#even when they're just jokes because after they get repeated enough they stop sounding like ones

[kneworder]

angry at the oscars barbie nominations but in an annoyinger way (i think nominating ryan reynolds makes sense but the best picture and best supporting actress noms are ridiculous)

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Language Barriers

Based off the idea that Yuu doesn't speak the same language or have the same culture norms in their world!! Got inspired for once

Content Info: GN!, 4.6K words-ish, Fluff/Comedy, Platonic except in Kalim's, Aztec refs in Leonas, NSFW jokes in Heartslabyul, Staff being parents, Trey bullying

Characters: Mozus Trein, Divus Crewel, Dire Crowley, Ashton Vargas, Sam, Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Grim, Leona Kingscholar, Kalim al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit

***

***

Since your arrival in Twisted Wonderland, you have begun to grasp the language and culture of this world. For the most part, at least.

You remember as clear as day when you first arrived, the pure confusion of the Headmage and those around you. Words from your lips were pure gibberish to them. They stared at you like you were an anomaly— and they were right. You are one.

‘Glitchy’ is the term they have used to describe your voice. “It is as though the sound around you warps everytime you speak.” The Headmage— Crowley— said.

The man had given you a necklace alongside an old dorm he housed you in. It was a simple looking necklace. A small mirror charm dangles in the center of it. Subtle enough to not draw attention to it.

It wasn't just a necklace however. It was a translator, a universal one.

The ‘glitches’ from your mouth had stopped and became the strange sounds the natives here spoke. Still, the necklace is just a buffer. Just because you can understand them doesn't mean you know what they're saying.

You still do not know the slang, the culture, the phrases, the grammar. Words still slipped your mind. You swear all you can hear is gibberish at times– and honestly you don’t doubt it occasionally is when students want to mess with you. You still had a lot to learn and there have been many miscommunications along the way. All part of the journey you suppose.

The staff here weren't coddling at all but they were accommodating. They made it clear that they favored no student more than the other. (At least that's what they claim.) But they also understood that holding you to the same standard would be unfair.

Mozus Trein

Professor Mozus Trein was a blessing when it came to learning about this world. His history classes made understanding this place easier. Trein would even give you extra context with his lessons to help you understand the everyday things and universal knowledge that you are unaware of.

His standards for your essays were different. He was no less strict on you but he was reasonable. He could tell that you truly understood the concept and put effort into your papers despite the language barrier and he is not going to punish you for learning.

You would get your paper back with a high grade and a page of corrections with explanations for each one. Why this comma here wrong. Why this was the wrong conjugation of that word. How this sentence could be improved.

“Excuse me, Professor?” You test the words as you speak them, accent slipping out. Trein looks to you from his desk. "Yes?”

“This word here is marked as wrong, but I remember you saying ‘I before E except after C.’” You tilt the paper to him and the older man adjusts himself on seat.

“Let me see here…” Trein paused to read the paper, expert eyes scanning for any potential mistakes. “Ah I see, that word there is an exception. ‘Sovereign’ doesn't follow that rule.” He closed his eyes as he explained and you nodded in understanding.

“I see, so I just have to memorize it. Are there any other words like that?” You didn't like how Trein seemed to frown as he thought about it. He hadn't realized how many there were. “Yes there are. A lot more than I anticipated I’m afraid,” a sigh escapes his lips and he shakes his head.

“I will not hold this against your grade since you have been improving with each assignment. Little mistakes like this will be forgiven so long as they are not repeated. Allow me to adjust your grade accordingly.”

You tilted your head as your B+ went to an A-. A small smile decorates your features. Trein nods to you and hands you your paper back. “There you are then. On to you next class.” You turn to leave but are stopped by when he speaks again.

“You should be proud of yourself, Yuu. You are the hardest working student I've have ever had the pleasure of teaching.” You perked up and your smile grew as you were onto your next class.

Divus Crewel

Professor Divus Crewel’s classes were difficult for completely different reasons. Math and numbers were the same for the most part aside from some minor symbol changes. Word problems were the bane of your existence however. Thankfully Divus can see that you understand the math. He'll often pass you or only take half a point off if you use the wrong equation or misunderstand the question and such.

He also gave you a small private lesson about alchemy as well. Teaching you the basic terms and proper protocols that most students would have learned early in their education. He'd show how to differentiate the effects an ingredient would have by the prefixes of their names or symbols on the vial.

But most importantly he would help you socially. What you should dress like for certain events. The correct way to speak so you could sound like a native. Social cues.

And he would refuse to admit it but you were his prized pup over the rest. He may or may not have slipped you a few perfumes or clothing under the guise of “Crowley not providing enough” or “Taking stress off of you to do better in class.” You knew better though.

After all, how could he play off giving a coat similar to his? It was less flashy and more suited to your tastes. It wasn't obvious to anyone else that you matched him unless they really observed. Perfect to wear in his class.

He's always looking out for you. Making sure you are safe and secure. And should you get injured from another adventure, he is there with a potion in hand.

Dire Crowley

Crowley was the one that gave you the necklace and a place to stay. Though eccentric and a bit well… lazy, you couldn’t deny that this was a good display of his generosity. Even if he does make you work for it.

Crowley was a strange one. He'd gift you some magical object one day and then forget you exist the next. He’d help you with your paperwork for accommodations and then forget to approve of them.

One time he dropped off a stack of paperwork on you to do for him but still left you a huge comprehensive guide that teaches you how to do each one. On top of that there was even a translation card meant to help you. If he put this much effort into these papers he'd be done by now. You assume he made this so he can drop more on you in the future. You swear he mentioned he's doing this to you to ‘prepare you for when you become the new headmage— er headmaster.’ Yeah right.

He'd give you dangerous tasks then become overprotective if any boy dare get too close to you. He'd help with anything but only if you stroke his ego. Yet despite it all he was still, as much as you hated to admit it, generous.

Despite everything, he has taken you in instead of abandoning you in this world. You swear sometimes he acts like a dad to you… When its convenient.

He's so annoying but you can’t find it in your heart to truly hate him. He may get you in trouble, but the moment it becomes too dangerous he steps in without hesitation to protect you and gives you a huge lecture after.

You hope you learn enough of the language to properly scold him.

Ashton Vargas

“Is this really necessary?” You ask the coach in front who re-wraps your hands tightly. “Absolutely it is!” The Coach's booming voice resonates in you as he pats you on your back rather roughly. “Give me another punch.”

You swallow and raise your hands again. You hesitate. “Come on kid you aren't gonna leave a dent in me!” You swallow and swing at his stomach. Vargas was right, he doesn't even flinch as your arm practically vibrates.

“That was a good form! I almost felt it.” A great guffaw rumbles in his chest. “Again!” Another punch, he looks down approvingly.

“Not bad, not bad at all. I sense a lot of potential in you, kid. That's enough for today.” You breathe a sigh of relief as you wipe your brow and unwrap your hands.

“Seems my training regiment is working, you're getting stronger by the day. Still— this on its own isn't enough. You need protein, kid! Lots of it. And you know what a good source of protein is?”

You stare at him for a moment. “Those uh…” the word slips your mind. “Chicken… capsules…?”

“Bingo! But they're called Eggs here Yuu.” Ashton puts a hand on his hip and makes a fist. “You should start with a dozen eggs per day and increase from there. I know that headmage can't be relied on to pay you in time, so I personally will deliver some bulking meals myself!”

“... Why are you doing this for me?” Your voice comes out a bit quiet as you speak. Ashton looks at you for a minute. “Why? Because you’re my student and I want to see you succeed. You got some serious strength hidden in you, and it would br a shame to see it wasted. Besides…”

As he speaks he starts taking down those punchy things, sandbags, you think. “The students here are quite rowdy. I want you to be able to defend yourself, especially since you don't have magic. You have to rely on brawn, Yuu! And I will be the one to awaken it.”

Vargas strikes a pose for a moment before relaxing. “Before you go I need to teach you some vocabulary.”

“Vocabulary…?”

“About your muscles of course!” The coach sat you down for a moment as he went into kinesiology. Micros and macros. Bulking. He broke it all down for you while flexing his muscles to emphasize his points.

“Now off you go Yuu, meet me here same time tomorrow, got it?”

Sam

Sam is a cool dude. You interact with him a lot. He never had an issue when you were first learning to speak. In fact he'd help you find the products you described to him. Of course he'd try and convince you to buy the more premium products but that's just business.

