

Felicity imagined the smells of all the good food Oliver was going to make for her when she came back from this nightmare.  Her memory was so vivid that it felt like it was real. She could almost taste the food on her tongue.

Again, Felicity took in a deep breath through her nose. The smell was definitely still there, so maybe she had been wrong. Maybe, for once, this was real.

“Oliver, I think-“

Felicity stopped, remembering that Oliver couldn’t hear her. He could only hear her when he was the one reaching out for her. Since he knew that the light hurt on her skin, he was probably doing his best not to contact her too often. As long as their time wasn’t running up, he probably thought that she was somewhat safe where she was.

He wouldn’t check on her until he had news or time was running up, and he needed her advice too much to resist the urge to see her.

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut once more and started praying. She prayed that Oliver would contact her – whether it was for good news or bad news. He just needed to contact her, so she could tell him what was happening here.

“Oliver, please.”

 → → → → →

 Oliver had already lunged out his fist, about to punch Bruce until he took back every single one of the words he had said before. Bruce had held his face out for Oliver’s fist, ready to be punched. Right before his fist could hit his face, the alarming sound from the computers made him stop.

“What is that?”

“The analysis of the ground came back with some conspicuity.”

Bruce shot Oliver another brief glance. Although their eyes locked for barely longer than a second, Oliver realized something his angers had made him miss before. Bruce had wanted to be hit. He had provoked this on purpose, probably thinking that getting hit was going to distract him from the pain of fearing that Felicity was dead.

Just like Oliver had hoped punching Bruce was going to help him with the same thing.

Although both of them needed the feeling of being alive again, the need to save Felicity and find her alive was more important. It was all they really wanted, all they really needed.

With large and quick steps, Bruce hurried over to the desk. His fingers danced over the keyboard of Felicity’s computers to call up the results of the analysis and specify these results. The frown that formed on his forehead told Oliver that there was something that might either help them or lead them in the wrong direction. Either way, there were some traces to follow which meant that there was something to do for them. They didn’t have to let out their frustration on each other.

“What is it?”

Oliver stepped closer to Bruce, looking over his shoulder. Whatever was displayed on the monitor, Oliver didn’t get it though. Felicity had her own system of having results displayed. Bruce probably got it as he and Felicity were thinking alike, but Oliver had no idea.

“There are some particles in the samples we took that can only be found in ten locations around here.” Bruce didn’t even look at Oliver, continuing to work his way through more and more data that he called up. “If we can narrow this down, maybe we will find Felicity.”

Ten locations. They had six active members of the team available right now, including Bruce. Thea wasn’t an option. They could call in Quentin though, and McKenna was certainly going to help too if Oliver told her what had happened. That meant they only needed two people more. Maybe with Barry’s help they could do this. As a speedster, he was easily going to be here in seconds, and he could bring help with him.

“You should tell Felicity.”

Oliver perked up his eyebrows, surprised about Bruce’s suggestion. So far, he had done his best to prevent Oliver from looking at Felicity or talking to her too much, reminding him of the pain she was going through. If he thought that this was a good occasion to contact her, it had to be. It also meant that they were close to find her which was something Oliver couldn’t estimate objectively anymore.

Not wasting a second, Oliver grabbed the tablet and pushed the button to finally see Felicity again. He wasn’t sure when they had spent this much time apart, never mind when they hadn’t gotten a chance at looking or speaking to one another. He couldn’t wait to see her again and hear her voice. He needed to know that she was okay and-

“Felicity?”

The moment he saw he face with her eyes screwed shut and a frantic whisper coming from her lips, Oliver knew something was wrong. He knew Felicity’s face too well to miss that that there was something going on. His heart skipped a beat, panic spreading in every cell of his body.

“Felicity, are you alright?”

A sob of relief fell from Felicity’s lips. Her gaze moved from right to left and back again like she was looking for him. Oliver wished that he was there with her, so he could hold her and make her focus on him and only him.

“I am here,” he whispered to her soothingly, “I am here, and I will be with you soon.”

“Oliver, it’s raining.”

“What?” Oliver frowned, now quite getting what exactly she was talking about. “What-“

“It’s raining, and it’s leaking.”

“What’s leaking?”

“The coffin.” Felicity took in a breath that told Oliver how nervous she was. “The water is gathering in here.”

Since Oliver had put his phone on speaker, Bruce had been able to hear everything Felicity had said. From the moment he had heard that it was raining, he had worked on trying to narrow down the number of locations.

“I think I have got her,” he said, not looking at Oliver, “because there is rain in only one of those ten locations rights now.”

They had her. They might actually have her!

“There are heavy rains,” he continued, his voice lowered to make sure Felicity didn’t hear him, “and we might be too late.”

Oliver didn’t want to think about that. For the first time, they had a real hint at where Felicity was. There was no way that he was going to take that hope away from him – or Felicity for that matter.

“We have some traces,” he told her, “we have some traces, and we are on your way to you already. I will be there. Just hold on some more minutes, and I will be there. I promise.”

He promised, and there was no way he was going to break that promise.

* * *

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[tundrainafrica]

Title: Division of Labor (2/?)

Summary:  

“The past years, we have noticed a lot of our fresh high school graduates knew nothing about responsibilities the that awaited them outside high school and even college. Many students do not master budgeting, taxes, household planning, loans and we hope to raise a generation who can navigate the adult world without the consequences of bad decisions they are bound to make going in blindly…”

Paradis High school starts a program incorporating adulting into their curriculum and Hange and Levi are paired together.

Note: From request of @a-golden-hearted-snk-fan. See this link for the request

Other Chapters: 1 3

Link to cross-postings: AO3

"This doesn't make any sense."

Jean had always been one of the more vocal ones in the classroom when it came to inconvenient developments. More often than not, people had just brushed off his complaints and banter as an inevitable part of his personality. That was one of the few times everyone else agreed with him.

The rest though just sat silently in the classroom while both Erwin and Shadis went out of the room, to get what was supposed to be their "kids."

Having taken classes on reproduction and health growing up, most if not all the people in the room already knew the amount of money it took to raise a child and the importance of contraception.

Oddly enough though, the number of kids was decided at random, only justified by the fact that they would never know how many dependents they'll have to care of one day.

"Every single one of you will be faced with the prospect of taking care of a dependent one day, maybe for a few years, maybe for decades," Erwin had explained. He had a natural charisma in the way he carried himself and spoke that made everyone in the room aware of their own tendency for altruism. Everyone had somebody in their life, they probably would have dug into their savings to support be it a mother, a sibling or a close friend.

They were all silently doing their own reflections of who that person would have been as Shadis passed around sacks of flour at random.

"Just be lucky you don't have to do this in real life yet. This adult experience is fucking watered down already. If we could simulate the pain of childhood or the stench of a dirty diaper, we would. " Shadis' words were a stark contrast to Erwin's.

Either way, everyone was too distracted by the number they were getting and the whole prospect of having sack babies in the first place to even react to his words.

"We initially thought of using actual eggs or flour but if you're going to be taking care of this for the whole year…” Erwin fell silent for a second. “That would be disgusting."

The sack was definitely much lighter than what Levi had expected. He squeezed it, noting the firmness of the sack. It was stuffed with cotton. They thought some of it through at least.

Erwin turned on his projector, looking undisturbed by the awkward silence in the room. "By the end of this month, these are what I expect from all of you," He started. "An overview of career plans, a meal plan, a house design based on real estate prices around the area and a breakdown of house responsibilities."

He moved his tacky pointer towards the line on meal plans. "Every two weeks you and your partner go to the supermarket, assess grocery prices and submit me a list of groceries you would buy and a meal plan based on that for the family you have with you. Remember, you are still limited by your wage and each sack represents an extra mouth to consider when you make the meal plan. I will be sending a more detailed version with the deadlines and a prescribed format through email.”

The class was silent for a time. The only notable sounds coming from that room were the scratching of pencil and paper and a few sighs. Hange was taking notes next to Levi while the latter wondered why she even bothered when Erwin was going to send the rest of the information through email after all.

Erwin spent a good few seconds taking stock of everyone in the room before letting out a subtle sigh of his own. "Don't look too overwhelmed, these assignments will be incorporated into all your other classes anyway. Just don't expect teachers from other subjects to spoon feed you though. As much as possible we want you to learn to work with it independently."

                                         Division of Labor

Regardless of what Erwin said, everyone was left overwhelmed anyway. The prospect of having to deal with that heavy of a workload and having that performance affect their chances at college had people spending their precious one hour of lunch time with their partners.

Despite his generally antisocial personality, Levi was rarely alone for lunch. Most days he spent his breaks with his classmates Petra and Oluo. Sometimes Gunther and Eld from the other section would join in. That was unless he felt particularly compelled to spend a lunch break alone. It was as if everyone silently agreed to use that short hour to discuss and strategize with their partners. Levi did not even have time to protest that trend, as his own friends filed out of their seats with their partners, not even bothering to ask if he would be joining them for lunch.

Or did they even need to ask? Hange was right next to him, already taking out her lunch and looking at him expectantly. “Let’s go?”  

“Wait, who said we were having lunch together?”

Hange gestured subtly at the already empty room, as if to ask him “what else?” Levi cursed himself for even complaining about groupmates who never pulled their weight. At that moment, an overly enthusiastic groupmate seemed more unbearable and Levi almost wished he could have gotten a lazy and uninterested groupmate instead. At least then he’d be able to decide for himself when to start working.  

They sat on one of the picnic tables in the school courtyard, Hange with a boxed lunch and Levi with his homemade sandwich. Their two sack babies were stacked up to the side of the table.

"So what do we name them?" Hange asked.

Levi grabbed one of the sacks from the pile and propped it up on his lunch bag, an attempt to use that empty slate of a sack as a guide to imagining what should be a face.  With that, Levi could pretend they were at least kind of living and maybe they did deserve names.

"Flour," Levi suggested. His attempts to see life in faceless sacks came out fruitless.

"Let's try to be a little more creative Levi."

"Why do we even have to give names to these things? They're not even alive. Like nobody is gonna press charges if I stabbed it right now anyway."

"Because they're grading us,” Hange took out a permanent marker and carefully drew a smiling face one sack. She made sure to add a few lines of what looked to be bangs. As she went for the other sack, Levi could not help but notice the goofy smile that appeared on her face.

Levi narrowed his eyes. "You're enjoying this?”

"We’re here. Might as well enjoy it right?" Hange shrugged." If you're not gonna name them. I will." She propped the one she had just finished drawing on, up on Levi’s lunch bag. “This is Flora.” She continued drawing on the other sack. “And this is Fauna."

The names sounded to Levi like science terms he had learned too long ago and had wanted to forget. They flew into one ear and out the other within seconds and Levi had settled for internally naming the sacks the first thing he thought of when he saw Hange's artwork: “ugly bangs” and “eyelash.”

He made sure not to tell Hange though. She seemed way too enthusiastic about her naming choices.

                                         Division of Labor      

Although Levi did have a natural talent with numbers, this potential remained untapped through most of high school. The most apparent reason for this being the fact that the person teaching them Math, at one of the most important times in their high school life was an utter prick.

That utter prick of a Math teacher during their sophomore year made a comeback as their teacher for their junior year. He did not look too happy about it either. Levi at least shared that same sentiment.  

"So I'm supposed to be teaching you guys about taxes but really, believe me, you won't really use half of this shit, just hire an accountant.” Zeke Yaeger propped his feet on the teacher’s table, not bothering to even explain the table of tax rates he had flashed as a powerpoint slide next to him. “ Or... just get an employer, they’ll calculate it for you anyway.”

“Do you mean get a job sir?” It was Marco who so politely asked the question.

“Get a job, get an employer, same banana.” Zeke answered, in between gulps of coffee.

Somehow everyone knew that getting a job would probably be not as easy as the phrase “get an employer” implied it to be. Zeke was their teacher though and he probably knew much more than they did, given the decades of work experience he had in his belt.

“Don’t we need to know how to calculate our taxes based on the table?” Armin asked. He looked to his partner Annie who seemed to be furiously taking notes.

Zeke looked once again at the board for a few minutes before slamming his cup on the table, spilling out some coffee in the process. “Just remember, if your employer promises you 70,000 dollars a year, don’t be surprised when you end up taking home 50,000 dollars coz of some bullshit about the government needing money, insurance and retirement.” He rolled his eyes. “Not like we all live that long to enjoy that  K410 nonsense anyway.” He added bitterly, adding some venom on that part about that string of numbers in particular.

“If we own a business, how do we file them?” Annie asked.

“No one needs to know how to do this. Besides, you’re all in high school. Don’t stress yourself over this. Like I said before, just get an accountant.”

“What if we can’t afford an accountant?”

“Then don’t own a fucking business.” Zeke rolled his eyes. “Fine… Look, I didn’t prepare for that question, gimme a sec.”

The class watched as he closed the powerpoint, quickly opened an incognito window and went on google.

How to file taxes as business owners?

Zeke stared at the next few pages for what seemed like minutes, before clicking on one particular page.

“So yeah, it looks like you just fill out this form and send the money to the tax office.” He shrugged. “Your generation grew up with ipads glued to your faces. I’m sure you’re way better in googling shit than I am so yeah, just google the rest of what you need. Free period until your next class, now go talk about your fake taxes or your fake house or something.”

                                          Division of Labor

Even with the free period Zeke had so generously given them, no one was able to start anything until they got home. It was eight in the evening when Levi opened his school email to find the information on their next tasks, which was sent only a few minutes ago.

September*

Week 3

Housing plan (Wednesday)

Housing Design (Wednesday)

Daily routine

Meal Plan

Week 4

Breakdown of Responsibilities

*Unless otherwise stated, please submit output by Friday of said week  

Levi did not even have time to finish scanning through the guide to their housing plan task as his computer started to slow down, unable to take the quick scrolling. He soon realized it was not the scrolling that had made the computer so dysfunctional. On the lower right of his screen, he saw the notification.

Hange Zoe

New Message

The badge next to his messaging app, quickly rose from 12 unread messages to 26 to 45. Even the screen looked unable to display the messages properly. Wanting to save his computer from anymore torture, Levi grabbed his phone from his bed side and called his partner.

“If you have a lot of things you need to tell me, call .” Levi said, not even bothering to wait for a hello from Hange.

“Oh great! So you did get the messages! For a while I was wondering if your messenger app was broken.”

Levi looked back at the screen to see that the badge next to his app was already displaying a “99+.” If his application or his laptop was not broken then, it might break when he opens the application.

“What the hell are you sending anyway?” Levi asked, delaying the inevitable of having to open the messaging app.

“Links to houses for the housing plan,” Hange answered matter-of-factly. “Unless you’d rather I just say the links out loud for you to type it in the browser yourself.”

With a part of him so nervous at the possibly of his computer hanging or even breaking, Levi had ended having to slam his finger on his mouse when he opened the messaging app. He looked away not wanting to see how his computer tried to process the 99+ messages.

He lay on his bed opening the file on his phone.

“So, since I’m working freelance, I pretty much have a work from home job so we can live anywhere. We have two kids, so what do you think of a three bedroom house?”

“A ‘house house?” Levi looked around at his own living space which his uncle rented for him. He lived in a studio apartment and the concept of living in a house, even in a simulation seemed too unrealistic. “Like a house, with two floors, and multiple bedrooms?”

“And a garden!” Hange said excitedly. “So Flora and Fauna can run around.”

It took Levi a few seconds to comprehend that Hange was discussing their flour sack babies running around an imaginary garden. Levi was sure Hange was not an idiot though and had decided to at least entertain the expensive option of a fully furnished three bedroom house with a sprawling garden.  “And, how were the prices?” Levi walked back to his computer to see that most of his messages had already loaded.

“Well, I found some for 1500 dollars a month, others for 1800 dollars a month. I earn 3600 dollars a month apparently, so I don’t think spending half of it on rent would be too much right?”

“I mean, it’s your wages right?” Levi replied. In truth, a part of him just did not want to go through all one hundred houses Hange had linked him too on the messaging application just to decide on a house.

Hange sent a picture of a split level house, with a wide front garden. “This is my favorite! It comes with a large backyard. And it only costs 1800 dollars a month!”

Only 1800 dollars a month. Levi almost choked. The words “only” and “1800 dollars a month” just seemed too absurd to his ears that someone saying it so casually had him speechless even if Hange was talking about a three bedroom house with a sprawling garden. He cleared his throat. “You’re the breadwinner.”

“Okay! Let’s design the house! I’ll move to my laptop.”

For some reason, Levi had a bad feeling about the listing Hange had shown him. He quickly brushed it away as it came, attributing it to the fact that he never really grew up with enough money to entertain the idea of spending on luxuries. He lived with less than three hundred dollars a month after all, all funded by his absent uncle.

Hange had seemed confident with her decision though.

I’ll stick to what I know best. In the end, Levi decided to leave the larger purchases to Hange. Hehad confidence only in his ability to manage a household. Maybe he would be able to contribute then.

[pl-panda]

Damienette arranged marriage: part 12

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10

Part 11

Damienette arranged marriage: part 12

NEXT

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

Marinette felt an excruciating pain in her chest. It was like her heart burned alive. She kicked Chat Noir right below the belt. He let go of her and stumbled back, this time falling onto the blanked an holding his manhood. Marinette also fell. A green light covered the general area of her heart.

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

The excruciating pain slowly died and light faded, but both still lingered. Marinette could feel her limbs stiffen to try and counter the pain. It was like she just survived a serious heart stroke.

She slowly managed to stand up. Chat d’amour was still lying, crying in pain from her two punches. Marinette got to the edge of the balcony and looked down. Her body was still hurting, but she managed to jump over the barrier and slide down the edge. Her beautiful red dress was dirtied and damaged, but she didn’t care. She had to get away. She had to escape. But she was still too close. She had to get down. But she was three storeys above the ground. It took her only a moment to make the decision to jump.

People who were down there watched in fear as young girl fall from the roof. Marinette had to think fast. She cursed herself internally that she left her bag at Chloe. Tikki was still there. She did not plan on leaving in this outfit. She loved the dress, but there was a need for some accessories. Specifically, a place for Tikki. Acting in panic she tried to grab herself onto some sill, but it did little to actually work. She was sure she would smash into the ground.

Hard pavement came much to fast. She only managed to slightly bend her knees and extend her legs to minimize the impact. When she came into contact, the momentum pushed her into the ground and she felt immense pain in her soles, but to her relief she was able to walk. And more importantly, to run. All of her person was full of pain and each step felt like walking barefoot on broken glass, but the fear of what would happen if the Akuma caught her won over physical discomfort. She had to get away. She had to get to the hotel. Marinette needed Tikki. And more importantly she had to check if Damian was safe. Oh Kwami! Damian! He tried to defend me and Chat threw him at the wall! He must have been hurt badly. He doesn’t have miraculous to protect him!

But what mattered most was that she had to stop Chat. She couldn’t let him harm anyone because of her. He was doing it because she rejected him. He got akumatized over the fact that Ladybug rejected her and then apparently he shifted his focus on Marinette, only for her to publicly start dating Damian! But that was no reason to wreck the whole city. To get akumatized! To try and kiss her!

She shuddered at the memory. This was not okay. Marinette remembered her panic. In the hindsight, maybe breaking his nose was not a sign enough… I will go straight to castration if it ever happens again. Great. Now I sound like Damian…

“So your mother is some cult leader that decided to play a matchmaker?” Chloe asked in disbelief. “Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! And why Dupain-Cheng? I mean I… What does she brings into it? How would your mother even know about her?”

“I am not sure.” Damian admitted. He operated on half-truths since the beginning of the talk. “Maybe that’s exactly why. Marinette has heart of gold and she doesn’t care about people’s past, their status or family. She just looks at them and what they have inside.” He spoke from his own experience. She didn’t care that his mother was the one who forced him into this. She apologized for inconvenience she caused him.

“But why her? There must be thousands of girls like her that would entail at least some benefit…”

“I can assure you miss Bourgeois that there is no one like her.”

“I guess…“ She wanted to say more, but seeing Damian start to glare through the window angry made her stop. Now there was the brooding ball of angst she heard so much about.

The whole talk while waiting for the ambulance was taking too freaking long for his liking. They sat here for almost half an hour by now. He could only guess that Akuma attack was making things hard, but he had no idea why since no one besides him was hurt to his knowledge. It was like people stopped caring about them. He tried to call Drake again, but there was no answer whatsoever. It was almost like they were isolated from the rest of the world.

The realization dawned on him. He was a complete idiot. The idiocy on par with that of Drake. “Nobody is coming. I think I know lover cat’s powers.” He stated

“Then talk instead of sitting there like an utter idiot!”

“Isolation. He wants to have Marinette only for himself, but this idiot probably used his powers on us too!” Damian was fuming. Chat not only tried to take Marinette against her will, but his whole goal was to make her separate from everyone. Screw the rules, he would gut him and worry about the consequences later.

Standing up he felt pain rush through his leg. Damian frowned, but he used his sword in scabbard to support himself. That is until Chloe pushed him back to the bed.

“You are not going anywhere Lover Boy. Last thing I need is you making Dupain-Cheng a widow before she turns sixteen.”

“Why are you suddenly so defensive of her?” Damian scowled at the blonde. From what he knew, she was not the kind type. And he didn’t buy the sudden ‘change of heart’ thing.

“Because I don’t want to be alone! I want to have friends! I know I am utterly ridiculous, but I want to have real friends! She was ready to just forgive me and defend me! I want… I want to repay her!”

“Then man up and help me get to my room. I need to call one person who can help us.” Damian snarled. He was still unconvinced, but it seemed that it didn’t matter. It was that or leaving Marinette alone with the French Psycho #2. Blonde frowned, but helped him nonetheless.

They arrived at his room and Damian got a reinforced case from under his bed. He made sure to open it just a little bit and snatch the satelite phone and smash it back locked before Chloe saw the kevlar suit inside. It was enough revelations because he fucked up today anyway. His brothers would not let him live the fact that he revealed the marriage anyway. If he also outed himself as Robin, he would probably just return to being a hermit in the mountains. It would sure be easier than the scolding from father and jokes from his brothers.

He pulled the phone and pressed several buttons. After scanning his finger, the screen came to life. He picked the number and called. After two rings a muffled voice came from the other side.

“Yeah yeah. I need Superboy so drag your tired ass here this instant!”

“~~~~”

“I don’t care what your father said!”

“~~~~”

“Eh… My wife is in trouble… I hear one tease from you and I am asking father for Kryptonite knuckle dusters for birthday!”

There was a sound of incoming plane and suddenly someone crashed through the window. The boy wore a zipp-up jacket with Superman logo, jeans trousers and had ruffled black hair. He was about thirteen, maybe fourteen.

“‘tsup?”

“Shut up Superboy.” Damian frowned. He had to restrain himself not to out Kent in front of the irritating girl. He wished he just got Mari home when he had a chance.

“I though we were on the first-name basis Robin!”

The sound of Damian’s facepalm could be heard in Fortress of Solitude.

——————————————————————————————————–

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell  @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty @dahjokester @crazylittlemunchkin @novicevoice @justafanwarrior @eliza-bitch @schrodingers25

[alj4890]

Happy Birthday @desiree-pow 🎂 Here's a drabble with one of your favorite pairings 😉

(Colt x MC) in a Choices: Ride or Die fan fic.

A/N You know I don't have a lot of experience with these two, LOL, but I'll try and do something with them for your birthday, Desi.

Masterlist

Can't Forget

How am I supposed to forget it like it never happened?

Ellie set her journal aside.

How could Colt expect her to erase from her mind one of the most life altering moments of her brief existence? She wasn't the same girl who was once too fearful to step off the straight and narrow path. The times she had done so, those few crazy months, had opened her eyes to not only a new world, but one where everything wasn't so necessarily black and white.

Those gray, shadowy areas were where she found her true self. They were where she felt her most comfortable...free to say or think whatever she wanted with little regard to the consequences.

But Colt had told her to leave it and pretend it never happened.

If he wanted me to forget, then he shouldn't have made it so memorable.

Being across the country did little to stop her from trying to find him. The hours she spent scouring social media sights for any hint of Colt Kaneko would have probably bumped her up a semester or two closer to graduation if she had spent that time studying for classes. Every possible thing she could think of that he either loved or once mentioned he liked was thoroughly searched. Picture after picture of motorcycle expos, drag races, and car shows were magnified and studied. Nothing was left to chance.

She had even made peace with her father in the hopes that he would tell her if Colt was ever found in L.A. and arrested.

Ellie had done everything she could think of to find the one man who had encouraged her to live a life without him.

She knew why he had done it. He thought he was protecting her. Give her a chance for a happy, dull life. He encouraged her to find some upstanding, intelligent person at college to start a life with.

How can I have a life without the one who actually made me come alive?

Her searches in her cozy dorm were giving her little to go on. There was only one thing left to do.

It was time to hit the road and see what she could find.

***************

A few months later, late one night, HWY 439, Nevada...

"Here." Colt dropped a few wads of hundred dollar bills on the table. "My entrance fee."

"You sure about this?" A tough looking man asked. His scarred cheeks dimpled with his smirk. "Ain't nobody been able to even keep up with Reggie." He nodded toward a tiny, young woman with bubblegum pink hair. "She can't be beat."

"Yeah, well, she hasn't raced against me." Colt muttered.

The man snorted with laughter. "Hey man, it's your money. If you want to throw it away, then that's on you."

Colt walked away. After having to lay low the last year and a half, he needed to find a way to make money. He didn't want to deal with the gangs his father had got mixed up in. Since he couldn't show his face in Los Angeles, he had done his best to drift from small town to small town.

Working odd jobs here and there was just not cutting it anymore. He wanted to do something legit, some kind of business he wouldn't have to worry about feds busting in.

There was an even bigger reason for wanting to go straight.

Ellie.

He had tried to forget her. Hell, he had tried to date again, yet no girl could come close to Ellie. Every decision he made now revolved around her in some way. .

Even though he had been the one to end what they had, he held that miniscule glimmer of hope that one day they would bump into each other and decide to try again. His legitimate business wouldn't make her fearful of her dad finding out about them.

And maybe...she would be proud of me.

"Focus." He muttered to himself. He needed to win this last race. The reward would be more than worth it. He could then settle down somewhere and open up a garage with no criminal history attatched.

As he walked back to his own car, he paused at the sight of a sleek, black 2015 Stuttgart 999 Widow pulling up

Ellie had a white one with gray--

Colt's jaw dropped when the driver got out.

Ellie pulled on a leather jacket as the cool desert air hit her skin. The crop top she was wearing along with the ripped jeans did little to help keep her warm. She scanned the drivers and gathering crowd for a familiar face.

"You racin'?" Scar face guy yelled out.

Ellie reached in her pockets and held up the money. "Yeah, I--"

"No. She isn't!" Colt snapped.

Ellie swung toward his angry voice.

The smile she had on her face warmed him to his core. He once thought he would ever see it again, much less directed at himself.

Not really knowing what to do, he started to walk toward her.

She ran and jumped into his arms. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she captured his lips in a bruising, deep kiss.

Catcalls and whistles cut through the haze Colt was under with holding Ellie once again.

It took every ounce of strength he had to break away from their kiss. "Ellie, what are you doing here?"

"What do you think?" Her smile grew as he frowned at her. "C'mon Kaneko, I know you're smart enough to figure it out."

"Why aren't you at Langston?"

"I quit." She shrugged when he cursed. "College doesn't fit my lifestyle anymore."

"The hell it doesn't." He argued, setting her down. "You belong there. Not out here with--"

"Hey!" She pushed at his chest with her finger. "I decide where I belong. Not you. Not my dad." Her eyes narrowed on his. "Me."

"Gawd, you are so stubborn." He ran a hand threw his hair. "Get in your car and go home!"

"I am home!" She snapped. "I want to be with you and--"

"Ellie!" He gripped her arms, giving her a little shake. "We can't."

It hurt too much to say that to her a second time. He couldn't leave things between them like that again. He simply wasn't strong enough. 

"Not yet. I'm trying to make it to where one day we can try. Just, I need to know you’re safe and okay in college while I do this. Then we--"

She shook her head, no.

"Dammit Ellie, work with me here." He griped.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. "I told you, college isn't for me. I tried it for a year. I hated every second of it." Her big brown eyes searched his. "The only happiness I ever felt was with you."

Colt began to curse the unfairness of it all. As he told her that any man who let her have power over him was a fool, he pulled her to his chest and buried his face into her hair. Clutching her tight, he finally whispered how much he had missed her.

Ellie felt the beginning of tears pricking her eyes as he continued to tell how she was the only girl for him...that he loved her more than anything. She began to stroke his back when his voice shook with emotion.

"I love you too." She whispered back.

"What am I going to do with you?" He muttered into her hair.

"I have a few suggestions." She leaned back to look up at him.

"I bet you do." He gestured toward her car. "You're not racing."

"Who says?"

"I do."

"Last time I checked, you don't own my car or me." Ellie reminded him.

"Ellie, please." He dropped the superior attitude, catching her off guard with his plea. "I need you to sit this one out." He brushed her hair back over her shoulder, letting the strands drift through his fingers. "I won't be able to concentrate knowing you’re racing too."

Ellie stepped back, gripping his hand. "Then I'll be your extra set of eyes."

Dropping his head half in relief and half in resignation, he guided her toward his suped up Nissan GT-R.

Scar face snickered. "You two make up?"

"You could say that." Colt opened the passenger door for Ellie. Without another glance at the annoying guy who was holding the possible winnings, he got into the driver's seat and started it up.

His eyes cut to the right and he felt the first smile in a long time form on his lips. Ellie was already buckled up and checking out the other drivers.

Colt reached over the console and placed his hand on top of hers, lacing their fingers as he settled their clasped hands on the gear stick.

Ellie felt a flood of adrenaline mix with her happiness at finally being not only where she belonged but also with the one she was meant for. She had been ready to fight him on allowing her to live this life. Now knowing how much he had wanted her there and not tried too hard to make her leave him again, she knew deep down she had made the right decision.

Scar face stepped to the side of the road, holding a white flag. He raised it high in the air while speaking through a bullhorn.

The couple's eyes met then turned straight ahead. As if they were of one mind, they both moved the gear stick into first.

Colt slammed down on the gas when the flag was dropped, all while quickly shifting through second and third.

By the time they reached fifth gear, they had already left every other car far behind them...just like they had all those months apart.

[personasintro]

My Tiny Secret | 05; Name

𝑴𝒚 𝑻𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆 | 05; Name

⏤𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; Pretty face doesn’t make it up for an ugly personality. And Kim Seokjin is the perfect proof of that.

⏤𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: seokjin x reader

⏤𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: angst, smut

⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: toxic relationship, mistress au, strong language

⏤> 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒙

buy me a coffee?♡

unknown number: I think Yoojin is a beautiful name

You don't have to think about who sent you this message, knowing it could be only one person. One person whose number you blocked, but you're not surprised by the easiness of texting you despite of it. You blocked his number for a reason, a very specific one, but Kim Seokjin has no boundaries.

The message popped all of a sudden a day after you gave birth, along with congratulate messages you got from your family and friends. No one was supporting enough about your pregnancy and you know all those messages are genuine.

“You really need to give him a name. I'm kinda tired of calling him pumpkin.”

The gentle sound of Hoseok's voice leaves his lips as he holds your son in his arms, admiring the small baby in his hold. It was him who insisted of holding him and help him to sleep, claiming you need a rest. But you know he's already in love with him.

You glance at the message you haven't deleted yet, nor responded. It's not like you're planning on doing that. Yoojin. The name is cute and sounds beautiful, but once you actually realize it has 'Jin' in it, your mouth gets dry. Has he done it on purpose? Texting you a name which has some part of his own in it? He's ridiculous.

“Hey, what do you think about Yoojin?” you ask your best friend, locking your phone before tossing it on the couch beside you.

“Yoojin?” Hoseok asks, his heart-shaped lips slightly pouting as he curiously looks at you. He glances at the baby in his hold, smiling cutely at him before he nods along. “I think it suits him. It's nice.”

Standing up, you cringe at the slight throb between your legs since you're not completely healed from the labour. You just gave birth five days ago.

Hoseok eyes you carefully as if ready to stand up and help you, but you smile at him letting you know you're fine. You sit next to him, tucking a thin blanket from baby's chin to have a better look at him. He slightly squirms in Hoseok's hold but soundlessly continues to sleep.

Yoojin.

It really does suit him.

“How did it come up?” he asks softly, caressing your son's cheek with his point finger.

Gulping, you bite the inside of your cheek looking at your son. “I googled it.” you cringe at the lie coming straight out of your mouth.