He'd even offer you a gig or two. His shelves don't stock themselves and his shadow friends wouldn't mind some extra help. Just know they can be a bit mischievous. While you were working you'd even get a small employee discount.

Even though your language has gotten better, there is still the occasional mix up.

“Ah, prefect! What can I do for you?” Sam queried while leaning on the counter top, delighted to see one of his favorite customers. “I am looking for… um…” You froze. What was that word again??

“The… white liquid?” You watched as Sam racked his brain for what you meant. “An invisibility potion?”

“No no! It's like… a juice?”

“Ah! I got it! Coconut milk!” The man snapped his fingers and winked. He frowned a bit when you shook your head.

“Wait here.” The shadow man watched as you ventured into the small smack aisle in front of him. Soon you took a bag of beef jerky and pointed to the small symbol on it. “What is this animal called again?”

“That's a cow.”

“Yes! I need the juice from it! The cow juice! What is its name? I forgot.” you perked up and beamed at him, hoping he understood. It all clicked for Sam, and he let out a hearty laugh at the realization.

“Do you mean milk, perchance?”

“Yes! I knew it had that sound! I need milk!” Sam chuckled again and waves his hand, sending a small shadow to retrieve some. “By the way would you be down to do some work tonight?”

“Tonight? Yeah, I can always use some extra cash.” The prefect was always so easy going. Guess they had to be in a place like this.

“Good. I'll apply your discount right now then!”

Heartslabyul

Your favorite Heartslabyul members have invited you to join them. Another Unbirthday party was to be hosted and the stars aligned today for the whole deck to help with the baking. It felt nice to be with them. They were like a family in a way, being with them felt like home. Alongside baking, there was some cooking being done too.

“Geez you really do like your eggs, huh?” Cater asked the spade who stirred his chopsticks with precision. He is determined to make the perfect tornado omelet.

“Oh you have no idea.” Ace tsked. “Whenever we go out to a restaurant it's the only thing he orders.”

“Not true!” Deuce's interjection wasn't as strong as it usually is, much to focused on his creation. “Yeah only if they dont offer any.” Ace retorts.

“Grim, it is unsanitary to touch the batter,” Riddle breaks up the impending argument to chide the direbeast ���helping’ him stir, “Trey how many egg yolks do I add?”

“Three. You sure got it Riddle?” Riddle pouts a bit. He knows he got a shell in the batter last time but he's trying! “I'll get it right this time, you can count on it.”

“Ooh, give the egg whites to Deuce if you aren't using them!” Deuce mutters a thank you to Cater as he finishes up his omelet. “Does anyone else want one?”

No’s resound across the kitchen aside from you and Grim which makes Deuce smile. “Alright, what kind do you want Yuu? I'm still unsure on what kind you prefer.” Deuce looks a little embarrassed at not knowing despite how long you've been friends.

Before anyone could tease Deuce, Trey asks the worst question he possibly could without knowing. “Actually how do you like your eggs in the morning, Yuu? I rarely see you eat breakfast in the cafeteria.”

You pause for a moment, the pan you were greasing slipping slightly. Then you chuckled. “That's very bold of you Trey, I never expected you of all people to say that… But judging by everyone else's reaction, I assume it doesn't mean anything here?”

“Oh? Does it mean something different where you from?” Riddle asks, looking over at you. “It does actually.” Cater looks up from his phone he was reading the recipe from, noticing your amused expression. “What else could possibly it mean though?” You hold in a laugh. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to bring it up but you can't help it.

“Is that so? I sure hope I didn't say anything offensive. What does it mean?” Poor Trey; he chuckles as he decorates one of the finished cakes not knowing the storm that's brewing.

“You essentially just propositioned me in front of everyone.” The whole kitchen is silent as they stare at you. Trey looks flustered and confused out of his mind as an abundance of frosting squirts out of the bag. “I… pardon?”

Ace speaks first “Huh?! How does that make sense?”

“Proposition? What does that mean?”

“Don't worry about it Grim.” says the diamond. “Still that seems far fetched, it's rude of you to mess with Trey like that you know!”

“I'm not lying! It's actually what it means!” Trey is adjusting his glasses now, embarrassment growing. Riddle looks horrified, trying to find his words. He's trying to rack his brain for a response before deciding to ask about it. His voice comes out a little hesitant and unsure. “Are eggs part of some sort of courtship in your world…?”

“Um… sort of..?” At your words Deuce pales. Ace takes this opportunity to be a little shit per usual. “Wow! Seems like you have a chance then, Deucy!”

“Oh shut it Ace! Wait, have I been propositioning you this whole time?!” His face is red and he's hiding in his hands. He has offered so many egg dishes over the years. Oh God he must have made you so uncomfortable— this isn't what an honor student would do!

“I still don't know what that means…” Grim grumbles.

“No no! Offering eggs is fine, it's just that particular phrase has very different connotations in my world.”

Ace is snickering at the whole situation, but especially at Deuce’s panic. He's also just as confused, however. Trey finally has the courage to speak. “Um, how exactly does that mean…” He trails off, defeated. “I'm sorry Yuu, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you too much…”

“Okay, but how exactly does that mean that?”

“Yeah I'm with Cater on this one…” Ace adds.

“Enlighten me.” Riddle puts his hands on his hips, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

“So… When someone asks that they essentially mean to say they're gonna invite you to spend the night with them and cook you breakfast in the morning.” Trey looks even more embarrassed but so does Riddle.

“So it's a sleepover? That's it?” Grim asks just to be waived off by Cater again who vibrating with laughter.

“That's a pretty convoluted way of asking…” Deuce looks to the side, also a little flustered. “Yeah it makes no sense for me either, and I'm from that world, but that is what it means…”

“Wow so Trey really is bold!” Cater snickers as Ace joins in with a “I never knew you had it in you.”

“Enough with this vulgar talk!” Riddle commands, clearly demanding the conversation to be over.

“I am never gonna live this down aren't I?”

Leona Kingscholar

I am gonna nerd a lil abt aztec mythology rn and I'm not apologizing

Herbivore is what he called you. It was meant to be an insult but you never took offense. There is no other creature that fights harder than prey that is fighting for their life or backed into a corner. If anything it was a compliment. You've seen how hard they can fight.

Yet today Leona took the title further. “You are honestly like a little rabbit. All this confidence and attitude, yet harmless.” You raised a brow at him. “Thank you.”

Leona's eyes shift ever so slightly. “You're taking it as a compliment?” You tilt your head. “I assume rabbit in this world is synonymous with fragility here…? Odd. They're a symbol of warriors back in my world.”

“Is that so?” Leona speaks boredly, but he doesn't excuse himself or tell you to shut up. “Yeah, rabbits are these mighty warriors that are completely invincible. Children of one of the 5 sin gods too. Nothing can kill them. Centzon Tōtōchtin are no joke. Odd how they're considered weak here.”

You think for a moment. “But they are known to be constantly drunk all the time and play around, so I guess that could be an insult…” Leona just rubs his head. “Take it however you want���”

Kalim al-Asim

“Look at all the stars!” Kalim exclaims, pointing up at the sky. He lands his carpet along the sand dunes, eyes full of wonder. He then looks to you with bated breath, waiting for your reaction.

“It's beautiful…” You whisper, overlooking the patterns of stars decorating the night sky. It was straight out of a painting, vast and whimsical. Kalim was glowing at your happiness. “Aaah, I'm glad you like it! I was hoping you would!”

You lean back against the ground. Shooting stars dart across the sky along the twinkling lights in a beautiful display. Your eyes land on the moon, admiring how different it was from your own.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn't it?” You freeze for a moment. “Haha, careful saying that to people from my world Kalim, not that you'll be running into anyone else from there anytime soon…”

Kalim looks over to you, brows slightly furrowed. “Eh? What do you mean?” You look back up the moon again. “Saying ‘the moon looks beautiful tonight’ where I’m from means I love you.” There's a moment of silence as Kalim ponders.

“Well then the moon looks beautiful tonight! I love all of my friends!” Kalim grins at you, fist pumped to his chest.

“It's not like that, Kalim. It's for romantic feelings. Funny, since coming here I've had a lot of experiences that would be considered flirtatious in my word…” You laugh a bit before a small frown appears on your features but Kalim snaps you out if it.

“So what you're saying is… it's a love confession?” His eyes are glimmering, the moon reflecting on them beautifully.

“You got it.”

“Then the moon looks beautiful tonight.”