And you feel bad to lie to Hoseok, that's the least he deserves. But it's coming from a good place with good intention. If Hoseok finds out the truth, that Seokjin contacted you and saw you other times than that one time you were shopping, he would flip out. He hates Seokjin's guts for valid reasons.

Hoseok has been always very protective of you and you can't imagine what he would do once he would found out. He would probably go to straight to his company, not caring about possible consequences of being throw out by Seokjin's security.

“You googled it?” he chuckles and for a second, you're scared he can see straight your lie. “Well, I was thinking more about some sentimental meaning behind the name, but I like it. It's really nice.” he jokes before a gentle smile settles on his lips.

“Yoojin.” you speak out softly, testing out the name loudly. Your son slightly moves with his tiny fingers with his eyes still closed, his mouth cutely pouting. You know he got them from him.

“I think he likes it.” Hoseok says and you snort.

“He doesn't even understands us.” you tell him with a chuckle at Hoseok's cuteness but he only scoffs in response, believing that your son hears you despite of his current state.

He's probably dreaming about your breast milk, your poor nipples are already so sensitive and cracked.

It feels unreal having a baby, an actual human being that you've to take care of. If it wasn't for Hoseok, you wouldn't be able to pay for all the baby's needs like stroller, crib or all the nappies.

It was only a couple of days after that you got more than interesting message.

'₩13000000,00 has been transferred to your account.'

Your eyes almost bulged out once you saw it. No, this can't be real. So you checked your bank account. It is real. You've never had that kind of money on your bank account, it's a lot.

You're not stupid. You know very well who could be able to send that kind of amount of money to your bank account. It surely isn't anyone from your family. And once you called to a bank, asking about information they confirmed it. Kim Seokjin sent you money.

So you asked Hoseok if he could watch Yoojin, which he gladly did. Of course, you never mentioned him those money. You will, once you'll solve it.

You need money. But not filthy ones and especially not from him. You could easily pay back to Hoseok with that amount, god, it would help your constant feeling of being burden so much. As much as Hoseok doesn't want you to pay him back, you have to. You've your own pride. And maybe that's the reason why you won't take those money. Because you've your pride. You won't let Seokjin control you while using the money to do it.

You never been to his company personally, his own house was the only place you both had your encounters. He tried to keep you away from his life as much as possible, that means not letting anyone know about you.

You're not surprised by the strict attire of all employees, wearing suits and dress shirt with pencil skirts. Trying to act as much natural as if you belong here, even though you're wearing just simple jeans with blouse that keeps your tendered breasts to breathe and not hurt that much, you successfully avoid to the receptionist behind the huge white desk. Luckily, she's on the phone with someone, so you got a chance to hide yourself if one of the elevators. You've no idea where you going, standing in an elevator with a man wearing, of course, a black suit. He taps into his phone while brief case in his other hand, while you nervously shift behind him.

“Do you know, by any chance, where Kim Seokjin's office is?” you ask him, your voice resounding against the metal walls of the elevator.

He looks up from the phone, his sharp eyes adverting to you as he eyes you for a moment. You think he's going to call a security, or whatever people here do when there is someone who isn't supposed to be here, before he answers.

“Top floor. At the end of the hall on the left side.”

“Thank you.”

Despite of your politeness, he doesn't say anything before he gets out of the elevator once it stops on sixth floor. The door closes behind him shortly after and you're left alone, letting out a shaky breath.

Fuck, why are you so nervous? You're going to kill that man. Why are you so nervous to face him?

Once you get to the top floor, which seems to be the busiest, you listen to the man's words and follow his instructions. You see couple of rooms with glass walls, seeing people having meetings. The place seems to be super busy but it holds this nice smell that you can't put your finger on. Everything looks expensive and modern and you know, this is where Seokjin comes from. This is his life. You were never part of that life, nor you will.

It's not that hard to find his office, the silver plate on the wall right next to door with 'CEO Kim Seokjin' written on it tells you you've found it. You ignore all the weird stares you get by the employees, probably wondering what a woman like you is doing here. So with a swift knock, you knock on his door listening patiently.

You were the one who decided to come here and confront him, but you wish he's having his late lunch break or whatever. Maybe you could leave and nobody would notice you--

“Come in.”

Fuck. It's his voice.

It seems hard and strong even through the barrier in form of black door, and your knees shake for a moment before you take a deep breath. This is it. You've to do this.

You snatch the door open, your figure barging in the huge room. It doesn't take a long for you to find him, sitting behind his desk with a few papers in his hands as he scans it before he's interrupted by the rude opening of the door. He looks up, his dark bangs pushed back showing his forehead as you immediately notice his plush lips contrasting with his honey skin.

He looks so much like Yoojin and you hate it. You hate that he's the father of your child. You hate that fact that Yoojin takes so much after his father. He's only two weeks old and he already looks so much like him.

Closing the door with a loud thud, you look back at him. His dark eyes are already soaking into yours, not really showing any emotion. If he's surprised, he's hiding it well.

“What are you doing here?” he asks lowly, speaking out first as you slowly walk up to his desk.

You ignore the way he stares at you, mostly feeling insecure. Your body isn't what it used to be, even though you can't even tell difference, as Hoseok says.

“Tables have turned, huh?” you can't help but chuckle bitterly, which he ignores and simply continues with staring at you.

So you open your bag, pulling out a couple of stacks of money, precisely wrapped as you throw it onto his desk.

“I know you're the one who sent me those,” you speak, raising your chin high while you're trying to hide your shaky hands. You give him a few seconds to deny it, but he doesn't and you know you've been right. He confirms your thoughts with silence, so you continue. “I don't want it. I don't need it.” you emphasize the word 'need'.

Does he think you're some charity case? As if he doesn't make you miserable and insecure enough.

“I could dispute about it,” he speaks, leaning against his chair confidently as he intertwines his fingers on his lap. “Did you seriously walk with those kind of money around city?”

You're taken back by that. Is that what he really cares about?

“Don't tell me you actually started to care about my safety.” you bitterly chuckle, finding that thought more than absurd and unrealistic.

He puts his mouth in straight line, your heart sinking down to your stomach and you don't even know. Why does he keep hurting you? Even with the smallest things.

“I sent you those money for our son.”

You grit your teeth at the mention of Yoojin.

“I told you--”

“I know what you told me,” he cuts you off, your mouth shuts right after once he speaks. “That doesn't mean I'm going to listen to you.”

You're speechless. Not in a good way though. He has the audacity to resists your words and wishes again.

“Listen,” he sighs, straightening up before he stands up. Your insides shakes once he stands tall behind the desk while buttoning up his suit. “I'm not going to give up. You can't take him away from me. I'm his father whether you like it or not. And we could do this the right way, or the rougher one.”

You gulp, a shiver creeping on your back as you lick your lips. “What do you mean?”

You probably got an idea, but you still have to ask.

“We'll make a deal, or I'm going to take this to court.” he speaks confidently, as if he absolutely made-up his mind about this and you know he's not bluffing.

You see the fire behind his eyes and how he dares you to say otherwise.

“Choose wisely, Y/N,” The usage of your name causes your breath to hitch. It feels weird hearing him to say it since he barely called you by your name. It was like he was trying to put as much distance from the two of you as he could. But now, he just speaks bluntly. “You know I'm a man of my word.”

You know that much. He told you he'd come back. He always did. He always kept his word no matter what, even though he never promised you anything close to an actual relationship.

“You say--” you take a deep breath, not letting him get through you. “You say that you want to be in his life. How do you want to do that when you can't even respect me as a woman? I'm his mother and all you've done is treat me like a piece of shit.” you tell him with disgust, the words you're letting out is burning your tongue as your features harden.

You feel like crying, knowing you never healed from how he treated you. You were just stupid enough to continue seeing him, you couldn't resist him. You gained some strength and confidence ever since you stopped seeing him, but he could still throw you off with a single word and specific tone like a house of cards.

“I never promised you anything. It always was just sex.” His tone isn't cold as you would expect it to be, he simply just reminds you.

You know he's right. He is not being rude, just honest. And you hate yourself for feeling this certain way that makes you want to bawl your eyes out. You don't love him, but you at least felt something for him. You're nothing to him. He makes you feel like nothing.

“That doesn't make up for your attitude.” you point out and he walks around the desk, stepping closer to you and you slightly flinch away but he doesn't seem to be phased.

“You say I don't respect you as a woman or mother,” he bluntly ignores your previous words which annoys you. “But do you respect me as a father?”

He doesn't sound anywhere near emotional, almost emotionless but that doesn't come as surprise to you. You got used to it. That's what doesn't make any sense to you. When he saw Yoojin for the first time, or when he wasn't even born yet, he seemed like a person who is capable of feelings. You've never seen him that way.

His question catches you off guard. And you grow only more irritated with him because this is just his way of turning things against you. When you point some thing out, he does the same to you without properly giving you an answer. He is a wise man, there is no doubt of that. He actually thinks he's better than anyone.

What are you supposed to say?

'I won't respect you because you never respected me'?

That sounds just childish. It's like 'you first then I'll' children use to say whenever they're bickering.

“Seokjin,” you speak up, letting his name out of your mouth after a long time. “This is just plain stupid. I'm not doing this with you.” you shake your head.

“Is it? How is it stupid that I want to be in my son's life?” he asks you, raising his tone just slightly to let you know he's not playing around. You never thought he is in the first place.

“Because it is!” you bark, not able to hold it in. “Because there is no way you don't have some intention behind this! There is no way you suddenly want to just be a father. Let's not forget that you've tried to buy him from me! Buy, Seokjin! That's so fucked up!”

He doesn't seem to be surprised by the loudness of your voice. “You don't know me,” he barks out this time, but still quieter than you did. “I thought you don't wanna raise a kid.”

“So, what? You thought buying a baby that wasn't even born yet is a good idea?” you let out a bitter chuckle, your eyes wetting up with unnecessary tears.

“Look, I know that wasn't good of me. I never had an intention to take him away from you. I just thought, considering your financial situation, that you would just-- and me and my wife have been trying-- it doesn't matter.” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhales.

“It does matter! It matters to me.” you tell him, letting out a soft whimper as you quickly wipe away your tears that threatened to fall.

“Nothing I could say will help or make things better.”

And for the first time, you feel like you're both on the same page about something.

“But you could try.” you whisper, biting your lower lip as his eyes linger on you.

You feel pathetic to cry in front of him. He has seen you cry too much for the past few months, or at least this vulnerable. You used to mask it until you were alone, not anymore.

“I'm trying,” he tells you, his fingers finding their way to his dark locks as he brushes through them. “Don't you see, I'm trying? You want to be his mother and I respect that. Because you are and it doesn't matter that I'm fucking married and that I was supposed to get my wife pregnant, not you. But here we're.”

You're speechless with your mouth opened as you feel your eyes slightly getting swollen by the burn feeling.

“So either we're going to do this together, or I'll take it to court. I want to be in my son's life.” he tells you firmly, his cold side back.

So you dryly gulp the lump in your throat and with your heart beating loudly in your ears, you blink couple of times.

You know he has his rights and that he's Yoojin's father. You don't want him to be in his life, knowing he hurt you so much and that he just isn't a good person. And if you don't agree now, there is a chance he'll ruin you. He'll take Yoojin from you.

“Do you promise not to take him away from me?” you ask quietly, your voice shivering.

The simple thought just makes you want to curl in a ball and cry yourself to sleep. You can't loose him.  

“Not when you'll cooperate.” he tells you, relaxing his features for a moment but you don't dwell on it although, it's a rare sight to see. Especially when it's aimed at you.

“Fine,” you breathe out, your shoulders tensing. “But I don't want that money.”

“Those money are for my son.”

“Our son.” you quickly correct him with furrowed brows and he smirks.

“Yeah, exactly,” he nods and you know he did that just to annoy you. He liked it to hear finally saying it's not just your son, but his as well. “So, you'll take that money back or you know what? Don't. I will transfer it to you. Don't walk with that kind of money just like that.” he tells you, turning around and picking up his phone from the desk.

You stand there all dumbfounded, blinking as he types something before he takes all the stuck of money and hides it in one of the draws.

“I told you--”

“I know, but let me take care of him.” he cuts you off, not even looking at you and with a huff, you don't try to insist anymore.

At the end of the day, he's always going to do what he wants. And if this means he can ensure Yoojin's better life, that you can't give him, so be it.

[wegoingsofthours]

A Harmless Mistake ♡ Jung Hoseok

Member: Jung Hoseok

Genre: Fantasy, Demon AU

Summary: In which you summon a demon, the problem is there's no way you can send him back

Note: Based on this ask here (Sorry it took longer than expected. I don't really do that well with fantasy related topics so this was a bit trickier to write. But hope you still like it)

This wasn't meant to happen. Surely a simple potion spell could be mixed up with a summoning spell. How were you meant to know that messing up just the slightest word could cause such a drastic burden to fall upon you.

You stood in front of the ensemble of coloured liquids, all harmless in this state yet deadly when meddled with in the hands of an inexperienced person. In your own hands. Rather than waiting to be taught the uses of the potion ingredients, you took it upon yourself to be self taught the work of witchcraft. After all, those with power should be able to teach themselves when necessary.

In your state of panic, smoke emitted from the cauldron containing the mixture, clouding your vision from the figure that would be soon approaching.

Red smoke.

Red had been the colour you had been anticipating. The colour was indicative of the least humane from all of creation. A demon. And a powerful one at that. Hadn't it been for your curiosity this wouldn't have happened. You mentally cursed your foolishness, your pride leading you astray from your initial intentions.

But you had no chance to ponder over that anymore. You had a bigger issue at hand, one that could be the means of your survival or death.

Panic-stricken and fearful of your fate, you clutched your hands onto your ears, blocking your sense of hearing. Although it wouldn't make any difference, it lead you into a slight sense of security.

To put it simply, you has been hopeless, nothing would take you out of this situation so you were to face your own consequences.

Amongst the vast amount of destruction around the room, the figure had emerged.

"H-Hello" you asked, cursing the weakness of your voice. You'd been a target, and a helpless one at that.

"Hm?" was the only sound that escaped the mouth of the person in front of you, but although he had adopted a human form, he was still as inhumane as ever. You studied his appearence. It was nothing out of the ordinary, raven hair, dark eyes and a wide smile plastered on his face which would have been comforting but hadn't due to the way he hd entered.

"Um. Who are you?" you asked, still hunched over in a corner which after coming to the realisation of you stood up to appear less intimidated.

"Jung Hoseok. Or just Hoseok would do. So what brings me here? It's not every day I get summoned by any random human" he asked sarcasm apparent in his tone.

"I'm not just a human. I'm a witch in fact. I apologise for the inconvenience. This wasn't meant to happen" you said fumbling through the pages of the book.

You found out that the page of the book had been mixed up. How could you be so foolish? Of all other spells to mess it up with it had to be a summoning spell. And out of all spells, why had this one been so simple to perform. You always expected summoning spells to be more difficult.

"It wasn't? Well I was meant to be relying on you to get me back. But you couldn't even do a simple summoning spell right. Tell me, who were you trying to get here in the first place" he asked, standing directly in front of you, arms crossed almost menacingly.

"Nobody. I mixed it up. I wasn't even meant to bring anyone to this place at all"

"I don't believe that. How could you use that spell without the intent of bringing spirit here?"

He had a point. You knew some people had struggled to invoke spirits or other worldly beings but you had managed to pull it off. It wouldn't be able to pass off as an accident in anyone else's eyes.

"I mixed it up. The incantation was all off" you said pointing to the page in your book where the spell had been mixed up. He glanced over the words of the books noting you had been in fact correct. But one concern arose which you knew had to be solved.

"Hm. I see. Well then, how do you plan on sending me back. Surely you should know a solution"

"Um. It should be here somewhere. It'll be in one of these books" you said, raking through the various books on your shelf.

This could take a while.

You spent hours searching for spells. Time travel, healing spells, even death incantations but nothing about sending back demons. You worked your way into the early hours in the morning while the demon you summoned had glanced over you, giving his own sarcastic input within the process.

It was 8am you noticed. You had to get to work. The group wouldn't be able to know their schedule for the day if you hadn't been there. You rummaged through your clothes, picking up a plain shirt and jeans before making your way to the bathroom to wash up.

"And where do you think you're going? We still need to find a spell" he asked, seemingly annoyed by your sudden rush to leave.

"I need to go to work. I'm a choreographer so I can't miss out on today" you replied shortly, attempting to leave the room again,.but his hand snaked around you to close the door in front of you.

"A choreographer? May I come along with you? I believe I have a few skills with me" he proposed. It was baffling to you that you believed demons to be vile creatures yet this one in particular had actually wanted to go to dance practice with you.

"I can't just-" you began.

"Either you take me with you or I'll keep you here. The choice is yours" he interjected. Of course he'd use blackmail to keep you in place. You pondered over the choice and figured it'd be easier to bring him along with you rather than keeping him in your room alone, knowing he would possibly look through your room without you knowing.

"You're enjoying messing with me aren't you" you remarked whilr he chuckled at your response.

"Of course. It's entertaining. Besides you're the one that brought me here, so you're the one that needs to make my stay here more tolerable" he countered knowing tou had to do as he said since it was your own fault. You were hopeless with his presence.

"I hate you" you said coldly.

"I never expected you to like me in the first place" he replied with the same coldness you had displayed.

"So everyone, I'd like you to meet Hoseok, he's the newest member of the group for now" you introduced

You waved him off to the group of six other men in the room. All six of them you noticed had greeted the new member of the group with a warm smile and a few handshakes. It was surreal how even as a demon he was able to be reply as humanely as possible. It made you wonder whether he had interacted with humans in the past. You found yourself in a trance by the scene in front of you, thoughts running rapidly through your mind until something snapped you out of your thoughts. Or perhaps someone.

"Hey. Are you alright?" one of the boys had asked who you recognised as Namjoon.

"Yeah. Sorry. Just blanked out for a moment" you sincerely stated before making your way to the group "How about you guys perform what you've got so far and we'll get Hoseok to practice after that?"

Rather than a reply they all maintained their formation. You walked to the side of the studio, the dark haired demon following suit besides you.

"So any dancing skills?" you asked noting it'd be a better idea to have asked previously before bringing him down to the studio.

"I may have dabbled in dancing in the past. Don't worry. I'll be able to do this dance since I know you must care so greatly about your reputation. Probably the reason you didn't want to get help to send me back right" he replied a smirk creeping up to his lips.

"That's not-" you began.

"Shh. The dance is starting" he said yet again proving, he was intolerable. You ignored him focusing your attention on the group in front of you.

The music began, a rather hip-hop sounding track at that. You had touched on various styles of dance but this week had been practicing the particular style of music. You had to admit they had done well with the dance, moves sharp and rhythm on point. Aside from a few slip ups which were expected considering your limited amount of practice but nothing that couldn't be fixed.

"Interesting" Hoseok mumbled to himself.

"In what way?" you replied as he turned his attention towards you, unsure whether it had been a positive or negative thought crossing his mind.

"I've never seen this style before as much. Demons have a more classical style of dance. But I believe I have a grasp on the dance now" he said as you realised how modernised the dance was compared to the other styles out there.

"Would you like to try it out now?" you asked seeing as the dance was now over, guiding him back to the group. You claimed his position in the dance, not quite in the centre but not towards the back where you wouldn't be able to see him. Rather you placed him to the far right in the middle where you could see him easily.

"Now let's take that from the top" you said, playing the song from the start, the song amplifying in the relatively small dance studio.

They began the dance yet again, this time your focus was solely placed on the group as you had no company besides you to take up some of it.

Your mouth widened in shock as even with only seeing the dance once, his skills were enough for him to pull it off perfectly. Each move was powerful to say the least, each twist and turn had looked effortless. It was as if he had been practicing it for a couple of months that he pulled each one off without a second thought. Once the dance ws over, he walked over towards you, a smile present on his face from your expression.

"How was that?" he asked already knowing the answer but wanting you to say it instead.

"Are you sure you haven't danced to that before?"

"I told you earlier, I said I have a few skills in dance. It'll be fun working alongside you"

"Working alongside?"

"I've made my decision to stay here. Don't bother worrying yourself about finding a spell to turn it back. Would you be willing to help me out?"

"If it's fine with you. I'll be honoured to work alongside you as well" you smiled, reaching out your hand to accept his awaited handshake.

Now you knew, even though it was a mistake that started all of this. A mistake was what fated you with each other. But it wasn't too much of a burden. It was only a harmless mistake in the end.

[alicedopey]

Unrated Truth or Dare - Part II

Genre: Smut / Romance

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Words Number: 3042

Warning: Smut, Dubious consent

Summary: Ivar’s little plan backfires. Then, he shows you the consequences of your actions.

A/N: Here it is guys, sorry for the long wait.

Link to Part I

You took some time to collect yourself before walking through the enormous corridor and join them into the living room in what you hoped was a calm and dignified pose.

Ellie eyes you anxiously as you went back to your seat opposite Ivar. The latter was giving you a sardonic smile.

Don’t kill him Y/N! Don’t kill him!

He patted his jeans pocket and you were reminded that you were not wearing any undergarment. You could not help blushing. Embarrassed, you instinctively crossed your legs and folded your arms against your chest.

Bjorn cleared his throat. “Y/N, I believe this is your time to play now.”

Ivar’s smile widened. Clearly, he was waiting for you to take your revenge on him…but you would not give him the satisfaction to play his game. You turned to your friend.

“Ellie, truth or dare?”

“Err…truth.” She answered, almost afraid. She knew you by heart and it was quite obvious you were furious…and she was responsible for all this mess, she was the one who brought you here!

You couldn’t do that to her, though. Ivar was the asshole. “What is the oddest place where you had sex?”

Hvitserk bumped his shoulder against hers. “Oooh I like that one, babe.”

Ellie flushed but answered, nonetheless. Apparently, she did not only “work” with Hvitserk at the library. Nobody was surprised but you. Hvitserk seemed to be a real dog ready for a quick fucking session anytime, anywhere.

The game kept going and going, you did your best to keep your cool when confronted to one of Ivar’s questions. Dare was now out of the question, you knew what he was able to do.

Every time it was Ivar’s turn to play, he would turn to you with that annoying smirk of his.

“Y/N, when was the first time you kissed a boy? Y/N, are you a virgin? Y/N, have you ever had a threesome? When was the last time you sucked a cock?”

Every time you looked at him, almost bored and answered his question as if he was asking you what your favorite color was.

Ellie would look at you, half-apologizing half-begging for you not to make a scene in front of her boyfriend’s family. You tried your best. Really, you did. Ivar knew no limit, though.

“Y/N, truth or dare?”

Breathe, breathe. “Truth, of course.”

He smiled, you did not like that smile. Something was very wrong about it.

“Did you know that your ex-boyfriend is telling everyone you are a damn prude and an awful lay?”

You felt as if an ice bucket had been poured all over your body. Everyone who knew you knew that your ex-boyfriend a sensitive topic for you. He had no right to mention this, even if it was true. He did not know any limit but you had just reached yours. He wanted to play this game? Fine.

A fake smile stretched your lips. “Yes, I did. So…Ivar, truth or dare?”

If he was surprised that you were finally acknowledging him in the game, he did not show it. “Truth.”

Perfect. A fake smile still on your face, you leaned over him. “Did you know that Freydis, you know that sweet ex of yours, is telling everyone you could not get it up?”

He was mad, you could tell. His brothers had stopped breathing except for Sigurd who was looking at his younger brother with a malicious gleam in the eye. Ivar had lost his smile now and it was definitely not a good sign.

“Yes, I did. Y/N, did you know that your ex-boyfriend used to sleep with your best friend in high school while you were studying?”

Of course, you knew. That bitch was too nice to be true. “Yes, I did. Ivar, did you know that the child Freydis lost was not yours?”

Ellie grabbed your arm but you jerked it away from her touch. The others were watching the exchange in silence. The brothers knew better than to intervene, it would probably make things worse.

“Yeah…yeah, I did.” He answered between clenched teeth. Then, he snorted and let out a deep dark chuckle which sent shivers running down your spine. He looked up at you, amused.

“Y/N, did you know your own little sister used to give blowjobs to your ex?”

Your hand went to Ivar’s face of its own volition. The slap you gave him slammed like a whip in the air. Ubbe set a hand on Ivar’s should to appease him but he violently pushed it away. He tilted his head to the side, his tongue running upon his lower lip.

“I guess you didn’t know that one, then.”

You stood up, almost trembling with fury.

“I don’t know who you think you are but just because your name is Lothbrok doesn’t mean you have the right to humiliate everyone. “

You took a step closer. Ivar should have scared you – he was scaring everyone – but right now, you could have killed him.

“You know what I think? I think you did this little humiliation number tonight so that you could make someone feel more miserable than you do and to distract yourself from thinking about your own life and the fact that you’re such a loser, you did not succeed in putting the college bitch in your bed…plus, let’s not forget she got fucked by someone else while supposedly dating you.” Your lips curled up in disgust. “You are pathetic.”

Out of breath, your almost ran towards the entrance door, took your jacket from the coat rack and went out.

The nice October wind cooled down your cheeks, flushed with anger. You quickly walked through the streets of Copenhagen. They were surprisingly busy since it was Halloween. Most students were out to party and a few of them were already wandering drunkenly in the noisy streets. You tried to keep your eyes down, unwilling to catch any attention after this already messed up night.

The building where you lived soon came into view. You ran up a few steps and reached the room you were currently sharing with Ellie. You entered the room and slammed the door, letting out a breath you did not know you were holding.

All you needed right now was a good hot shower and a long night of sleep. You would deal with Ellie’s wrath tomorrow. It was her fault, after all. She should not have dragged you there, you had told her numerous times you did not want to go.

Moreover, Ivar had no right to mention such private things about your life, even if most people already knew about it. Your ex-boyfriend was a dick, your ex-best friend was a bitch and it seemed your little sister was an idiot and a traitor. To learn such a thing from Ivar’s lips and in front of strangers…Your blood boiled at the thought. You took a deep breath, willing to calm yourself down. He was not worth it, they were all not worth it.

Sighing, you took off your jacket and threw it nonchalantly on your desk. Someone knocked on the door. Ellie had probably forgotten her keys. You walked to the door, reminding yourself to remain calm and opened it.

“Alright, I know I messed up but…” It was not Ellie.

Ivar was here, supporting himself on his crutch. You tried to slam the door in his face but he had anticipated your move and opened the door wider with his shoulder. He pushed you away and came into the room, closing the door behind him. The two of you looked at each other defiantly.

“What the Hell are you doing here? You want another slap in the face?”

Ivar chuckled and held out a hand to show you your undergarments.

“Actually, I came here to give you those back. I told you I would put them back on, remember?”

Your eyes widened. You had gone outside with no panties or bra on. Ivar saw your embarrassment and smirked. You were tired of his games. Irritated, you tried to take them back but he pulled them out of your reach.

“I don’t have time for this. Either give them back or keep them but I want you to get out of my room.”

“Oh no, pet. You wanted to play? You won the first game but I am here to settle the score.”

He was really scaring you now. “Look, I don’t want to play any game. You just got what you deserved.”

“Really?” He took a few steps closer and you took a few steps back. “What about you? Did you get what you deserve?”

What? He took another few steps towards you. This time, you refused to show your fear and did not move an inch. You just hoped he would not hear your heart furiously beating in your chest.

“You deserve a nice and good fucking lesson.” Ivar let out in a dangerous whisper. His fingers grazed out your neck.

“And I suppose you’re the one who will teach me that lesson?” You raised your chin defiantly, refusing to let yourself being intimidated by him. You were a bit scared he might strangle you, though.

But he simply smiled. His fingers travelled down your body brushing your shirt, your skirt. He got closer and his scent hit your nose. It was nice…almost too nice.

“You play the disgusted act but I know better. “

His hand stopped on your hip. He leaned over you, his mouth was getting dangerously close to yours. You did not want to show any sign of discomfort but your breath quickened. Ivar looked at your chest, amused.

“See? You are craving it. You are calling for it.” You followed his stare and realized your nipples were pointing under your shirt.

“What are you talking about? I’m just cold.” Your hands pushed his chest but he did not bulge. “Move!”

He ignored your order. His hands kept travelling down your body. He touched your knee, your inner thigh… You wanted to move away from him but your body was frozen to the spot, both scared and aroused by his actions.

His fingers played with your curls and before you could react, he inserted one if his digits inside you. Your mouth opened in a silent gap.

“You are wet, my sweet Y/N.” He said mockingly and inserted another finger in your drenched core. “Who knew your little number was just a trap to get me there. You’re craving to be fucked, aren’t you?” He kept moving his fingers languidly. Your hands on his chest gripped his dark shirt.

“I can tell you like what I’m doing. The little prude is in fact a little bitch.”

His insult woke you up from your lusty daze. Your harshly pushed him away and his fingers left your sex as you slapped his face once again.

Silence fell on the room. You looked at him, he looked at you. His eyes took a darker and threatening shade, he pushed on his crutch and lurched forward. He grabbed you and threw you on the bed. His violent gesture ripped your shirt apart, offering your bouncing breasts to his view. He let himself fall over you and pulled your knees apart with his hands. His hips met yours, letting your feel the bulge in his pants.

Your eyed widened. He could get it up! Ivar had followed your train of thoughts.

“See? You shouldn’t believe everything you hear on the campus. Just because I didn’t fuck Freydis doesn’t mean I can’t fuck at all.” He smiled darkly. “And I’m going to show you how good I can fuck you.”

Oh no! You would not let him get you that easily. Trying to ignore the nagging pulse of your pussy, you violently wiggled against him. You slapped, you scratched but nothing made him move.

Somehow, he managed to grab your hands between his big one while his other hand sneaked underneath your skirt. His talented fingers entered your sex once again. Your head fell backwards on your pillow. You were enjoying it in spite of yourself.

“Good, isn’t it?”

You glared at him. If you wanted to, you could try and kick him but you did not wish to hurt his legs. Instead, you pushed your thighs against his hips, trying to enclose him in between them. You tilted your hips upwards to create some friction that could destabilize him. He only groaned and increased the pace of his fingers as a punishment.

A loud moan fell from your lips, getting even louder when his thumb rubbed your clit. A jolt of electricity ran through your body. Your thighs pressed against his hips even harder, you did not want him to get a chance to escape. He owed this orgasm after all!

That is when he stopped. Your eyes opened and you groaned in frustration. He was looking at you with that awfully sexy smirk on his face. He licked his fingers which were glistening with your juices.

“So, this is the lesson you wanted to give me; leaving me all hot and bothered?”

“Nah…” He touched your cheek with his wet fingers and you turned your head, angered by his behavior. “I just figured you might like something bigger.”

“Like what? Sigurd’s dick?” The answer flew from you lips. It was your turn to smirk.

He frowned. “I’ll give you Sigurd’s dick, you little…”

“Shut up and fuck me already!”

Ivar was so surprised he released your hands from his vicious grip. Deeply annoyed by his lack of reaction, you unbuckled his pants and pulled them down his ass, along with his boxer shorts. You fully encircled his dick. Ivar finally showed some reaction as a groan escaped from his lips. He kneaded your breasts, mashing them with his big hands before lowering his head. His lips took the place of his hands. He harshly tugged on your lips with his teeth. You moaned at the pleasuring pain.

You stroked him harder and faster. There was no way you would leave him the upper hand. But he put his hand on yours and stopped your delicious torture on his body.

“That is not how I wish to finish.”

You retrieved your hand and let him guide himself to your entrance. He suddenly paused. “Please, tell me you’re on birth control.” A willing pussy was always so tempting but he was no Hvitserk to be that reckless and deal with an unwanted pregnancy.

You nodded fervently. Sighing in relief, Ivar dived into you. You screamed. The pleasure was intense. He was big, filling you in the most perfect way. You understood now why sex with your ex was not that good. You were not the problem, he was.

Ivar started moving slowly, then faster. His hands were viciously pulling at your hips for you to meet his thrusts. He was using you like a doll, except he was paying attention to your reactions, closely watching your face distorted with pleasure.

The urge to touch his skin was strong so you pulled at his tee-shirt to get rid of it. When his chest came into view, you caressed and scratched it. He was full of muscles, so well built it was almost unfair…better enjoy it while you could.

You embraced him and your upper bodies met. The skin on skin feeling was exquisite. Ivar seemed to enjoy it as well, he nuzzled your neck and nipped at it. His thrusts were becoming harsher. You could tell he was close and wanted you to reach your end before he did. Feeling revengeful, you clenched your walls around him.

“Oh no you little slut…” He whispered hotly against your ear. You felt one of his hands slide between your bodies to play with your most sensitive place. He circled it furiously and you clenched harder. Your nails dug in his back, drawing blood. He bit at your neck in response.

This could have looked like a fight except for the savage grunts that were leaving his mouth…and the whimpers which left yours.