Jamil Viper

So in TWST the languages aren't called the same thing in our world but I couldn't figure out the language of the Scalding Sands so I made one up. Can be a psuedo-prequel to my other fic Missing Yuu. It can be read here!

“Your Arabic is so similar yet so different than my world's version” Jamil pauses his mumbling and hums in question. “Arabic?”

“It's a language where I'm from. It sounds very similar to yours. Like I swear it could be some sort of dialect of it.”

“Scaldic, you mean?” You nod looking over at him from where you lay in his bed. “Is that what it's called? It's a pretty language.” Jamil messes with the stereo in his room, taking out an old CD and browsing for another he wanted to show you. “Maybe once you get more comfortable in this language, I can teach you a bit.”

“That would be lovely, thanks Jamil” As the sounds of shuffling continue from his search and you absentmindedly mess with your necklace before sitting up. “Wait! I know!”

Jamil perks and turns to you, watching as you start to take off your necklace. “Here put this on, you've shown me so much music from your world, let me show you some from mine!”

You offer the necklace over, shaking it a little for encouragement. Jamil takes it gently and examines the necklace. He lifts up his hair and slips it on, feeling a warmth on his chest from where the mirror lay.

You speak, and Jamil braces against the weird feeling of the necklace warping your glitched gibberish from your throat into his native language. “Can you hear me?” The words echoed in his head a bit. He took a moment to fully process them as they reverberated in his head.

He almost replies in his native tongue, but the amulet compels him to speak another language. Your language.“Yes, I can.” He replies, slurring a bit as he feels his words echo and warp. Strange… he knows what he's saying but he can't understand it.

“You have an accent, well that makes sense…” You chuckle a bit as he sits beside you, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. “I never thought about how the enchantments on these worked. I assumed that it would be instant. Is this what it's like for you?”

“Crowley said it would probably be different for me cause I'm not from this world. See why I ask you to repeat things all the time? … thanks for not getting too annoyed with that by the way.”

You tap away on your phone for a moment. “Here we go, I got some songs in Arabic for you, look.” Jamil watches you press play and takes in the music. It was ethereal, so different yet so similar to his worlds. Uncanny yet compelling. Then the lyrics start and he furrows his brows.

“It really is like Scaldic.” he replies, closing his eyes. “Its like if I focus hard enough I can hear it in my own language, but I cant.”

“See what I mean?” Jamil nods. “I think I'm picking up some words though, but there's no guarantee the meaning is the same.”

“Yeah it's how I feel all the time here… its frustrating at times. Oddly enough there are some words that stay the same, mostly food for example. Like mahalabia or horchata for example.”

“Huh, odd how that works…” the music coursing through his body invigorates him. He can imagine all the potential ways to move to this.

“Yeah. And it's the same dish too— well sort of. It tastes so similar yet so different. I miss my world's food, but I'm slowly forgetting the taste of it. Its just vauge memory.” Jamil peers over to the saddened expression on your face. He never even considered that part of being from another world.

“... How about we listen to your music while cooking, then? I'm sure we can make something that tastes like home.” Your face brightens. “That sounds nice.”

Vil Schoenheit

“Thank you for putting up with my accent, it must be annoying to deal with.” You sip on the tea he offered you, trying your best to abide by the manners in this world. Vil merely looked at you.

“It's not annoying at all. Your accent is fine just the way it is.” He almost seemed disappointed by the insinuation.

“Ah… Sorry I just saw that Epel’s usually not allowed to use his accent around you, so I assumed I shouldn't either.” Vil sighs.

“That's different. You have already proven yourself strong and beautiful enough to be who you are. Epel on the other hand needs to learn to accept himself for who he is first before he can truly be the person he wants to be. He must prove to me he can love himself as he is. If I hated accents, I wouldn't have let Rook speak in his."

“Ah I see… Thank you.” It wasn't everyday that you get praise from the Vil Schoenheit. “Your speech has improved, though I may point out there are some words you may need to work on. Your accent may make it sound like you are talking about something else entirely. Hmm…”

You hold your breath as he thinks. “I want you to grow into the best spudling you can be, so how about you take voice lessons from me?” Vil seems to smirk at your surprised expression. “From you..?”

Vil nods. “Yes. This way you can grow more confident in your speech and vocabulary. That voice of yours is beautiful, it just needs to be tuned.” You look at your tea then to him. “I accept.”

[rogueddie]

A gay bar is the last place Steve ever thought he'd be, yet here he sits.

He keeps looking over to Robin- not too much, just enough to keep an eye on her. Make sure she's still having fun. Although, he's sure he doesn't need to be worrying.

The girl who'd caught Robins eye is small, feminine. She looks like a sweetheart and she keeps getting Robin flustered. They're cute together, clearly into eachother, and Steve couldn't be happier.

Even sat alone, feeling completely out of place and a little uncomfortable, seeing Robin able to flirt with someone so openly is… he just feels relieved.

He should have thought to bring her here sooner.

"Hey there." The man smiles when Steve flinches. It's a soft smile, kind. "You wanna dance?"

"Oh, uh, I don't- I mean, uh-"

"Woah, don't panic. It's just a dance, right? You look uncomfortable is all and seeing you sat alone with your big fucking puppy dog eyes is just sad." He gently nudges Steves chin up when he tries to look down, feeling awkward. His finger lingers a little, brushing along his jaw. "You don't wanna have a fun night out? I won't be offended if you say no."

And, ok, Steve's a little tipsy. He's sure he'd never agree if he were sober- it wouldn't have felt fair. The guy is clearly attracted to him, not even trying to hide the way he's eyeing him.

But Steve's buzz is more annoying than pleasant and dancing does sound fun. So he agrees, accepts the hand offered and lets the guy pull him into the crowd.

The guy keeps his distance. Anytime the crowd jolts Steve toward him, he steps back the same amount, keeping a solid foot between them. But he's grinning, yelling jokes over the music, unabashedly dancing like an idiot.

It's great, it's fun. Steve can't stop grinning, stomach starting to ache with how much he's been laughing.

Eventually, a slower song comes on, stronger sexual undertones. The guy (Eddie, he'd leant in to tell Steve when asked, explaining that he knew Steve because they used to be in the same year as in Hawkins) shrugs, pulling an exaggerated face that screams 'what-can-you-do'. He's turning away.

But Steve grabs his wrist, Eddie looking back with raised eyebrows.

"This alright then, pretty boy?" He asks after stepping in close. His hands rest low on his hips.

Steve nods, flushing. He automatically puts his hands on his shoulders, letting Eddie lead him through a weirdly intimate sort of slow dance. And Steve is suprised to find himself… into it? He's not sure.

He feels less tipsy, so he can't blame the easy blushes or the way his stomach flips on the alcohol. There's no excuse for how he's started looking at Eddie either, paying a little too much attention to the way he moves, how his hands feel when they slowly start to wonder.

He gently brushes Eddies hair out the way without thinking, tucking it behind his ear so he can see the tattoo on his neck. Eddie tilts his head slightly, baring his neck a little more. When he glances up, Eddie is watching him, curiously.

"Hate to sound pressumptious," he drawls, taking a small step forward so their chests are pressed together, "but it feels like you're making moves on me, big boy."

"What if I am? What happens then?"

"Maybe I'd ask if you're sober enough to drive or if we need to call a cab." He leans back a little when Steve moves to kiss him. He hums, smirking. "Or maybe I'd ask for your number. I'm a classy lady, Harrington; what if I don't put out on the first date?"

"I've never said no to a challange."

Eddie barks out a laugh, loud enough to startle some of the people swaying beside them. "As if."

"What? You're like... pretty."

"Pretty," he repeats, rolling his eyes. "People know I'm a fag, Steve. Even being seen with me like we're 'just friends' would fucking ruin you."

"Your point?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wanna put money on that?"

Eddie eyes him for a second, his derision melting into curiosity. "You want to make a bet on whether you'll date me or not?"

"Why not? One of us wins money in a bet, we both score a date, and-"

"I thought you were straight."

"Yeah, me too. But I don't think straight guys think about you like I am, right now."

Eddie steps back, considering. It's a long, tense, moment before he finally sticks his hand out. Steve quickly shakes his hand, grinning.

"You've got yourself a deal."