There was no doubt the other students were hearing you. After that, people would definitely stop calling you a pride – quite the contrary.

Ivar was rutting into you by now. Your bodies danced with each other. You were so close to each other, one could have thought you were one.

His thumb pushed one last time on your clit and you came undone, seeing stars. Ivar gave one final hard thrust and spilled himself into you.

You stayed there; your sweating bodies intertwined and your heavy breathes mingling until he left your body. You whimpered at the loss, feeling his cum dripping from your cunt.

Ivar stood up with the help of his crutch and got dressed. You suddenly felt ashamed of your behavior and stared at the ceiling, refusing to meet his mocking stare.

“Bottoms up.”

You frowned, intrigued. When you set your eyes on him, you noticed he was holding your green panties. “I promised I would pull them back on myself, didn’t I?”

He slid the fabric up your legs. You raised your ass so that he could cover your skin with it. Then it was the turn of your bra that he surprisingly clasped with ease. He looked at you; hair disheveled, cheeks flushed, chest rapidly rising, your covered pussy still filled with his cum.

“Call me when you feel the need to take them off again.”

“When Hell freezes over.”

He smiled. A real smile, this time. “I guess I’ll see you soon, then.”

He softly closed the door behind him. Lying awake on your bed, you tried to analyze the madness that this night had been. Sleeping with a man like that was so out of character for you but something was telling you that you would see him very soon indeed.

Tagging (please tell me if you want to be added or removed): @naaladareia​ @tephi101​ @therealcalicali​ @peaceisadirtyword​ @akamaiden​ @ivarswickedqueen​ @captstefanbrandt​ @thevikingsheaux​ @mblaqgi​ @the-greenestofbeans​ @tinyfistwarrior​

[jawnjendes]

shawn meets... | isabella

SUMMARY: in the life of a rockstar, shawn mendes comes across some unique people. sometimes, things stray from the norm. (AU, shawn x every one of my oc’s)(continuation/spin off of goth gf)

AN: time for a new oc! and by NEW i mean, new to yall,,, ive had this oc since i was 15

***let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist

previous chapter 

isabella’s origin story not available | isabella’s playlist | masterlist

Out of all the places he’s been to, London seemed to bring the most interesting people to Shawn’s already interesting life. He couldn’t tell if it was because he was an international singing sensation, or because of his own strange luck. Was his college life this weird with people?

College… it felt like somebody else’s life. It had been a few years since he walked through the massive campus, but there were still days that Shawn found himself missing that life. He especially missed it these days because he still had Brian in that life. Not to mention it was all mundane and normal. A number of people knew Shawn, but it was not the colossal amount that knew him now. Back then, he could go to a karaoke bar and get as trashed as he wanted, and the only consequence would be a killer hangover. Back then, he would be going to a karaoke bar with his best friend.

These last few months were a grieving period. Shawn hadn't planned on taking time off, but the funeral was the last straw. Hearing the broken wails of Brian's mother as the casket was lowered into the ground was all too much. He couldn't handle the guilt that sat on his shoulders, or the grief that weight down on his chest. He couldn't look his friend's family in the eyes and say it was his fault why their son was dead. So time off was taken, and a tour was canceled, and much therapy was had.

Now, four months later, Shawn was getting back into the swing of things. He was back in London with the intention of songwriting and possibly some recording. His mind was still cloudy and his chest was still heavy, but he was deemed functional enough by Andrew and his therapist.

However, Shawn couldn't wander the streets alone. That was the case ever since his first fan mobbing in Los Angeles a few years ago. More recently, ever since the girl who bruised Shawn’s wrist happened, Jake had to be at his side at all times. Even at a crowded karaoke bar where his face blended with everyone else under the dim lights, and where everyone focused on the person singing onstage.

Shawn looked down at his right wrist. The bruises were long gone, and he could still play guitar just as he did before. The thought of never playing again gave him an uncomfortable chill. He couldn't be thinking about that, not when worse things had happened. Brian was the one who pointed out how odd and nonhuman that girl was. Shawn wouldn't have been able to figure out the truth about her and her employer. He really needed the karaoke bar tonight.

At least Jake was considerate enough to sit a couple of stools away from Shawn, giving him the illusion that he was here by himself. He nursed his beer and scanned the room, not really listening to the karaoke host introduce the next singer. Shawn was not really sure what he was looking for here. He chatted with the handsome, blond bartender, but he got busy with the night rush. All Shawn knew was that he didn’t want to be stuck alone in a hotel room, and he really didn’t want to be around more people who would share their condolences and fond memories of someone they hardly knew. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar song play on the speakers did Shawn finally focus on the stage.

If it was his own song, Shawn would have had to leave the bar. But it was Niall’s On My Own, making Shawn briefly consider texting the Irish singer to see what he’s up to tonight. However, he quickly zeroed in on the girl singing, and he started to wonder if he really did have a type.

She had short, choppy black hair, like she had cut it herself. These round purple sunglasses hung on the bridge of her nose, and it was the only thing that stood out from her all black ensemble: a low cut tank top, ripped jeans, and Converse high tops. She moved animatedly around the stage, that short hair bouncing and getting disheveled. She didn’t seem to care about how she looked.

Shawn turned back to Jake and gave him that look. “Are you seeing this?” Jake merely gave him a thumbs up.

The other thing about this girl was her voice. Every person that sang before here was… not good. This girl had a strong, rich voice. She could give Niall a run for his money with all the runs she threw into his song. She was talented. Shawn hadn’t heard a voice like that since he heard Bella Santiago sing in person for the first time. (Still a shame that girl won’t accept any record deal she was offered.)

Everyone in the bar seemed to like this girl too. The crowd roared with applause and cheers when she hit the bridge of the song. Shawn bopped his head along to the beat, feeling a genuine smile on his face for the first time in weeks. He clapped as hard as he could when the song ended, but then his heart dropped as he saw this girl walk off the stage and head for the bar. He turned to face the bartender, but looked down at his half empty bottle. His heart nearly stopped when the girl took the empty stool next to him.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a British accent that came out of her. At least, not a noticeable one. She sounded more American than anything else.

“Thanks, Seth,” she said to the bartender as he seemed to make a Blue Moon magically appear out of nowhere. “What’d you think?”

“Showing everyone how it’s done, like always.” He winked.

She giggled. “We getting outta here soon?”

“After last call, won't be long now."

Shawn felt a blow in his stomach. She was here with the bartender. Well, time to call it a night.

Then, there was something like magic. Shawn had turned towards Jake to signal him to get out of here, but there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned back around to find the girl looking at him.

“I sat here for a reason, you know,” she said, eyebrows raised.

Magic!

Shawn grinned. “That reason being?”

“Handsome chap, alone in a bar? Too good to be true, so I had to investigate. You here alone, mysterious stranger? I mean, apart from your bodyguard, of course.” She took a gulp from her beer.

Shawn was thrown off by that entire string of words. He couldn’t even try to play dumb. “How did you-”

“He’s had that protective look in his eyes since I sat down,” she explained. “And I know protection like nobody’s business.”

“Oh, you’re a bodyguard, eh?” Shawn asked, his eyes shamelessly trailing down her petite body. Yes, it was an excuse to look at the decent amount cleavage she had going on.

“Eh?” she repeated with a chuckle. “What, are you Canadian or something?” She laughed like it was such a ridiculous thought.

He blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

The girl laughed even more, her eyes squinting. “Are you joking? Canada’s not real!”

Maybe she had a few too many drinks. Shawn watched her with a polite grin as she hiccuped.

“You’re alright, mysterious stranger.” She held out her hand. “Isabella Montgomery.”

“Nice to meet you,” Shawn said as he shook her hand. For someone who just danced around onstage, her hand was quite chilly.

She quirked a dark eyebrow. “Gonna stick with the mysterious stranger thing, are you? Suit yourself.”

Either she recognized him and pretended like she didn’t or… she just didn’t recognize him. Whatever the case, Shawn was perfectly content with being a stranger tonight.

“You gonna sing tonight?” Isabella asked him.

“Oh no, I’m not drunk enough for that,” he said. “Besides, I don’t think I could follow up the show you just put on.”

She smiled. “You’re probably right. But I’ve got the smallest feeling you might be an alright singer.”

Okay, she definitely recognized him.

“I don’t really want the attention on me tonight,” he admitted.

Isabella nodded understandingly. “I see. Well, would you wanna get outta here?”

The two of them looked at each other for a split second. Shawn was quite forward himself, but he wasn’t that quick. Not to mention, he just overheard her make plans with Seth the bartender.

“To another pub,” Isabella hastily corrected. “There’s a place my friend over here and I are gonna head to. You wanna come along?”

“Oh!” Shawn felt a little more delighted now that she clarified the bartender situation. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. Where's this place at?”

Isabella licked her lips and grinned. She looked for her bartender friend, who just announced last call on the microphone. When he returned to his post, Isabella waved him over.

“Yes, my dear?” Seth asked.

“My new mysterious mate wants to come with us,” she told him.

“Oh, does he? Think he can handle it?”

“I can handle it,” Shawn piped up. “What kinda place is it, anyway?”

Isabella and Seth shared a look, silently communicating. Then, they both turned back to the mysterious stranger.

“It’s, er, a nerdy… type of place,” Isabella explained slowly. “People cosplay… Dungeons and Dragons type of things. They take it very seriously, won’t even break character if you talk to them. It’s a weird environment, but it’s fun nonetheless.”

Shawn nodded as he took in the information. Wouldn’t be the first nerd-themed place he’s been too. But it has been a while. “I’m down. Sounds fun.”

“There’s karaoke there too,” Seth added. “And, we can promise that you will continue being a mysterious stranger while we’re there.”

A karaoke bar where no one will recognize him? Sounds like a dream.

“Let’s do it,” he told his new friends.

This nerd bar was hidden. The shelf behind the bar was actually a secret door. Seth pushed it open with surprising ease while Isabella hopped over the bar. Shawn looked at Jake, who didn’t seem suspicious or hesitant. Yet.

Seth let the others pass through first before shutting the shelf door behind him. Then, Isabella led them down a hallway lit by dim blue lights. She pushed open another door, revealing a bar that was much darker than the previous one. It felt more like a nightclub.

Shawn could barely make out people wearing long colorful robes, dancing under the strobe lights. Definitely nerd space. An unrecognizable song was blaring over the speakers. As Shawn tried to figure out what exactly the lyrics were saying, Isabella nudged him.

“I’ll sign us up for karaoke!” she yelled over the music.

“Wait-” he tried to say, nerves building up in his stomach.

“You’re singing with me no matter what!”

And she disappeared towards the stage.

Before Shawn could stop her, Seth came in for the distraction. He pulled Shawn over to the bar and ordered something for the three of them. Soon enough, there were shot glasses lined up along the surface of the bar, and Isabella had found the boys.

“Oh, fuck yeah!”

Each of them grabbed their tiny glass. Shawn looked around for his guard, now nervous about being left alone, but he found Jake in the far corner of the club. Watching. Waiting. Unbothered.

That was enough for Shawn to down one, two, three shots of whatever the fuck with these people. He felt fire in his veins, euphoria surrounding him. Everything he was previously worried about didn’t matter anymore.

“We’re gonna sing Panic!” Isabella told him at some point.

“Can’t wait!”

Next thing he knew, Shawn was onstage in front of a massive group of nerds, High Hopes blaring on the speakers. Isabella was next to him, microphone in hand as she belted out the beginning of the song with her killer voice.

Shawn took over the first verse, and the two of them harmonized wonderfully. At least, with the alcohol in his system, it felt that way. The two of them danced around on stage like fools, not caring about looking cool or composed or even trying to sing well. Isabella sounded naturally good, though. She messed up her hair and nearly tripped on her feet a few times, but man could that girl carry a tune.

“Had to have high, high hopes for a living Didn’t know how, but I always had a feeling I was going to be that one in a million Always had high, high hopes”

It was liberating. It was spiritually healing. It was different than performing in an arena of thousands of people. He could just be silly and not have to put on his tour persona.

They only sang one song, but it was enough for Shawn to feel something other than the crushing grief that was frequently on his shoulders. He felt good, almost happy. He danced with these strangers and drank some more. He saw pretty lights dancing around the ceiling, he could almost see the stars and the moon through it too. It was magical, to say the least.

"Guys, I'm getting hungry!" Isabella exclaimed after a while.

"Well, I'm getting tired!" Seth told her. "What about you, mysterious stranger?"

"Fooooooood!"

The three of them (Jake in tow, of course) left the way they came in. Seth pushed open the shelf door and let the others through. Shawn's ears were ringing once he was back in the quiet, but there was still adrenaline coursing through his system. He wasn't ready for the night to be over.

But Seth was. He stretched his long arms over his head and yawned once all of them were out in the humid night. “I’m out for the night, lads. It was cool hanging out with you, stranger.”

“You too, brother,” Shawn said, clasping his shoulder.

Seth then turned to Isabella. “I’ll see you at home?”

“See you at home,” she confirmed.

Then, Seth stalked off down the street, practically disappearing into a dark alley. There was a cracking sound that broke the quiet night, but Shawn wasn’t exactly preoccupied with that.

"Where we gonna eat?" he asked Isabella.

However, Jake stepped in. "We should really get going. It's late enough as it is."

"But I'm hungry!" Shawn whined.

"Yeah, the boy is hungry!" Isabella assertively repeated, placing her hands on her hips. "Can't let him starve now, can we? There's a burger joint down the road, 's not that far."

The two of them stared down the bodyguard. He usually took Shawn away from the fun despite the singer's protests. It was always because they had something to do or somewhere to be the next day, but there were still a couple of days left before the demands came back… before the prominent absence of a certain Brian made itself known yet again. Shawn wanted to savor this time, drunk or not.

Jake seemed to realize this as well, because he suddenly approved. “Alright. You eat, and then it’s back to the hotel.”

Isabella bounced on her feet. “Sweet! Let’s go!”

She linked her arm with Shawn’s and led him literally ten steps up the road. The burger joint was empty apart from the cashier working the graveyard shift. Jake went to sit at the booth in the corner, continuing to do his job.

“God, I’m dying for a veggie burger,” Isabella said, looking up at the menu.

“Are the garlic fries any good?” Shawn asked.

“Wouldn’t know, I have a garlic allergy.”

He looked at her, surprised. “Shouldn’t we go somewhere else? What if your food touches garlic?”

She waved it off. “I don’t have severe reactions or anything. And I’ve been here loads of time. Trust me, it’s safe.”

Well, if she knows her own body… The two of them ordered, and Shawn made sure to keep the allergen out of his meal as well. Then, they sat down two booths ahead of Jake, still keeping the illusion that Shawn was out and about on his own.

Under the much brighter lights of this establishment, Shawn could make out Isabella’s face a little more. She had the babiest baby face a person could have. If they hadn’t met in a bar, Shawn would have thought she was a teenager. The pink blush on Isabella’s cheeks only added to that. Maybe she had used a fake ID at the bar… she could actually be a teenager.

Isabella caught him staring, and immediately knew what was on his mind. “I’m twenty-four, just so you know.”

“Oh, I wasn’t-” he tried to say.

“Lots of people give me that look. You know how many clients of mine think I’m an intern?”

Shawn blinked slowly, his hazy mind still processing what she just said. “Um, what is it that you do?”

“I’m a lawyer for muuu- ah, uh - immigration lawyer.” She grinned nonchalantly.

“That’s awesome,” Shawn said.

“Yeah, a few years back I volunteered my services when people in the States were being wrongfully detained at various airports,” she explained. “I got hired by a law firm in New York, so I lived there for a bit.”

Shawn was impressed, but he thought about exactly how long ago those events took place. He was still a little weary about Isabella and her age, so he counted backwards on his fingers. However, the math got difficult and fuzzy in his still inebriated mind, so he took her word for it.

“I promise you I’m older than I look,” Isabella said with a laugh. Then, she turned serious. “Can I be honest with you?”

He nodded rapidly, numbers still flying around in his head.

“I know you’re not just a mysterious stranger,” she admitted. “I know who you are.”

His eyes widened a little bit. Was this another disturbed fan interaction? Oh god, maybe he should have listened to Jake and gone back to the hotel.

“You performed at Sapphire Lilith’s birthday party,” Isabella clarified, seeing the look on his face. “I was there.”

“Oh,” Shawn said, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah. I performed at her house.” And he spent a blissful week with Sapphire, only to result in her ghosting him and the death of his best friend. He cleared his throat as that memory came to mind. “How do you know Sapphire?”

“Her parents died few years ago and she needed me to look over their wills,” Isabella said casually. “Oh, and she got robbed a few times and needed to me look into the legal part of it.”

Shawn tilted his head. “But aren’t you an immigration lawyer?”

“Yeah. We also went to the same sleepaway school years ago.” She shrugged. “Uniforms for girls were pink, but you would never catch me in that shit. I spray painted my dresses black and wore sneakers. I got in so much trouble.”

“Wow. Got ourselves a rebel here.” He chuckled, his hand sliding across the table.

Isabella was faster than him. A single blink later, and she was standing. “I think our order is ready.”

Something fell out of her pocket, making a small clattering noise. Shawn immediately reached down to pick up the item, only to be confused at what it was.

“You dropped your… wand?”

He didn’t even get a good look at the dark wood before Isabella snatched it out of his hand and shoved it back into her pocket. Her eyes were suspiciously wide again.

“I, uh, I love Henry Popper. Be right back!”

As Isabella went to the cashier, Shawn looked back at Jake two booths behind. He seemed more confused than suspicious. Or, spaced out. His eyes were staring back at the guy he was supposed to be guarding, but it didn’t look like he had processed anything that just happened.

Then, Isabella came back to the table, non-too-gently setting their tray down on the table. The noise was loud enough to make Shawn jump and face her again.

“Sorry for freaking out,” she said, somber.

“It’s okay. Hey, I love Harry Potter too,” he replied. “I’m obsessed. Did you get your wand at Universal?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m a Gryffindor.”

“Me too!”

Isabella pointedly grinned and tilted her head. “Really? You give off big Hufflepuff energy.”

“Why does everyone say that?” Shawn chuckled before taking a bite of his burger.

“Because it’s true?”

“And how would you know that?”

“Who has the wand between the two of us? And don’t talk with your mouth full!”

Shawn playfully narrowed his eyes as he chewed and swallowed. “Didn’t realize I was talking to the queen of all things Harry Potter!”

Isabella chuckled. “You could say he’s like a friend to me. As a matter of fact, I saw him yesterday when he came round for tea.”

That got a laugh out of him. Any worry he had about this girl was now gone. He would much rather be here than be alone with his thoughts in a hotel room. How often does he get a genuine conversation like this anyway? How often does he get the time to talk to anyone and form one-on-one connections?

He was doing exactly what he wanted to do: make music and perform it. Six years ago, Shawn had no idea what it would cost to be able to do this. When was the last time he had spoken to any of his friends? His family? He looked down at his meal, suddenly not very hungry.

“Hey!” Isabella said, lightly tapping his arm. “Don’t get sad on me now! Am I really that depressing to be around?”

“Of course not,” Shawn said without missing a beat. “And I’m not sad.”

“Please, you reek of stress, loss, and…” She sniffed the air. “Guilt?”

Shawn scrunched his brows, pretending like he was not just attacked. “Where do you get all that from?”

She coughed. “Just a guess. I imagine, being a mysterious stranger, it’s hard to come by actual friends.”

That was something he could talk about without getting too deep into his drunken feelings. “I… yeah. People define you by what you are on the outside and see nothing else. Don’t even take the time to see what’s inside, in your heart.”

Isabella was playing with her fries. “I know what that’s like. All I’ve ever been is a blood sucking parasite with a wand. Doing what you know you’re destined to do comes with a lot of sacrifices.”

“Absolutely,” Shawn agreed. His own cave of regrets came to mind, but he wasn’t drunk enough to share any of them.

next chapter

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @someoneunimportantxx @iloveshawnieboi @shawnsunflower @chillingbythesea @theprivatesmutacc 

[the-mykie-show]

When Rick's rebellious daughter gets caught in a dangerous situation outside the walls, Negan is there to prove he really is a savior by taking care of her in more ways then one.

*rating* explicit

*tags/warnings* graphic descriptions of sex, leather kink, oral sex, squinting, canon typical violence, description of injuries.

Negan was right, Rick Grimes was a prick. You didn't care if he was your dad.

You were a grown ass women now and you tired of being treated like a child and blamed for everything. Carl sneaks out and goes to Sanctuary and guns down Negan's men? It was your fault somehow, Spencer gets himself gutted for being a spineless douche wad? Your fault, Alexandria doesn't have enough supplies to appease the Saviors? Your fault. It was like your dad couldn't take the damn blame for anything even though you'd never have ended up in this mess if he hadn't killed an entire outpost of Saviors.

You angirly kick a rock in the trail. You really weren't supposed to be outside the walls of Alexandria, but you needed to cool off and blow off some steam. A walk in the woods and killing some undead freaks was exactly what you needed.

You see a walker shambling along the road ahead of you, a smile spreading across your face as you pull the hunting knife off your belt, allowing the growling and drooling walker to stagger closer before burying the knife in its squishy half decayed skull.

You notice it has a friend and do it all over again.

At first you aren't concerned when the walkers keep coming, you have it handled, but then they start coming faster, and then you get scared when they start coming faster than you can kill them.

A rather large male walker staggers forward, jaws snapping an inch from your face as it's weight crashed into you, taking a desperate step back you feel your foot slide into a pothole in the road and you go down with the walker. The wind is knocked out of you when you slam into the concrete, the corpse falling onto you giving you no time to catch your breath, and your ankle is burning with the distinct pain of a sprain.

You manage to rise your knife and stab the walker on top of you, but as soon it's weight goes dead another walker replaces it, snapping at you while you struggle.

The true fear sets in when you realize that you could die out here and nobody would even know where you were or what happened to you. Panic bubbles up and you struggle to get out from under the weight pinning you the asphalt, you want to scream but you know nobody is around to hear you but more of the undead, always on the prowl for another meal.

Just when you were about to accept your fate, you hear a loud squishy thud and the walker about to bite you falls dead once and for all.

Standing over you with his ever present cocky smirk lighting up his scruffy, undeniably handsome face, and his beloved bat thrown over his leather clad shoulder, still coated in the blood of the walker he'd just killed was Negan.

It slowly dawns on you that Negan of all people had just saved your life, and he knew it to.

“You alright, darlin’?” he asks, grabbing the walker and heaving it off you.

“I think.” you're finally able to breathe properly with the weight of the walker gone from your chest.

“No bites? Scratches?” he heaves the other walker off your legs.

“No. But I think my ankle is sprained.” he held out a gloved hand to you, and you reluctantly take it, letting him pull you to your feet, and wrap an arm around your waist to support you.

“So miss Grimes,there a reason you're out here all on your own?” A small convoy of Saviors looks on, their guns aren't raised at you, but you can tell they're suspicious of you nonetheless. You're an Alexandrian, you're Rick's daughter, and you're their enemy. It makes you wonder why Negan even bothered going out of his way to save you?

“No, just blowing off some steam.” you admit with a shrug.

“No offense, but damn honey, that is a stupid ass reason to risk your life coming out here.” he replies. “C'mon we'll get that ankle taken care of and take you home.”

“You're not scheduled for a pick up in Alexandria until next week?” you point out, dusting yourself off.

“No, but we got a convoy on the road heading to an outpost, Alexandria isn't far out of the way, and I just wouldn't feel right leaving you out here all alone.” That was odd, Negan was doing something nice for someone for no reason other than he just wanted to? That didn't seem like the Negan you were familiar with.

“I'd be fine, really.” you try to argue.

“Not with your ankle all fucked up you won't be. I fuckin’ insist.” he leads you to the treeline, helping you walk and supporting most of your weight towards a nearby road where several box trucks and some smaller vehicles are parked, with a few more Saviors waiting.

“Why are you helping me?” you finally get up the nerve to ask. “You hate my father, why would you even care about what happens to me?”

“Because I'm not a monster, darlin’, I don't like killing women, I don't like watching women die, and I sure as shit don't like the things men out here do to women out here alone. It doesn't matter that you're Rick's kid, I'd do this shit for anyone. And besides, I like you.” he finished with a wink, and lead you to an open box truck in the middle of the convoy, and then reaches down and knocks your legs out from under you, sweeping you into his arms and plopping you down on the bed of the truck.

You nod, processing everything he'd just told you.

The longer you thought about it the harder it hit you that Negan had gone out of his way to help you, took a risk for both himself and his people, and saved your life when he easily could have kept driving and let you face the consequences of your actions. It makes you wonder if the situation was reversed and your dad found a Savior women hurt and fighting for her life on the side of the road would he do the same?

“Mind if I take a look?” Negan asks, bending down and taking your leg gently in his hands.

“No, go ahead.” he carefully pulls your boot and sock off, and rolls up your jeans leg, he's surprisingly gentle as he holds up your injury to the light to get a better look at it.

“Does this hurt?” he asks, running his fingers over the bruise.

“No.” you answered.

“Good news is I don't think it's broken, but it's pretty badly sprained. Hey Dwight! Grab me the first aid kit out of the truck.” the blond man with the burnt face hurries to a truck further down the line and return with the kit, handing it to Negan.

He carefully wraps your ankle with ease, he's definitely done this before.

“What did you do before all of this?” you ask, you fear you're prying too much, but he just smiles.

“Maybe I'll tell you sometime, but a man's gotta keep an air of mystery.” his smile turns dark, but his hands are still incredibly gentle around your leg.

“Your dad know you come out here?” he asks, replacing the items he didn't need in the first aid kit.

“No.” you admit.

“Is he the reason why you need to come out here and blow off some steam on these undead fucks?” Negan asks, as if he's read your mind.

“Sometimes.” you shrug.

Once your ankle is bandaged up and you prove you can at least put weight on it with help, Negan leads you to a motorcycle parked in the middle of the convoy.

“You think you're good to ride with me?” he asks, gesturing to the bike.

“Yeah, I think so.”

He climbs on first, throwing his long leg over the bike, and offering you his arm for support while you climb on behind him, gingerly easing your leg over the seat, being extra gentle you don't bump the injury. You manage to get seated with minimal joselsing, and secure the helmet Negan handed you.

You know the drill already, and as soon as the bike roars to life under you, you wrap your arms around Negan's waist, interlocking your fingers over the smooth leather of his jacket. Your dad would kill you if he knew this wasn't your first time on a motorcycle.

He'd probably kill you twice if he knew you were this close to Negan and finding yourself enjoying it.

It had been a while since you'd been with a man, since you'd been physically close to anyone really, sexually or in a completely innocent sort of way, and it was really hitting you hard now.

For a long time life had been all about surviving to see another sunrise, there was little time or privacy to indulge in intimacy with another person, not to mention limited options….

You cringe remembering all the times Spencer had come onto you, as if that spineless little jerk was your type. Negan on the other hand? He was exactly what you use to go for back in the day, a bit older, scruffy and leather clad; embodying the tall, dark, and handsome stereotype perfectly.

You find yourself wondering if you're his type too?

A little voice in the back of your mind whispers that there's only one way to find out, and you might only have this one chance.

Would that really be such a crime? He was hot, and not to mention actually really sweet to you.

Before you can stop yourself your hand wanders lower on his abdomen, toying with the buckle securing the leather belt of his jacket. You can feel his body tense under your touch, you're not sure if it's from arousal, or surprise, or both, but he lets you keep going. Your hand slips lower, over the belt that hung low on his hips holding a large hunting knife, and lower still until you trace the tips of your fingers over the bulge in his pants. And it's quite a bulge.

You feel him twitch under your touch, and your so distracted with feeling him up you don't notice he broke away from the convoy and turned off onto a side road until he's slowing the bike.

He stops the bike outside of a small cabin nestled just out of sight from the road, and kills the engine.

“Are you trying to fucking make me wreck?” he growls, his voice the only sound breaking the dead silence of the peaceful afternoon.

He yanks a radio off his belt and orders the convoy to wait for him at a nearby rest stop, stating with a smirk that he had something to take care of.

“You really weren't kidding about the rebelling against your dad shit huh?” he grins.

“It isn't just that… it's been awhile since I've been with anyone, attracted enough to anyone.” you admit, he helps you off the motorcycle and pulls you toward him,still helping you support yourself.

“And I guess I'm the lucky guy who won your affections?” there's a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but there's something genuine here too.

“I guess so.” he answers by leaning down and pressing a kiss on your lips, it's surprisingly gentle at first, his hand knotting in your hair as his lips move softly against yours, his beard scratching against your skin. Warmth spreads through your body as the kiss heats up, his tongue slipping into your mouth and his teeth nip your bottom lip.

“You sure you want to do this? Your dad is gonna be pissed if he finds out, so would the rest of your friends.” he says breaking the kiss.

“Who says they have to know?” you ask “I want this.”

“In that case you don't have to ask me twice.”

He yanks you off your feet for the second time that day, and takes you into his arms, carrying you bridal style up the porch stairs of the little cabin and kicking the door open.

It's small inside, but quaint. With an open floor plan, it has a small kitchen visible from the living room area, where there's a small couch in front of the fireplace, and a mattress sitting on the floor near a set of bay windows.

“What is this place? Some kind of ‘just in case’ hide away?” you ask.

“Not exactly. It's just a little place I like to come when I need to get away. Somewhere that's just mine.” you can tell he's being genuine, but you don't make it awkward so you give him the sarcastic response you know he expects.

“Do you take all the girls you fuck here?” you tease.

He laughs “can't say that I do, you're the first.”

“Well in that case, I'm flattered.” you smirk, and his lips crash against yours again in another heated kiss.

He dumps you on the mattress, careful not to bump your ankle, but he doesn't hesitate to unzip your jacket and slide it off your shoulders, his fingertips running over the skin he'd exposed on your chest.

You do the same with his jacket, running your fingers over the smooth, worn leather before shoving if off him.

“You got a thing for leather, sweetheart?” his eyebrows raise.

“Maybe.” you admit, biting your lip.

“You want me to leave it on?” he asks, and you nod eagerly. He stands up, pulling his shirt over his head and replacing the jacket, leaving it open over his bare chest, revealing his tan, toned chest, with a smattering of dark hair that disappeared into the waistband of his loose fitting jeans.

You pull your shirt off over your head, while he watches you intently.

“You really are so fucking beautiful, if I didn't know better I'd never believe you were Rick the pricks kid.” you don't know if you should be flattered or offended. That seemed to the general consensus with Negan.

You unbuckle your belt and Negan helps you pull your pants off, still being so gentle with your wounded ankle, before reaching for his own belt, and dropping his pants and boxers all at once.

He was really not kidding about his dick. He was very well endowed, so well that it makes you a little nervous, you didn't know exactly how long it had been since the last time you'd had sex but it had been long enough for you to be sure that accommodating him would take some foreplay and a few minutes to adjust.

Negan crawls over you, pressing his lips to yours again, his hand cupping your cheek for a moment before sliding lower, his fingers caressing your jaw and brushing the sensitive skin of your neck on the way down to cup your breast. His thumb teasingly brushes your nipple making it harden under his touch, and heat instantly pool in your core. You feel him smirk against your lips, he can already tell what his touch does to your body, how responsive you are to him.

He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your jaw and planting soft open mouthed kisses on your neck, finally reaching that little spot where your neck meets your shoulder and sucking on it until you're sure he left a mark, before reaching his final destination and takes the nipple he'd teases with his fingers between his lips and sucks illecting a moan from you.

Once he's satisfied with how wet and swollen his mouth left your nipple he switches to the other, sucking it until it's hardened too, each lap of his tongue sending a jolt pleasure straight to your clit, making you arch your back into him each time.

You don't fully realize what he's doing when his lips brush down over your stomach and his hands start to roll your panties off, then it hits you that he wants to eat you out.

Your only long term partner before the world ended had never wanted to do that to you, and you'd been too embarrassed to ask him for it despite being curious, everyone else was just casual hookups and never tired to go down on you. You're a little shocked Negan wants to dive right into the deep end.

“Negan, wait.” you fidget nervously.

“What's wrong sweetheart?” he stops midway through putting your leg over his shoulder.

“Just I've never…. I mean nobody has done this to me before.” he stares at you with raised eyebrows.

“You for real? Nobody has ever eaten you out before?”

“No.” you admit sheepishly.

“Why not? Was it because you didn't want it?”

“No, nobody I ever slept with wanted to do it and I just never asked.” you explain.

“If you want, I'll gladly be your fucking first time.” he smirks.

You nod “Okay, I mean why not? Carpe diem and all that shit.” he positions your legs over his shoulders, with a grin, his beard scratching against your inner thighs as he presses kisses against the sensitive skin. You find it surprisingly easy to relax into the unfamiliar sensations he's stirring up.