[dravidssideblog]

"Do I really HAVE to reform them? This is such a pain." "It would be a lot easier if you had kept their soul together." "They're PREY, I don't bother holding onto my food's soul." "Okay, if you're going to live here, you seriously need a lesson on vore etiquette." "Etiquette? I'm a predator, I eat people, there's no etiquette for eating people." "There is here, and it's the reason why prey is so easy to catch. It's also the reason why there's no consequences, so unless you want this to be a repeat of what happened back at your home town, you're going to learn it." "Ugh, fine, whatever, I just gotta reform any prey I eat, right?" "Yes, absolutely, but there's more than just that. For one, you can't hurt prey while eating them, so next time watch it with the teeth and claws." "What?! That's ridiculous, how am I supposed to subdue my meal?" "You don't have to, because the prey can't hurt you either." "… Okay…" "Second, you can't keep prey for any longer than a week. Doesn't matter if you digest them or just keep them inside, after a week, you gotta reform them or let them go." "Eh, that's fine, I guess. Not much of a long-term guy anyhow." "You can't eat someone with a prey in their belly." "Wait a sec, that means that if I catch a prey, no one can eat me? That sounds pretty nice! Hanging out with other preds was always too risky before…" "If you eat a prey who's with a group, you have to offer to eat the rest of the group too." "Wait what? Offer? This one does make sense…" "Well, if a group of friends are hanging out together, it'd be rude to separate one from the rest. You can still eat them, of course, but if the others want to join their buddy in your belly, you have to eat them too." "If they… want to? That's common enough that there's an etiquette rule about it?" "Yeah. Reformation is guaranteed, remember? Makes prey a lot less opposed to getting eaten." "Huh… And to be clear, even if they don't want to, I can still eat the whole group anyway right?" "Right. Another thing, you can't break into someone's home to eat them. Well, you shouldn't break into people's homes in general, that's rude, but I felt like I should specify to you. Homes are a safe zone." "A safe zone, huh? Sounds annoying… What if they invite me in? That's not breaking in, right?" "Yeah, if you invite a pred into your house you're kinda accepting the risk of getting eaten. But if you're just relaxing in your house, you shouldn't have to worry about someone sneaking in to eat you." "… Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice. Okay, what else?" "Uh… Oh, some prey and preds here have committed relationships." "What, like, preys dating preds!?" "Kinda, except instead of dating its dinner." "Dinner dates." "Yeah. Anyway, you can't eat someone's committed prey without the pred's permission. The pred also can't eat other prey without their prey's permission, but I doubt that'll ever come up for you." "Couldn't a prey just lie and say 'oh yeah I totally have a predfriend, they're from another town, you wouldn't know them, but yeah I'm taken sorry!'" "How did you know they're called 'predfriends'?" "Wait that's actually what they're called? Dude I was joking!" "Well, anyway, a prey lying about that would also be a break of etiquette. If you really think they're lying, I guess you can call their bluff and eat them anyway, but don't be surprised when their pred comes to punch your lights out." "Yeesh, alright, fine. Hey, you mentioned before that prey aren't allowed to hurt preds trying to eat them? Are there any other rules like that?" "Yeah! You mentioned, like, lacing clothes with chemicals or something to stop preds from eating you by making you taste bad? That kinda stuff isn't allowed." "Niiice." "There's also rules about when it's acceptable for a prey to force themself down a pred's throat, but-" "There are prey that do that!? That's awesome!" "Yeah I figured you wouldn't mind that."

[nebulablakemurphy]

Through Love And By Love (Pt. 3)

Draco Malfoy x fem!OC

Summary: Twenty-Two years ago, Draco Malfoy used the imperius curse to slow Voldemort’s rise to power. No good deed goes unpunished. Warning: this series contains mature subject matter surrounding use of the imperius curse, reader discretion advised.

Part 1 | Part 2

Draco makes the proper modifications to the obliviate charm. It won't completely alter Rosanna's memories, it will only suppress the ones where he is present. When everything is sorted, he'll be able to give them back.

Seems simple enough, and once it's done, it's done. The imperius curse however is more difficult. When Draco casts it, he has to mean it. If he half asses the spell or lets his feelings get in the way, not only will it not work; but the effects it will have on Rosanna's mind...he wants to avoid at all costs.

The duration of the curse is also up in the air, could be weeks, could be months, could be years. All the while he'll be commanding this shell of the girl he loves.

'I control you.' Draco repeats the mantra in his head, every night before bed, willing himself to mean it.

When the time finally comes, he's standing in front of Rosanna as she's sound asleep, with his wand drawn. 'She doesn't remember', Draco tells himself. 'This isn't your Rosanna, it only looks like her. You can do this, you have to.' "Imperio." Draco says, with conviction.

Nothing happens, because he hasn't given a direction. 'Wake up', he wills her. And so she does.

It takes him a few tries to get into a routine, he doesn't have to think each specific step. She still has a brain after all. He only has to think of the desired out come. For example, 'get dressed and follow me', is one simple order instead of several smaller ones.

————————————————————————

After a few weeks of having her at Malfoy manner Draco begins experimenting with more complex demands such as, 'tell me what you think.' Or, 'act like you care for me.'

For a time he can almost forget that it's all a lie. Draco sees her in the room of requirement, how she was, how she loved him. If he ignores the small discrepancies, it’s bearable.

Malfoy manor is under lock and key, however that doesn’t stop an owl from arriving, carrying a parcel with the last will and testament of Albus Dumbledore. Along with Ron, Harry and Hermione; Rosanna is a beneficiary.

‘To Rosanna Marie McVay, I leave my mirror. May you always remember who you are.’

A long ragged shard of an old broken mirror. Draco wants to get rid of it, because even the words seem to taunt, like a cruel joke. But perhaps it means something to her that he cannot comprehend. And so he files it away in his chest of drawers for safe keeping.

It takes about three months before Narcissa runs her wand over Rosanna; and finally it glows. She's expecting.

"Well done, Draco." Lucius says, putting a hand on his shoulder. He’s out of Azkaban, still he isn’t the same man he was before going in.

Draco shrugs him off, they haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other since his return.

"You should let the dark lord know, tonight." Narcissa tells her son gingerly, "he'll be pleased."

"Shouldn't we wait a while? Just to be sure." Draco is still in denial, everything's happened too fast.

"Don't be ridiculous." Lucius insists. Voldemort has been breathing down their necks for weeks.

"What about Rosanna's parents?" Draco asks. "Surely Archer and Dixie deserve to know they're expecting a grandchild."

"Draco...you must understand, we could hardly have them looking for her." Narcissa cuts in.

"What've you done to them?" He spits, angrily.

"Relax Draco, 'twas a simple memory spell. They're on holiday." Lucius informs him.

"Where?" Draco's jaw ticks.

"Just off the coast of France, it's a lovely villa. All expenses paid." His mother brushes a spec of lint from his shoulder.

"If you ever do anything to hurt her or her family-"

"Draco, darling," Narcissa stops him. "We're on the same side. We are protecting Rosanna, we are protecting her parents."

"Could've fooled me." Draco disagrees.

"Mind yourself." Lucius snaps.

"Did it ever occur to you, that perhaps forcing us to have a child was not, in fact, in our best interest? That it might, instead, be detrimental to Rosanna, who hasn't had a proper chance to finish her education? Or the fact that she is brilliant and deserves every opportunity in this world? Do you ever consider the fact you took all that away from her?" Draco is gutted, he's afraid, he is alone.

"No one’s taken a thing from her. We've given her a wealth of opportunity. Is the situation ideal? Of course not. But son, you must know, when this is over; after serving the dark lord, she can have the best tutors. If she wants to continue her studies, she will do just that. Any avenue that Rosanna wishes to venture will be readily available to her. As for you, you will want for nothing Draco. Just as you always have. You can marry, live a long and happy life here in the manor." Lucius doesn't understand, it should be an honor to both of them to restore the Malfoy name to grace.

"What about the baby?" Draco runs a hand through his hair.

"He will have the world as his finger tips, darling." Narcissa coos. "A strong Malfoy boy, a son. You will raise him right, just like you were raised. "

"So you're no longer concerned with her lack of pure blood?" The boy scoffs.

“Draco, you are my son. I care for you a great deal, I want the best for you; always. All will be right once this baby is born. Open your eyes, see it." Lucius says, in closing.

Draco can't see it, but he does see Rosanna's belly grow over the next five months. 'Be happy,' is his only requirement of her.

She has a proper bump now. After she's gone to sleep, Draco keeps his hand on her stomach. Finally feeling his son stir beneath his fingers.

He attempts to choke down the lump in his throat, but he can't. Tears slipping onto his pillow as his shoulders heave with sobs. He can't do this alone.

Rosanna gasps, springing up into a sitting position. The pleasant, floating, out of body feeling she's become accustomed to is gone. Leaving behind a terrible migraine in it's wake. "Fuck." She complains, clutching her head between her hands.

"Lie down, love." Draco tells her, without much thought.

"No, my head-" Rosanna argues, "something's wrong."

He can tell, she's not listening to him anymore.

An imperius curse can be broken, but only through extreme force of will. Few people have ever done so.

"Please, do something." Rosanna reaches for him with trembling hands. She can't recall more than a passing glance shared between them at Hogwarts, but she can remember the passed months with him here. How kind he was, patient, gentle; the way one might treat a very dear friend.

"Let me look at you." Draco insists, holding his hands on either side of her face. "You're bleeding, Ro."

Blood trickles from her left nostril. Upon truly seeing him, something within her scream. There's something right there, just beneath the surface that she can't seem to grasp, but she wants to. The harder she reaches for it, the harder her head throbs in protest.

Draco knows what he has to do, the bleeding is getting worse. Her mind has been tampered with for too long, these kind of spells aren't meant to last forever. He has to give her memories back.

When he does, the blood from her nose slows significantly. Dashing to the bathroom he retrieves a hand towel, holding it beneath her nose. Massaging her temples as she keeps the towel in place.

"Rosanna," Draco says, after a long moment.

"Are you ok?" She asks.

"Me? I should be asking you." He chuckles, he doesn't know if the spell worked. He doesn't know if she remembers, or if things were lost in translation.

"I heard you crying," she explains. "I knew I had to get up. I couldn't at first, but I just kept telling myself, you have to wake up Ro, you have to wake up.”

"An imperius curse is nearly impossible to break." Draco remarks, brushing wayward hairs from Rosanna's face. "I should have known, nearly impossible is no object for you."

"Of course not." Rosanna shrugs, teasingly.

Draco knows she's never thought of herself as anything special, clearly she is; she always has been.

"You should try to rest." He encourages.

"Yeah," She agrees, moving to lie down in the bed they've shared for months. However, this being the first time it's truly them.

They face each other on top of the dark satin sheets, their hands clasped between them. Content to simply stare into the others eyes for the rest of eternity.

"Did you miss me?" Rosanna whispers, after a long while.

"Every second." Draco confesses, in the same hushed tone.

————————————————————————-

The next few weeks are spent finding their new normal. Another adjustment, from the kids at Hogwarts, to the imperiused puppet and master, to now pregnant Rosanna and overprotective Draco.

Narcissa and Lucius can see that something is different about her, in comparison to the girl who'd arrived there all those months ago. Writing it off to hormones and never pressing the issue.

The news that Voldemort has finally requested Rosanna attend a death eater’s meeting doesn't come as a surprise to any of them. It has only ever been a question of when.

Narcissa offers to get Ro up to snuff. Draco is wary of leaving them alone together, but Rosanna assures him that she's fine. So eventually he leaves to ready himself for the evening.

"You're a beautiful girl." Narcissa remarks, running her brush through Rosanna's long strawberry blonde hair.

She sits in front of Narcissa's lavish vanity, staring blankly into the mirror as the older woman stands behind her. Rosanna doesn't look like herself, painted in dark makeup and zipped into a perfectly tapered midnight blue silken dress.

"A perfect match for my Draco." She goes on. "Any thoughts on a name for the baby?”

"Not yet." Rosanna forces a smile.

"Draco is named after a constellation; just something to think about." Narcissa knows full well that right now, she's the closest thing the girl has to a mother.

"I don't really know anything about having a baby." Rosanna thought she'd have more time to learn, when she was older, when she was ready.

"It's perfectly normal to be nervous. After all, being a mother is the most important undertaking a woman has. All Draco's life I have spoiled him, but there are things money can not buy. Namely love; your love." Narcissa moves her hair lightly into place.

Rosanna twists her hands in her lap, "Draco keeps telling me I'll be a good mother, but how does he know? I'm going to disappoint him if I don't know what to do the second that sucker is slapped into my arms."

"You'll have help," Narcissa assures her, "a nanny if you'd like."

"No, I don't want a nanny." Rosanna shakes her head.

"Draco-" Narcissa greets when she spots him.

Rosanna turns to him, blonde hair styled into an elegant updo. Makeup done to perfection, a deep red gloss that makes her full lips look truly sinful.

"Give us a moment, mother." Draco stammers at the sight of her.

Narcissa gives a tight lipped grin as she leaves the room.

Ro runs her hands over her dress as she stands.

Draco approaches her, his face a mask of indifference. And for a second, Rosanna actually wonders if he's mad. "I would not change one cell in your body, nor hair on your head. You are easily the best thing that's ever happened to me. You could never disappoint me, I need you to know that. If you're having trouble with something, never hesitate to come to me."

"You gotta stop ease-dropping." Rosanna chastises, draping her arms around him, stroking lovingly at the soft hair on the nape of his neck.

"About tonight," he changes the subject. "We're meant to be guests of honor. You know who sits head of the table, we will sit immediately to his right. Traditionally, I would be seated aside of him, because I'm the male."

"Damn it." Rosanna shakes her head. "He's sexist too?"

Draco chortles, "As I was saying, you'll be next to him. Be calm, steady; I'll be right there with you. Across the table is a seat reserved for Snape, if he shows up. He shouldn’t try to talk to you, none of them will. If they do, keep it short and simple. You're honored to be there. I know you're a decent liar, you can pull this off."

"So what happens at these meetings?" Ro asks, nervously.

"Not much, we cover any news about Potter. While we're on the subject, it's imperative to remember, the dark lord knows you and Harry were friends. When he accessed Potter's mind and memories, you were there. Don't lie about it if he asks." Draco smooths a hand along her back.

"Ok." She nods.

"He'll give assignments, if need be and tie up any loose ends. It's all straight forward really." He puts her mind at ease.

The moment they enter the dining room, everything Draco had promised is out the window; because there's a woman, suspended midair near the archway. They recognize her as one of the professors from Hogwarts. Muggle studies wasn't a class either of them had taken, they don’t really know Ms. Charity Burbage, but they'd seen each other plenty in passing.

"Breathe," Draco whispers, "just keep breathing." His hand is at the small of her back, guiding her toward their seats.

Voldemort's mouth twists into a demented grin. "Well, if it isn't the young Mr. Malfoy and his beloved Rosanna. What a pleasure it is, to finally meet you." He purrs. "Come, join me." Voldemort motions to the seats aside of him.

"Thank you for having me," Rosanna smiles as Draco pulls out the chair for her, waiting until she sits before pushing her in.

"Of course, dear one." He eyes her belly. "As I'm sure you all know, a congratulations is in order for our friends. They are to have a son, bringing them one step closer to fulfilling their destiny."

All eyes at the table are fixed on them. Rosanna isn't sure if they're meant to speak or not. So she simply nods, crossing her legs beneath the table. Draco's left hand stretches over, searching for hers. She twines their fingers together, resting their hands in her lap.

Severus arrives a few moments after the meeting has officially started. Joining them at the table, giving Draco and Rosanna a once over as he takes his seat.

He sees them third year, in detention for fraternizing after hours. He sees them fourth year, dancing the night away at the ball. He sees them fifth year, tested and divided by circumstance. He sees them sixth year, leaving together the night he'd killed Albus.

He sees their then faces, he sees their now faces; still just children, but stripped of their innocence.

When Rosanna is excused, she rushes up the stairs to their bedroom.

Draco stays with his parents to see the others out. "She's not been feeling well, terrible morning sickness." He explains, "I better go check on her." Draco closes the door behind last of the death eaters before venturing up the staircase.

He finds her, dry heaving over the sink, mascara stained teardrops falling against the porcelain. Draco knows what a panic attack looks like, from personal experience.

"Alright sweetheart, you're alright." He wets a rag with cool water from the tap, lying it on the over heated skin at the back of her neck.

"I can't breathe," Rosanna sobs, fingers twisting against the edge of the sink basin. She needs to be sick, she needs to breath, she needs to lie down, she needs to scream.

"Try, try for me." Draco murmurs, his lips at her temple. "Take a deep breath in."

She does try, but suddenly her dress is too tight, suffocating her. "Get it off, get it off me." Rosanna chokes out, clawing at the zipper behind her, but her fingers won't cooperate.

Draco moves her trembling hands aside, using his own to ease the zipper down her back. The material pooling at her feet, but it doesn't help.

All she can think about is the woman from the parlor, dropping lifeless onto the dinner table and served as a meal to Nagini.