Watching your face closely, he takes the first soft lick against your folds, a surprised breathy “oh!” slips out when his tongue runs over your clit. He seems satisfied with your reaction, this time taking a broad lap from your entrance to your clit, and letting the tip of his tongue circle the swollen bundle of nerves.

“Feel good?” he asks, his ever present smirk still in place.

“Mhhhm.” you moan.

He sucks on the sensitive bud, teasing it with slow licks, making your hand involuntarily grab a hand full of his hair, a surprisingly loud whimper of pleasure leaving your body.

His tongue dips lower, circling your entrance teasingly and slipping inside, and it feels better than you could have ever imagined. Your hips try to jerk against his mouth, but his strong hands easily hold you still, letting him have his fill of you until the warm, wet sensations get to be too much for you and you come against his mouth.

Sitting up, he wipes your juices off his beard on the back of his hand, and cralws over you again.

“Do you want me to… Uh return the favor?” you ask.

“As much I'd love for you to put that sassy ass mouth to some good use, I don't want you fucking up your ankle even worse and I tend to get a little rough when it comes to getting my cock sucked. Congrats darlin’ you get a freebie.” he smirked.

You really wouldn't have minded giving him a blow job, but you appreciate the concern, and take the win, pulling him into another kiss by the lapels of his jacket, letting your hands run over the smooth leather as he deepens the kiss.

Your so distracted by his mouth on yours you don't feel him reach down, lining himself up with your entrance until you feel his tip against you. Your nails digging into his leather clad shoulder as he fills you. Almost instantly making you forget the pain in your ankle with pleasure again, a shaky breath leaving your body as you adjust to his size.

He gives you your moment to get use to him, but then starts slowly rocking his hips against yours, gentle at first, but quickly building to rougher pace. Your second orgasm building quickly too, you wrap your still good leg around his waist, letting the damaged one lay limp against the mattress, it takes all your self control to keep it there, you want to pull him closer, if that's even possible. You already feel so full, and most of his weight is on you, but you still want more.

Your body involuntarily clenched hard around him when he hit that perfect spot inside you, making him groan.

“Fuck, just like, baby.” you try to get to yourself to do it again and your body gladly cooperates, somehow pushing his member even deeper inside you.

His hand reached down between you and started rubbing rubbing circles around your already throbbing and arousal soaked clit, making your walls flutter around him with the beginnings of your orgasm.

He gently pinches the sensitive bundle of nerves between his thumb and index finger, and that's all it takes to send you over the edge, your nails rake down his back, probably hard enough to scratch the leather. It's the most intense orgasm you've ever had, and you're surprised by the warm, wet gushing sensation between your legs at first, and then you're embarrassed by it.

But if Negan notices he doesn't mind, because he keeps fucking you until he finds his own release and explodes inside you.

He pulls out, making you whimper a little at the loss even though you're also overstimulated, and inspects the mess you've made all over his cock, and yourself, and the mattress.

“Hot damn! Why didn't you tell me you're a squirter?” he said with a ear to ear grin.

You feel your face heat up. “I didn't know I could do that.” you admit sheepishly “I'm sorry.”

“What the fuck for? That's hot as shit.” he gives you a soft, reassuring kiss to solidify he's not mad about the mess you made.

“It did feel really good.” once the embarrassment faded you realized it was really amazing and you already kind of want to do it again. Nobody before Negan had made your body do that, and you wonder why he was so special.

He hands you back your clothes, and then goes about putting his own back on, you watch him silently for a moment while you work your jeans over your injured ankle, and replace your bra.

He's buckling his belt when you finally get the courage to ask.

“Hey, Negan. How did you do that?”

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“Make me come like that.” you can't look him in the eyes when you say it, something about him makes you feel like some horny, innocent, not quite virginal but inexperienced teenager again.

He laughed “practice and a little luck. Maybe I'll show you sometime if you're up for it.” he winks, offering you his hand for the second time today to pull you up from the mattress.

He carries you back outside to the bike, and when you get on you can already feel that little ache between your legs that only gets left the wake of a thorough fucking.

[marvelandimagine]

Framework (Part Two)

Summary: Request - Bucky x reader songfic where he pushes her away and they break up but he’s miserable without her and it all ends in fluff and apologies

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 2,200

Author’s Note: This was literally the hardest chapter I’ve ever written idk why but I should probably start outlining instead of winging it 25/7 lol anywho sorry this took forever and hopefully p3 will come to my brain faster! / based on Framework by The Story So Far

Taglist: @firefly-in-darkness @emptynote @buckysgoddess

How’d this happen?

Found your way in

So distracting

Splitting me in half again

Can’t ever sever the ties I made

The knots are strong

The framework’s laid

No matter how many things I say

The tangible will always be what I crave

Six agonizing days pass, with Bucky coming to the conclusion that he actually can’t live with his decision. He feels like he’s drowning in regret, his anxiety is off the charts, and, plainly, he’s just fucking miserable.

Despite everything he said to you, to himself, to Sam, it’s become crystal clear that not having you in his life is hurting him way more than confronting his trust issues and fear of impermanence.

He misses you like hell. The scent of your clothes, the way you laugh, the warmth in your eyes and on your fingertips. How perfectly your bodies fit together, the way you gasp and growl his name. How you would hold him to your chest, tracing soothing patterns across his skin when he couldn’t stop shaking from the nightmares and the flashbacks. How funny and beautiful and kind you are. Even things that had irritated him, your reiterated suggestions of different therapies and mindfulness techniques (some that had helped you personally), how you never tried to hide rolling your eyes, you constantly misplacing your keys/phone/wallet and him finding it within seconds -- he missed it all. All of you, the good and bad, had somehow become woven into his being. He could sooner get rid of how he felt about you than get rid of himself.

He told himself he wouldn’t do it, but he’s been repeatedly checking your Instagram page, heart thudding each time as he anticipates seeing the pictures of the two of you together deleted -- or worse, seeing you with another guy’s arm wrapped around you. So far, though, there’s been nothing except a video post of your dog, Balto, howling and grinning at your TV screen when Ghost appears on the latest Game of Thrones. It just makes his heart ache more, that he chose to remove himself from these small, wonderful little moments in your life, and for what? 

He keeps staring at your number, his thumb hovering above the screen before he chucks the phone to the side, rubbing his eyes as he once again chickens out of contacting you. 

He reaches the breaking point when he starts reading back through old texts from around the time when you two first started dating. 

“I know we just said bye five minutes ago but I just wanted to say how happy I am that I met you. And you are definitely cuter than I am. That is all! Night, Buck.” And now the same blushing smile emoji that had him grinning from ear to ear makes his heart twinge.

“What the fuck did you do, Barnes?” he asks himself, letting the phone drop to his forehead with a dull thunk. 

He knows he wants—needs—you back, but he doesn’t know where to even begin. 

He sighs, grimacing as he rolls himself out of bed and trudges out toward the living room. There’s only one thing to do.

Bucky can already hear Sam’s voice emanating down the hall as he approaches:

“You call THAT avant garde?! That silhouette is as bland as toast. TOAST, Nina!”

Bucky sits himself down in the ottoman in the corner, careful not to walk in front of Sam — he thought he’d never hear the end of it when he accidentally blocked the screen during the last Grey’s Anatomy season finale.

“Project Runway again?” he asks, shaking his head.

“Hey, don’t you be getting all judgey now.” Sam smirks at Bucky, taking in his disheveled state. “You need to be jotting down notes, Kurt Cobain, wearing the same grungey-ass flannel three days in a row.”

Bucky shrugs.

“Not like I have anyone to impress.”

“You had someone to impress, but remember, you broke up with her, you cowardly fucking jackass.”

Bucky clenches his teeth as his scathing tone rattles in his head. He tries his best to ignore it and sound nonchalant as he swallows his pride to do something that normally sets his skin on edge: reach out to another person.

“Anyways, you busy?”

“Nah, I’ve had enough disappointment for today.” Sam grabs the remote, shutting off the screen and shifting to look at Bucky. “What’s up?”

Bucky exhales deeply, and he can practically feel the apprehension settling on his face, his habitual reluctance to open up kicking in.

“Um …” 

He bites the corner of his lip, trying to think over his words when his gut just wants him to yell, “I FUCKED UP please tell me how to get Y/N back.”

He’s spared having to, though, as Sam cuts through the silence:

“You want to get back together with Y/N, don’t you?”

Bucky stares at him.

“Is my misery that obvious?”

“Painfully.”

Despite his deadpan tone, the corner of Sam’s mouth twitches, and the two find themselves chuckling together. While he’ll never admit it to him, this is why Bucky views him as his best friend, why he trusts him -- he always knows how to make him laugh when he needs it. He knows Sam has his back.

Bucky shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.

“So, what do I do?”

“Before I can try to answer that, you need to tell me why you broke up with her in the first place.”

Thought I’d burn the seams if they frayed

Thought I’d prove the point that I made

“I thought if I ended things, I’d be able to stop caring and feeling so vulnerable, I guess. That it’d be better for her, because she deserved better anyways, and maybe it’d be better for me … I don’t think I really believed that, deep down, but … I was scared. Scared of getting hurt, not being enough.” 

Bucky pauses and sighs, staring at the ground as he wrings his hands, running his flesh thumb back and forth over the smooth metal.

His voice is quiet, apprehensive.

“I was scared of how I felt about her.” 

Bucky glances up after a few moments of silence and is met with Sam looking at him more seriously than he can ever remember.

“Do you love her?”

Normally Bucky would flinch at such a direct question, but now, finally facing the consequences of keeping himself so guarded, he hesitates only for a fraction of a second before he nods, and it feels like a weight has left his chest in acknowledging how he feels.

He loves you. And he doesn’t have to run from that.

Sam nods back in response, running his hand along the dark stubble on his face as he begins in earnest.

“Look … you have a lot of regret in your life, right? I know it’s over things you didn’t choose, but now, you can choose. So what’s your choice gonna be? The way I see it, A) You can keep doing what you’re doing and let fear run you into the ground, or, B) you can tell that fear to go to hell, reach out to Y/N, buy her the nicest apology flowers you can, and tell her everything you just told me.”

“And if she tells me to go to hell?”

Sam sighs.

“I mean, she’s probably going to be pretty pissed at you —and rightfully so— but,” he pauses, his tone lightening, “God knows why, she seemed to really be into you. And nobody gets over a breakup that fast unless the relationship was already dead for awhile. You guys looked like you were solid until -”

“I blew everything to pieces, yeah.” 

Bucky sits quietly for a few seconds, pausing to sit and feel the knowing. The alignment in both his heart and mind, what he wants moving forward.

“I think choice B is the clear winner, here.” 

Sam waves his fist back and forth.

“Ding ding ding!”

Bucky nods.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice earnest as his eyes lock on Sam’s.

Sam’s returning smile is full of encouragement.

“Hey man, I got you. And I know this ain’t easy for you, opening up about stuff. Just know there’s always a seat at the VA group just waiting for your supersoldier ass to sit down, if you ever want to talk more.” 

 “Nah I’m-” Bucky physically stops himself from finishing his default “nah, I’m good for now, but thanks” response, because if he’s realized anything throughout this entire ordeal, it’s that he is most definitely not “good,” or at least not doing as good as he’d like to be.

“Yeah, ok, I’ll do it.”

“For real?”

Bucky exhales deeply, his sadness hanging on every syllable.

“With all this … I don’t know, maybe I wouldn’t have acted the way I did with Y/N if I had started dealing with this sooner, getting more okay with talking and being honest with people,” he muses. “Like you said, if I really do want a normal life, I kinda need to find a better way to handle what’s going on in here,” he taps his temple and then his chest, “than just shutting people out.”

Incredulity is all over Sam’s face, coupled that something Bucky could swear looks like a glimmer of pride. 

“Wow, yeah, that’s great, that’s the kind of perspective that’ll help you move forward.” He grins. “You sure you’re feeling ok? This isn’t some fever-induced thing, right?” 

Bucky flips him off while Sam chuckles.

“Hilarious.”

“You know I’m playin.’” Sam nods vigorously. “Seriously, it’ll be good for you. Anyways, though, back to choice B.”

Bucky feels the rise and fall of his chest pick up in nervous anticipation, but he slides the phone out from the pocket of his jeans anyways, thumbs tapping away on its surface. 

“Hey. Can we meet up?” 

Before he can second guess himself, he hits send, promptly hurling the phone onto the opposite corner of the couch where Sam is perched.

“Watch it!”

“You tell me what she says back. I don’t wanna see it first.”

However long you’re gone, I will wait, I will wait.

And then an agonizing, crawling two hours pass, with Bucky finding himself unable to focus on the National Geographic moon landing documentary that would normally absorb him entirely, his eyes constantly straying from the screen to the phone sitting silently in the corner. You never took this long to answer a text when you were dating, so he knows you’re ignoring him.

“Maybe she blocked you and didn’t even see it.”

He’s just about to ask Sam for the phone back to message you on Instagram, past the point of caring how desperate he looks because it’s the truth, when it pings.

Sam snaps out from his half-napping state at the sound, stretching across the couch and grabbing the phone. He pulls a face and Bucky’s heart sinks -- Sam might as well have said “yikes” out loud.

“What’d she say?”

Sam looks at him with the tiniest bit of pity, tossing the phone back.

“Why.”

“Why? That’s it?” Bucky looks down at the screen in disbelief, and there it is, the one-word response.

“Yup.”

Bucky buries his head in the throw pillow closest to him, muffling his yell. 

“What do I even say to that?! She’s pissed off, and I don’t wanna do this over text.”

“You don’t have to do it all over text, but you gotta give her something. The last thing you said to her was that you wanted to break up, and now you want to see her. I’m guessing she doesn’t want to assume you want to get back together, but if you do, she wants you to know she’s still upset.” Sam shrugs. “You messed up, now you gotta work for it.”

Bucky takes the pillow off his face, grimacing.

“Goddammit.”

He takes a minute to craft his reply, staring down at the screen.

“Because you were right about everything. I never should have ended us, I’m an idiot and miss you like hell. I just want to talk.” He hits send and turns the phone over, heart thumping inside his chest.

Ten minutes pass before you answer:

“I’ll be home until 7, I have plans after.”

Bucky’s stomach drops as his brain conjures images of you dressed up but not for him, for some other guy, his metal hand clenching involuntarily.

“You don’t know that you don’t know that, c’mon. It’s only been six days.”

He replies immediately:

“Can I come see you at 5?”

“Ok.”

Even with the realization that it’s already 4:10 and he’s gonna have to haul ass to Adams Morgan while still finding the time to get you the nicest flowers he can, Bucky already feels lighter with hope. You agreed to see him. You’re giving him at least a fraction of a chance to put things back together. 

He flies up off the couch and takes off down the hall.

“I’m meeting her at her place at 5!”

Sam calls out to his retreating back, and Bucky allows himself a small smile.

“Hey, go get her. But you go shower first!”

[shions-heart]

🖊

so i got this four months ago and i was supposed to talk about my ocs but by the time i got it i was exhausted and didn’t and then i kept forgetting about it but now i’m here and i’m going to talk about Caleb Greene because ya’ll need to know more about my son who i love very very much

((tw for child abuse and self-harm))

Caleb Greene is one of the protagonists of my original novel Mnemosyne (which you can read the first five chapters on my patreon for free via this post). He’s a little shit, but that’s mainly because he’s got a wall up 6 feet thick to protect himself. He’s Irish and Lakota/Sioux mixed (light brown skin, freckles, green eyes, and brown hair, shaggy and long at first before he cuts it into a mohawk fade) and grew up on a reservation in North Dakota in a foster home with a foster father and foster brother who both abused him (the father physically, the brother sexually). He ran away at the age of 12 and came across Faith Middleton, who was protesting a kill shelter all by her middle-school lonesome. When some boys tried to pick on her, he beat them up and stood with her until her mom came to get her and she invited him over for dinner and they were best friends ever since.

He’s 5′6 (malnutrition stunted his growth), lean and wiry, all sharp angles and intensity. Attractive in a scary way. Like he catches your eye and then it’s intimidating cuz it looks like he could devour you, with his crooked smirk/grin and sharp canines. However, his fashion sense is horrible. He purposefully dresses poorly for the cold (a form of self-harm) so he can be seen in ripped (not intentional, just old) jeans, a worn t-shirt that usually says something stupid like “got milk?”, a thread-bare zip-up hoodie and sneakers in sub-zero weather. This is pretty much his wardrobe all year-round. He works at a bakery called Life of Pie and uses his earnings mostly on books until Faith forces him to go to the thrift store to get actual clothes. Or he just raids the lost and found at school. He’s homeless for a long time without the others knowing, and when they do Faith has him move in with her and her mom. He also smokes, which Faith thinks is disgusting and tries to make him quit.

He’s incredibly loyal and fiercely protective. He’s got a big heart and feels everything so keenly, but because of his abuse he keeps his heart locked up tight and hates feeling vulnerable. He’ll brush off serious topics with jokes and self-deprecating humor, and often makes snide remarks. He’s got a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue and can hold a grudge like nobody’s business. He’s also extremely perceptive, able to pick up on people’s insecurities and weaknesses and often exploits them for his own benefit (in that effort to keep people at arms length and protect himself); unless he likes the person, then he’ll use his perception to know just what to say to make them feel better or know exactly the type of gift they want and somehow get it for them (probably by stealing lbr). He hates being touched except by those he trusts (Faith, and their friends Rae Branford and Jason Quincy). That he’s very serious about. Trust is another thing he’s serious about. Since he doesn’t trust easily, once he decides someone is trustworthy, if they break that trust it’s extremely difficult to get him to forgive them or trust them again.

speaking of Jason … my boy. my son. my poor child. Caleb is hopelessly in love with the guy and he kind of hates himself for it. Jason Quincy is rich. Filthy rich. His parents gave him a Corvette for his 16th birthday rich. Being a black family in a predominately white area means his family has a lot of pride and work hard on their image to maintain the upmost purity so nobody can say they don’t deserve their success. Because of this, his parents are unfortunately homophobic pieces of shit, and Caleb hates them. Absolutely loathes them. He wants Jason to come out and be proud of it, to be proud of them together (because he knows Jason likes him too), but he also understands the fear of being who you are in a cruel environment so while he’s frustrated by Jason’s unwillingness to stand up to his parents, he doesn’t try to push. Unless he’s in a bad mood. Then he tends to take it out on Jason (and Faith and Rae) and then himself as punishment for taking it out on them.

The thing about Jason is that he’s good. He’s a genuinely good, kind, compassionate, helpful, sweet guy who puts others first and will inconvenience himself in the process. Caleb hates that. He thinks Jason deserves better, that Jason should treat himself better. Which is why he hates himself for being in love with the guy, because Caleb sees himself as someone dirty and bad and broken and he doesn’t want to stain Jason with all that, but he also desperately wants to love and be loved so it’s a tragic push and pull with the two of them. Jason wants to love Caleb, but Caleb lashes out at him. Then Caleb wants Jason’s affection, but Jason is afraid of his parents’ wrath. They go around and around like this and it hurts but they can’t seem to break the toxic cycle because Caleb refuses to see himself as worthy of the love he so desperately wants, and Jason fears the consequences of letting himself love Caleb openly, even though he wants to.

This downward spiral of Caleb’s leads to him joining a gang and falling in with two of its members: Isaak Carver and his sadistic twin Jakob. Isaak, who is everything Caleb hates in himself (selfish, cruel, passive-aggressive, manipulative) wants to own and control Caleb, and Jakob, who enjoys causing others physical pain, uses Caleb as his own personal carving canvas. Caleb lets all this happen because he thinks he deserves it, despite Faith, Rae, and Jason insisting that he doesn’t and trying to convince him to break away from the twins and the gang

In my original draft for this novel, Jason dies in a car accident before he can tell Caleb he loves him. He finally stands up to his parents, but on his way to tell Caleb, he gets into a car accident (inadvertently caused by the Carver twins) and dies. Having hit the ultimate rock bottom, Caleb finally lets himself lean on Faith and Rae and leaves the twins and learns that the love Faith and Rae have for him can be enough (having been obsessed with getting Jason’s love for so long, he’d overlooked the love he already had (i.e. family and platonic love is just as good/strong)). But after thinking it over for a couple years I decided to not play into the “bury your gays” trope and I’m trying to think of a way to help them change the toxicity into something productive and fulfilling. Because they both deserve love and I want them to be happy in the end. (Also, fun fact: Jason is 6′ and has been described to have strong features and a god-like body so, do with that mental image with these two what you will.)

So yeah, that’s Caleb Greene, my tragic tragic boy. One of these days I’ll finish your story!

[fashiongarment3-blog]

The way to Save Money When Getting Children's Apparel

CHILDREN'S CLOTHING suppliers china

Do anyone have children and seeking regarding ways to preserve money on children's outfits? Everybody wants the almost all for the the very least total of money. This content covers ways of saving funds on children's clothes also if you are straight into name brand apparel.

CHILDREN'S CLOTHING suppliers china

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6) If you have "set an image" you wish to satisfy for on your own and your family, an individual can even now utilize portion of these strategies along with make the impression you would like. Especially for your daughters, yet daughters too, anyone can buy far more identify brand tops / tops, and just a several pair of denims. When you can get out with getting just often the name brand shirts, it is possible to explain to your youthful kid that very handful of people can tell the between name brand skinny jeans in addition to regular, reasonably rapid charged jeans, because the actual shirts as well as tops are generally usually worn outside the house and also you can't see the particular company logo on the trousers anyway.

7) I include found with our young children, top quality athletic shoes along with casual sneakers are well worth the money. It features been the experience that will quality shoes or boots are excellent for their feet, don longer, and look wonderful far too.

8) I desire as a small mommy, MORE THAN ANYTHING, you might have pointed the next in order to me. You may need as many clothing items as you think you actually do! We could lucky plenty of to have a machine in addition to dryer and we all can buy much less objects and keep them inside cycle. If your child and daughter have considerably more than a couple weeks of tshirts / covers, nobody is usually going to remember whatever they wore before. As regarding shoes and boots, they outgrow these people and so quickly; it is definitely not wise to purchase many pair of footwear. Usually one particular pair involving athletic shoes, *one couple of casual shoes (Sperry)(*optional), and also a pair of dress sneakers are more as compared to ample. They will be throughout the next sizing just before you know it!

9) If your kids are deeper in age, tend not to acquire the same pattern connected with shirt / top for every single age child. This may help your being in a position to re-use for that more radiant child, the more mature ones' clothing when he or she exceeds them. Along a similar series, buy as many standard items as you can certainly and still connect with your own personal goals. For example, Rob Lauren polo shirts possess slept a classic.

10) You don't have in order to get everything you will need in one shopping vacation. Keep in mind typically the 80 instructions 20 Principle, when you take into account the sum of money you usually are spending. A lot of people wear even just the teens of the clothes with their closet, 80% of that time period! If you don't obtain a lot of outfits at the same moment, your children will have got time and energy to think about "the look" they really want, and many people will be a whole lot more vulnerable to wear almost everything in their storage room. That also seems to often the children just like they tend to be getting more when there are numerous different shopping trips.

11) You may allow by yourself to spent more than on your personal oldest child's apparel when you are planning in laundering, providing, and saving the garments for the actual next child to have on. If you do, pick out the particular clothing items that are usually in good shape and retail outlet as well as label the class and scale clothing. That works extremely nicely, specifically if there is a great age difference of two yrs or more involving the little ones.

12) If you are usually totally into name manufacturer clothing and so will carry out, shop online and typically you will find good deals. Based upon on the state, you possibly will not have to pay gross sales tax. You can spend less a whole lot. Make sure what exactly size you require, order, and also you will have these individuals a few weeks. Be sure to be able to check out the suppliers given that sell name model clothing on discounted rates. You can find amazing will buy on designer apparel in this particular type store, consequently why pay much more?

[discyours]

Depressed passing guide

I see a lot of passing guides around, and they’re great, but they usually assume you have 100% of your energy to put into passing. For those of us who have like 24 other mental illnesses that make gender dysphoria take the backseat, that’s not always realistic. So here’s some shit I’ve noticed can help you pass that doesn’t take much effort. I’m pre-t FTM so most of these tips will mainly be applicable if you are too.  Ps, you’re not required to pass in order to be “”valid””. Most of us want to and it can be important to stay safe, but remember you’re doing this for you, not the rest of the world.  General : Most pre-t guys will naturally look closest to 12-15 years old if they do pass. I know most of us hate not being treated our age but embracing this will make passing 100x easier. Match your mannerisms to those of teenage boys, and when looking for clothes/hairstyles try to match your perceived age rather than your actual age.  Clothing:  General rule for all clothes: don’t underestimate the kids’ section, and shop online if you can’t find your size. If both of those fail you, you can try to order internationally. Asian men have much smaller frames so clothes from China work great, just be careful not to order from dodgy sites. Tailors are also a good option if you can afford them.  Never get your jeans in the women’s section. They’ll be cut to accentuate your hips 99% of the time. If you can find men’s or boys’ jeans that fit your hips, straight leg is best. If you can’t, don’t sweat it you have other options. 

Sweatpants/joggers are great. They’ll go past your hips without issue because of the elastic, and if you don’t already pass nobody will look at you weird for going into the mens section to buy what’s widely recognised as very fucking comfortable clothing. Get a pair that’s looser on top and tighter on the bottom if you can, it keeps you from looking like a total slob. Stick to dark colours as they’ll slim down your hips.  For t-shirts, get something slim fit/athletic fit, and get it as close to your size as possible. Aside from your chest, your arms are the most obvious sign you’re not cis on your upper half. Getting shirts with tighter arm holes will give the illusion that you’re muscly, or at least not a total string bean. Once again, stick to dark colours. Large colour differences between your top and bottom half will draw a line across your body, making you look shorter. Graphic tees are a hit or miss. They can help conceal your chest and they fit the teenage boy look, but since they’re unisex they could end up making you look like a tomboy.    Avoid flannel, it’s associated with butch lesbians and could make people think you are one too.

Hoodies are a lifesaver. They’re easy to layer with (especially the zip-up kind) which will help conceal your chest. Rolling up the sleeves to your elbows makes them hug your arms tightly, making them look more muscular. Putting up the hood will make you look masculine, or at least hide feminine features somewhat. If you’re too small for men’s jackets, layering a zip-up hoodie with a (faux) leather jacket will look masculine and mimic the style a lot of men’s jackets have.  Binding: 

First of all, if you’re going to bind, be as safe as possible (there’s always risks, keep that in mind). 8 hours a day MAXIMUM (and maximum does not mean that that’s an allowance you need to use up every day), take it off as often as possible, and don’t ever sleep or exercise in your binder. Listen to your body, take a break when it hurts. Don’t bind with ace bandages or tape, just generally avoid homemade binders. And for the love of god, don’t get a cheap amazon/aliexpress/wish/ebay binder. If you bind unsafely, you can break your ribs, permanently deform your rib cage/collarbones, damage your soft tissues (which seriously reduces your chances of getting good top surgery results), permanently reduce your lung capacity, and just generally damage your body so much that you will never be able to bind again. Don’t be stupid.  Gc2b and underworks are the most popular and safest binder brands. Generally speaking, gc2b is better for smaller chests and underworks is better for larger chests.  There are two main styles of binders, tri-top and full tank. Tri-top does everything you need, full tank binders just add more (non-compressive) fabric to the bottom. Tri-top tends to be more comfortable as there’s no extra fabric to bunch up, but if you want your binder to be subtle if you have to change in front of people/are wearing a tight shirt, getting something that looks like a tank top is your best bet.  Gc2b binders are available in a range of colours, while underworks offers black, white and beige binders. I decided to get a binder that matched my skin colour since I could only afford one and I didn’t want it to show through any clothing. I HIGHLY regret it. Cis men do not wear skin coloured garments under their shirts. If your collar slips up in the slightest, there’s an obvious sign that you’re trans. Cis men DO wear undershirts though, so get a binder that’s the same colour as an undershirt (usually white but black works too).  Some trans men use kt tape to bind, and transtape is a product made specifically to improve upon kt tape binding. Mind you, putting tape on your skin is very fucking bad for it and you will likely get blisters, as well as risk losing skin elasticity (something that’s important to retain if you want top surgery). Only do this as a last resort if you’re in a situation where regular binders are even more unsafe or would out you, such as while traveling. Look up how to apply it properly first and remove it VERY carefully.  Hair: If you want long hair that’s your choice, and some trans men do pass with long hair. But keep in mind even square-jawed cis men will get misgendered from the back if they have long hair. If you’re not okay with regularly getting she’d, keep it short until you’re on t for a while. 

If you have yet to get your hair cut short, a barber may refuse to cut you. Some of them really do only work with men/boys and if you don’t pass, you’ll be turned away. Just go to a unisex salon, if you don’t want to out yourself then find a picture of a woman with a masculine haircut. Show them that, then get them to make it even more masculine (ask for your sideburns or “the bits on the side” squared, it makes a world of difference). You’ll be able to go to a barber for your next haircut after that.  Resist the urge to get a buzzcut. It’s very low maintenance but it makes your face shape extremely apparent, you will look feminine.  Get your hair as short as you can stand on the sides and leave some length on top. If you get the sides really short, you should only have to brave your social anxiety every two months orso to get a new cut. Style the top upwards with some product (wax, gel, whatever). Your face will look less round if you do this.  To avoid talking to your barber and possibly outing yourself, just find a picture of the haircut you want and show it to them. I’ve found barbers are far less chatty than people at unisex salons so you’ll probably be okay just not speaking.  Wash your hair as little as possible. Don’t let it get greasy, but allow it to build up some texture. Cis men’s hair is a lot rougher and less silky than cis women’s, so you want to mimic that. Throw your conditioner in the trash.  For body hair, leave it alone as much as possible. Don’t touch your eyebrows, either. Let them get bushy, don’t pluck any stray hairs. You can fill in your eyebrows to make them look thicker but I’d recommend against using makeup in any form as a trans man, it’s hard to make it look subtle and people will instantly think you’re a woman if they notice you’re wearing it.  You can shave your face if you want to, but it’s honestly a waste of time. Your skin will look softer without the peach fuzz, which is the opposite of what you want to achieve. Hair doesn’t grow back thicker after you shave it, so don’t bother doing it for that reason. Body composition: Dysphoria TW for mention of biological sex.  A lot of guides make a major point of this. Work out 5 days a week, eat as little as possible, get your body fat percentage down. One of the most popular guides there is for FTMs even suggests you get down below 20% body fat, acknowledging that that’d be an unacceptable advice for cis women but going on to say it’s okay because we aren’t cis women.  My advice on this is to do your best to shut THAT advice out. Our bodies are (unfortunately) female, they play by female rules. The notion that we can (and should!) starve and exercise our way into a male body is harmful and wrong. Having a female looking body isn’t a personal failure or a sign that you’re not working hard enough, it’s an unavoidable consequence of BEING physically female.  Building muscle helps. Lower bodyfat helps. If you’re overweight and can manage to go on a diet, go for it. If you can start working out, go for it! Just don’t sweat it if you can’t for whatever reason. I promise it’s still possible to pass.  Mannerisms

Sit with your legs open. Manspread a little. You want to be sitting in a way that would get old ladies tutting if a lady in a dress did it, but don’t go so far that you’re doing the splits.  If you want to cross your legs, do it with your ankle on your leg. Crossing your legs too tightly will crush the dick you want people to think you have.  Walk with your legs slightly apart, and try not to sway your hips. Visualise having something between your legs that you’re trying not to crush (because cis men do).  Put your hands in your pockets as much as possible. Standing with your hands in your pockets basically draws a straight line down your body, minimising the appearance of your hips. It also makes you look like a bored teenager so it’s perfect.  Don’t smile too much, especially not in pictures. If you do smile, smirk. Try to look cocky.  Cis men have stronger brow bones and eyebrows closer to their eyes. You can mimic this by frowning mildly.  There are tons of voice training techniques you can look up to get your voice to go deeper, but to be honest it’s a lot of effort. You need to actually put force behind your voice to get it to come from your chest, and god knows I’m too depressed to do that 90% of the time. I’m fond of the “never fucking speak to anyone” technique and it works out just fine.  Confidence is absolutely the most important part. If you’re showing that you’re sure of yourself and act like you being a man is the most natural, obvious thing ever, people are unlikely to doubt you. If they do doubt you, just laugh it off. Act like the notion of you being anything but male is ridiculous. I don’t even do all the things in this guide. I’m very short with wide hips and a very high pitched voice, but confidence is what consistently gets me to pass. If you’re not confident, fake it till you make it.  Feel free to add!