"I'm so sorry, Ro. You have to believe me, I had no idea that was going to happen. You were never supposed to see that. It was to be a normal meeting, just as I said. I didn't know." Draco apologizes fiercely, pressing desperate kisses to her shaking shoulders.

Her breaths come in short gasps, resting her head against the cool surface of the mirror. "It's not your fault." Rosanna shakes her head. The child in her womb stirs wildly, seemingly sensing her distress. She places a hand over her belly protectively.

Draco wraps both arms around her, grounding her. One hand resting over her heart, to dull the ache that's taken root there. The other on top of hers, calming their baby. "You are strong, you are safe, and you are so loved."

Rosanna isn't sure if he's talking to her or their child, either way, it's enough to bring her back to herself. She catches her breath, standing up straight and turning to face Draco.

His features still laced with worry. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm sorry. That's never happened before." Rosanna can't meet his eyes.

"There's nothing to apologize for." He tips her chin up to catch her gaze. "They aren't as awful once you're used to them. I'd like to tell you that they suck less too, but that'd be a lie; they always suck."

Rosanna smirks at him, "since when does Draco Malfoy say something sucks?"

"I've been hanging around this girl for sometime. She's an awful influence, you see, she's got quite a dodgy vocabulary." Draco teases. "I've tried to keep away, only problem is, I'm terribly in love with her and it never seems to work."

"I love you so much." Ro laughs, peppering his face with kisses. Effectively covering him in cherry red lip stick. "You look ridiculous," she tells him as they break apart.

"Yeah?" He turns her back toward the mirror.

Her hair is a bird's nest and her cheeks a mess of black streaks. "Before you take the mickey out of me, let's get that rubbish off your face."

"Screw you." She takes the cloth from her neck, rewetting it with soap; properly removing what's left of her makeup.

"What about me?" Draco protests, "you've done this." He motions to his crimson stained face.

"Don't you like my work?" Rosanna feigns hurt, softly swiping the marks off his face.

"I love your work, darling, however I'm afraid red's not my color." He smiles, it’s been so long that the feeling is foreign to the muscles in his face.

————————————————————————-

When the golden trio is dragged in, by snatchers, to Malfoy Manor, they look slightly worse for wear. Especially Harry, who is nearly unrecognizable under the swelling of his features from Hermione’s stinging jinx. A last ditch effort to conceal his identity.

When Draco cannot positively identify the boy as Harry Potter, Bellatrix utters one sickening command. “Bring me Rosanna.”

Draco nods, taking the stairs up to his bedroom. The door creaks open and Rosanna turns to him.

“What’s wrong?” She closes the book she’s been reading.

“I need you.” He chokes out. “I need you to come with me and I…Rosanna, I’m so sorry.”

Rosanna swallows hard, moving to her feet and smoothing out the front of her dress. The one with light purple daisies scattered about the material.

Draco and Rosanna know full well what will happen if they are caught lying. Still they do it anyway.

Legillimacy comes easy to her, the way occlumency does Draco. They’ve been working to teach each other, no time like the present to put those skills to the test.

“Come, Rosanna.” Bellatrix insists, giggling erratically as she does. “Right here.”

Rosanna crosses the room, joining Bellatrix near where Harry is kneeling. She is about six months along and her belly comes as a shock to her former friends.

“Good girl, come come.” Bellatrix pulls her in. Attempting to peer deep into Rosanna’s mind. “Take a good look for us.” She points down to the man in question. “Is it him? Is it Harry?”

Rosanna floods her thoughts with images of Harry from their childhood. Distracting Bellatrix, hiding what she knows to be true. This is Harry.

Bellatrix huffs out a breath, “you really don’t know, do you?”

Rosanna shakes her head, “I’m sorry. It’s too hard to tell with his face that way.”

“That’s alright, precious.” Bellatrix puts a hand to Rosanna’s belly. “You’ve done your part. Now run along, there’s work to be done.”

Rosanna nods, moving towards the stairs on shaky legs.

“Put the boys in the cellar,” Bellatrix barks her next command at Lucius and Draco, grabbing Hermione by the collar. “Me and this one need to have a little chat, girl to girl.”

The sound of Hermione's tortured cries haunt Rosanna's nightmares for years to come. But she knows the best, and only course of action is to return to her room and come up with a plan.

Tearing through the dresser, in search of her wand, she slices her finger on a shard of…glass? Even through the parchment wrapped haphazardly around it.

‘To Rosanna Marie McVay, I leave my mirror. May you always remember who you are.’

Rosanna tosses Dumbledore’s will aside, staring down at the reflection in her hand. Somehow the image staring back is not her own.

“Hello?” She whispers. The eye looking back at her could almost be her former headmaster’s. But that’s impossible. “Can you help me? My friends are being held captive in Malfoy manor-”

There is a pop from behind her, Rosanna squeals at the unexpected appearance of a house elf. Not one of the Malfoy’s, not anymore.

Dobby had been freed the year before Rosanna transferred to Hogwarts. He isn’t thrilled by the prospect of returning to Malfoy Manor, his old masters were very cruel, and Dobby is a free elf. But, “Dobby is here to help Harry Potter and his friends.”

“Harry is a good friend of mine. I need your help to get him out of here.”

“What about you, miss?”

“It’s a long story, but I can’t leave, not yet. Harry and Ron are in the cellar, I can show you how to get there.”

“Dobby knows his way to the cellar.” The elf lowers his voice.

"Thank you, Dobby." Rosanna leans down to kiss his cheek. "Tell Harry, Rosanna sent you. Tell him I'm sorry, for everything."

"I'll tell them, Ms. Rosanna." Dobby agrees, any friend of Harry's is a friend of his.

The elf disapparates into the cellar. Rosanna grabs her wand and sets off to find Draco. Harry and Ron are now free, having fought their way back up to the main floor with Dobby’s help.

Rosanna finds herself on the opposite end of Hermione’s wand. They stare at each other for a beat too long.

“Rosanna!” A voice, dueling in the distance, warns.

In a panic, Rosanna casts a healing charm.

Hermione returns the gesture.

They put on a good show, before Hermione finally disarms her. In the chaos, only she and Rosanna know that's all she's done.

"Ahh!" Rosanna howls, falling to the ground clutching her belly.

"What is it, darling? Is it the baby?" Narcissa is beside her in an instant, abandoning her post.

"Something's wrong." Rosanna lies.

"We'll call the midwife straight away." Lucius assures her, appearing only a second later.

Everyone but Draco and Bellatrix have stopped firing curses at the golden trio.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Draco demands, as he and Harry wrestle over his wand. Over powering Potter for just a second, he leans down to whisper. "Knock me off, take the wand and go."

Harry listens, they disapparate with Dobby, but not before Bellatrix throws her knife into the mix.

————————————————————————-

The midwife arrives shortly after, checking Rosanna over. Deciding that the stress might have caused a bout of false labor pains, and orders her a weeks bed rest with increased fluids.

Draco waits on her hand and foot, playing his part well. He quite enjoys doting on her and the growing baby in her belly.

As soon as Ro is cleared for regular activity, she and Draco spend the night in the kitchen. Making tacos the muggle way, the way Rosanna's grandmother had taught her when she was just a little girl.

"Why is this so bloody good?" Draco says in disbelief, diving another chip into the guacamole.

Rosanna is seated atop the cool granite island, contently swinging her feet. The platinum haired boy in the high rise chair to her left. "I told you. The baby likes tacos." Rosanna notes, feeling the infant practically doing flips in her belly.

"Course he does, he's my son." Draco grins at her, moving to his feet to have a feel.

"Everyone keeps saying boy. How do you know?" She cocks her blonde head to the side.

"The last ten generations of Malfoy have only a single male heir. Truthfully, I'd be just as happy with a girl. I do worry though, that they'll have an accent." Of course he wasn't actually concerned. Draco could listen to her speak, uninterrupted, for days on end.

"I don't have an accent." Rosanna bats at him.

"This estate will be ours someday. I'd like to fill it." Draco confesses, stealing a bite from his abandoned taco.

"You want more kids?" It isn’t something that’s ever come up.

"Not straight away. But after a while," he nods. "I want everything with you. A proper wedding, a home filled with our children, their laughter. Pets, if they please you. Holidays in America, show our children where their mother is from, why she talks funny. Send our children off to Hogwarts and take pride in whichever house they're sorted into. We can grow old together, we can be happy together."

"I'd like that." Rosanna decides.

"Can I tell you something else?" Draco asks, drumming his free hand against her knee.

"Mhm." Rosanna hums, around a mouth full of taco shell.

"I was never truly happy until I met you." He confesses.

"That’s not true.” Rosanna rolls her brown eyes.

"I know you hate me going on about it." Draco grins, looking down at his hands. "But being with you, eating tacos that we made, on a stove, which I hadn't the slightest idea how to work... You make me feel like I can do anything. You never make me feel daft for having to learn. No one's ever done that for me. Only you."

It still startles him, the depth of his love for her, the way it never seemed to bottom out. How he would look at her with absolutely certainty that he couldn't love her anymore than he did at that moment and then somehow he always did.

"That's because I love you," Rosanna says, before bursting into tears, "dumbass." She adds for good measure.

Part 4

[tasklinemgr]

✨ 🌺 🍀 🌂 for any of your ttcc guys

I'll answer these for Kit McCrane because I think they would be the most interesting with these particular questions

✨ - Honestly, I came up with Kit kinda on the spot because I liked how it sounded. And then I made up the surname McCrane because he's a construction worker and it sounded nice with Kit.

🌺 - Kit is dating my OC Terracotta, who is the father of my OCs Basil and Cilantro. Kit doesn't see any issue with herself, a cog, with a toon for a partner, because he feels he has more in common with toons than he does with the cogs at the top of the capitalist hierarchy. The two have only been dating for about three years, and Kit hasn't even met the kids yet. She hopes they'll like him. (Spoiler, they won't </3)

🍀 - Honestly, I'd started to conceptualize Kit a while after I'd already decided on Terracotta having a cog partner, which makes me feel a little bad because it reads like Kit was written to be a love interest and a love interest alone. (She has plenty of connections and relations separate from him, though.) They were written with a lot of traits that mirror Terracotta's.

🌂 - Cartridge, the city I made up in which Kit and Terracotta live (and Basil and Cilantro grew up in), is a bit of a gritty setting, especially compared to Toontown, so I could easily see Kit being the protagonist of some sort of dystopia.

And, just for fun, I'm gonna put the Kit lore I have written down under a cut in case anyone wants additional context for this or wants to learn more about my beloved goober. (Since I don't post much OC lore to tumblr)

This gentle construction worker is known by his peers as someone that gets easily distracted. They're a worrier, who can come up with about a million different ways any given situation can go wrong. She tries not to let this keep her from getting out and doing things, and actually has quite the adventurous side.

If Kit told you they have a criminal record, you'd probably think she was telling a weird unfunny joke. No, he hasn't been to jail or anything, but he's been slapped with fine after fine for the repeated offense of climbing skyscrapers in Cartridge. One might wonder why someone so anxious would do something so dangerous, but for Kit, it's the perfect outlet to calm their nerves. Her loved ones really want them to stop though, especially after seeing what happened when they fell down that one time. (If it weren't for a generous favor from a friend, she'd still be paying off that repair bill.) Honestly, Kit doesn't understand why everyone worries about him so much; he does more than enough of that already.

If he had a "dream job", it would be a costume designer; they're quite passionate about theater. But they're satisfied where they are, content to help her partner Terracotta make clothing as a mere hobby. (Their coat is actually a gift from him!) Kit loves asking his partner to sing for them; his voice is just so beautiful. They're also looking forward to being able to finally meet Terracotta's kids. She doesn't find it strange at all that they chose to date a Toon, after all, she has more in common with them than she does any of the wealthy Cogs of Cartridge. Strangely enough, one rich person, the mayor of Cartridge herself, has taken a liking to Kit; she even bought him and Terracotta live tickets to its favorite game show.

Sometimes, when Kit goes in for maintenance, people notice a strange file on their hard drive. Nobody's been able to decrypt it though, and Kit spends a lot of time worrying about what it is and why it's there.

[shipstorms]

stalag arrival

The cart has been hobbling along for eons. 

Sometimes they hit a rock or other debris hard enough that Bucky's head bounces against the wood. He lets it happen, attempts to imitate the sounds of the other bodies he's been lumped in with. Pretty soon a sharp ringing takes up residence somewhere behind his left ear, clanging anew every so often like a tuning fork. 

He's waterlogged, barely conscious. A bloated, drowned doll dredged up from the bottom of a lake. But he's alive.

-

Back in Wisconsin, before flight school and this whole damn war, Bucky helped slaughter pigs on two occasions. The first time, the money he earned went straight to the dog track before it even had a chance to settle in his wallet, which is what led to the second and last time, wherein either the pig did something herky-jerky or maybe the angle was off, but in any case the spray of gore was truly godawful and he never went back.

The memory flickers to life in his mind without effort. Moreso triggered by the smell, or maybe the cold rubbery weight on his wrist that used to be someone's leg. A sourness has pooled into the back of his throat, threatening to overflow when the wagon jolts to a stop. He tries to breathe through it while the men speak.

Then the shovel whistles downward before coming to a sickening and sudden stop. 

He runs. Falls down. Runs again. Falls down again, this time into a hole that tunnels him into a neverending blackness until an insistent prodding lifts him out of the dark and a boot lodges underneath his chest to turn him over like an animal on a spit. 

He opens his eyes -- attempts to, anyway, but there's a fiery ball radiating behind his cheekbone, a universe of pain so shocking in intensity that he gags from it. 

Still alive, then.

-

They get him walking. He stumbles twice but claws himself back up, fingers curling through dead pine needles and soil, because fuck having their hands on him. Once he blacks out, though, he doesn't have much choice in the matter, and then he's being shoved into a car. Every time he comes to, he's in a different place, barely able to get situated before they're hauling him off somewhere else. 

The old Bucky would've made a bad joke here, probably. The imaginary POW Bucky sure would have; the one he conjured up after they sat through interrogation resistance training. Fellas, why don't you buy a guy dinner first before all this jerking around, huh? Clear-headed and wise-cracking, waggish even in the face of doom. 

This Bucky can hardly even string a thought together. This Bucky plods along in whatever direction he's pointed in, which is a miracle in and of itself, that his legs are still working. This Bucky only stays conscious long enough to arrive at a next place, and a next place, and a next place. 

Until Haussmann says Buck Cleven, and suddenly, just like that, the haze disappears. Clear as anything, Bucky imagines lunging over the desk and smashing Haussmann's face into the desk over and over. He could do some damage before any guards came in. He's sure of it.

Instead he states his own name. His serial number. Smokes a cigarette and repeats the information like he's supposed to.

They allow him to use the head. Some officer's, by the looks of it. There's even a sheet of metal tacked up on the wall through which Bucky is able to see himself somewhat clearly for the first time in a week. The reflection is unfamiliar enough that he actually touches his fingers to it. He looks beat to hell, obviously. Like flesh turned inside out. Even the whites of his eyes are crackled through with red. 

Fuck you, he mouths. Tries to remember that he's a man, not just a vessel of adrenaline and the barest threads of whatever billion-year-old life-sustaining processes evolved to ensure survival.

Even though he watches his mouth move, the brain-body connection fails to spark. He repeats himself once, twice, three times, each utterance stoking a bone-deep, impotent rage until he grabs the edges of the sink and squeezes until he sees stars. Getting there doesn't take much. All the blood loss, he realizes.

The world eventually sharpens again. He prods at his chapped lips for a brief second, then pulls the edge of his shirtsleeve down and leans in close to swipe his face clean.

-

Men are shuttled onto the trucks in masses. Next thing he knows, daylight is streaming into the car like a Broadway spotlight. He moves outside dumbly, processing the barbed wire fences and guard towers, the faces peering at them from behind the barrier.

Then he sees them. He sees him, resting his arms through the fence like it's a bartop a million miles away from any war, restrained and calm amidst the rest of the screaming faces around him. Strangely, Bucky had also imagined this part for his imaginary POW self: this exact moment of reunification, the way Gale's eyes never leave him for the entire welcome parade in. 

An illusion, Bucky's convinced, until Gale calls out, "What took you so long?"

Bucky smiles. His face, still in the nascent stages of healing, feels like it's ripping apart again but he can't stop smiling. The indelible relief in Gale's posture is only recognizable because he feels it himself, too, blooming through his body in an overwhelming brushfire. Everything within him seems to catch flame alongside it. He's kismet, he's fate, he's a ball of goddamn light as he walks through the high-wired gates.

-

He tells Gale -- Gale! Here! In this hellhole, waiting for him! -- the pig story after the second time he asks about Bucky's "travels", in lieu of the actual events. There was what seemed to be a carefully considered number of days between asks, like he wanted to give Bucky time to settle into stalag life and come up with a neatly packaged interim history for his own sake. 

Joke's on Gale, though, seeing as Bucky wasted that time mostly staring at Gale's profile and the back of his head when no one else was looking. At night, he listened to Gale breathing for hours. That misfiring brain-body connection was evidently a general brain-reality affliction and even now, after a week, after the hustle and bustle of his arrival has settled, he finds himself doubtful about his or Gale's existence in this place at all. 

"It was like a horror show, Buck, I swear," Bucky says. "Wish you could've seen that pig."

Gale makes an agreeable noise, then pats Bucky's shoulder. Bucky is still laid up in bed for the most part, groggy in the mornings and sacked out by 2000, only to float in a purgatory between sleep and waking all night.

Gale pats him once more. "I'll bring you some food." 

"Nah," Bucky dismisses. "Crank already brought me some."

"Doc said it'll take a few weeks to feel right again," Gale goes on, as if Bucky hadn't even spoken. "Don't fight me on this, now," he adds in a softer voice. 

That ugly rage crests through Bucky. He swallows it down and says, "Get a good dessert this time then, will you? Something with fudge."

"Fudge," Gale echoes. "I'll see what I can do about that."

"Thanks." Gale's taken his hand back and Bucky rolls onto his side, trying to emulate the pressure. "Helluva place to have ended up, huh?"

"Helluva place," Gale repeats again, seemingly only half-there.

He blinks, hard, while looking at Bucky the whole time. Bucky wants to shake him by the collar, ask, What? What is it? Wants to ask all kinds of other things too -- is Gale hiding any injuries, does he think Bucky's face is gonna heal well, how did it feel to bail out, did he even like potatoes back home, is this the beginning of the end?

"Some pilots we are," Bucky says instead. He huffs a laugh, since Gale is apparently on copycat mode, and sure enough there's an answering smile from Gale, who's still making no move to actually leave. The longer he stands there, the more restless Bucky feels.

"Chow time's gonna be over if you don't get a move on," he points out. 

Gale nods and finally makes for the door. "I'll be right back," he says, tapping the doorframe on the way out. 

-

When Bucky is well enough to explore the world outside the barracks, Gale asks for a third time. They stand under the eave of their combine, Gale watching Bucky smoke like he's finding it deeply educational. 

"Did I ever tell you about that pig?" Bucky says in response.

In the distance the sun is setting, turning the horizon into a thrumming blood vessel. He squints at it and imagines a shovel hacking through the atmosphere, spilling all that light into the sky like a broken yolk.

"Bucky," Gale says in that low, sorrowful voice, the frequency of which cuts straight into Bucky and makes him want to put his fist through the fucking wall.

He ashes his cigarette instead and forces himself to look at Gale, just as Gale is placing his hand on Bucky's shoulder. It sits there for only a second before moving up to cup around the bare skin on the side of his neck, gentle and yielding, skin to skin. Before he can stop himself, Bucky turns into it, under the guise of politely blowing smoke in the other direction. 

Gale scritches at the hair sloping behind his ear. Bucky coughs, swallows. Clears his throat. Gale can still feel him shaking, probably. 

Thing is, Bucky wants to give him an answer. But when he looks back now, the memory keeps skittering away before he can catch hold of it. The only part he truly remembers is being blessed with his own personal holy trinity during interrogation: smokes, booze, and Buck Cleven. 

He wonders how Gale would respond, if he were to say this out loud. 

"You're alright now," Gale asks -- reassures -- something. In any case it makes Bucky want to laugh and laugh. 

"Yeah, I am," he lies. "I'll be even better once we find a way out of here."

"We're working on that part," promises Gale.

Gale's hand is still on Bucky's neck and Bucky is still turned into it, now watching his cigarette burn down to the filter between his fingers. He holds onto it for as long as he can, even as the cherry threatens to blister.

[goldendivinewrath]

@forgivenpunishment

"Wolfwood..." There's a shaky little near-break in his voice on the very word, the needy rhythm of his pulse felt through the petals, activated more by the touch of fingers. It's difficult to concentrate but he needs to, and besides that, the other man's reactions are-- Everything. They're important, obviously, giving Vash the feedback he needs, still slightly nervous about the whole thing. It's not nerves that are starting to tense and coil in his abdomen all over again, though; that's purely arousal for Wolfwood's arousal, and isn't that feedback loop dangerous thing?

Well, no more dangerous than how willing the other man is to act as much as react, the sight and the sounds incredible but the actions and the touches... He doesn't realize how brightly his eyes shine, has no idea there's only the mildest flash and flicker of Plant lines along his skin, but mostly where the lines are, where they lead to...

The mention of helping, of Wolfwood being inside, is enough to activate thread-thin flickers, glimmers, pulsing glows along the petals of his flower and everything that leads to it; thighs spread wider, abdomen, drawing the eyes, welcoming, inviting. The want almost knocks the words right out of him, but it isn't until he realizes the sound he's hearing is his own moan that he remembers he sort of has to communicate verbally to be understood. "Yes, yes, please, inside, I want--"

He's grateful for what is definitely just going to become incoherent begging after a few more seconds to be swallowed by a kiss, kisses, moments of tenderness and heat. Enough to get a few breaths in. Enough to calm a little, just a little, and think. Obliterated a moment later as the concept takes hold: taking each other. Both inside.

The gush of slick really would be embarrassing under any other circumstance. "Are you--" He stops short of asking, of really asking if Wolfwood's sure, because he knows. It's stunning and powerful and good, the invitation and request and maybe just a little bit of a demand, and--

Sparing a moment more to ask a silly question when the answer is right there? Still, still, tendril all too gently uncoiling from the other man's shaft to focus on brushing just a little further back, the tip of his free vine following thighs and then dipping lightly into the cleft they lead to, Vash swallows back his own moan. "Let me know if it's too much, okay?" Or not enough. Or anything. He's going to need to pause, gather his thoughts together enough again to find lubrication to do this right, but--

He blinks, going still for just a moment before repeating the motion of sliding the tendril tip over Wolfwood's cleft again, not entirely meaning to tease. Oh! Oh. He didn't-- He kind of had no idea that he could do... that... With something like a shy laugh, he lets the vine move back and forth freely, spreading something slick and warm all on its own while making him feel warm and tingly. "Can't really beat these for convenience." Vash jokes. Self-lubricating vines as a concept is going to be so embarrassing later. Much, much later. Now, it's exactly what he needs to re-angle the vine and position the tip at Wolfwood's entrance with a subtle swirling motion. The vines around the man's legs still aren't directing, but they do tug forward gently.

It's good. Good. Confusing, but good. He wants to be filled and he wants to fill and everything at once is so much but not too much but it's still a lot and he... really doesn't mean to nip lightly at Wolflwood's bottom lip. He doesn't! And he doesn't bite! It's a nibble, really. His teeth are just really sharp and as soon as he realizes what he's doing, he flinches a little, which doesn't help. He doesn't even know if he's drawn blood when he starts whispering "Sorry" against the man's lips, mixed in with "It's okay", and a little bit of "Slow, we'll go slow at first, alright?"

@goldendivinewrath

"Nnnghh," Wolfwood gasps as the twisting vines take hold of his entire sex, brushing against places he'd never even considered erogenous zones—or never considered at all. He was right to bring the tendril down there, his lustful brain supplies, the appendages act like they have minds of their own. Nicholas feels his whole body heat up at the feel of vines creeping up his legs like lattice, and his heart beats faster in anticipation.

Somehow he keeps his eyes open despite the blush—and he's glad that he can. Vash's plant patterns glow brilliantly, but more importantly, those striking blue eyes light up with great interest, and Wolfwood can't keep his gaze away from them. It distracts him from the needy petals demanding his attention down below, until he feels them grip around nothing but his skin.

Taking a brief moment away from Vash's mouth, he breathes a soft laugh before lowering his hand once again, allowing the petals to take hold of it. His finger and thumb brush one of the single petals from base to tip, curling it gently as he goes. "You're needy," Wolfwood states the obvious, "Maybe I can help with that first."

He tries shifting his weight, only to wriggle against the groping tendrils—he has to stop himself from coming undone just from that. His face contorts in pleasure, squinting, squeezing an eye shut, furrowing his brow... a quick, higher pitched gasp reveals his near-failure to prevent an orgasm.

"Va-aash," Nicholas whines, somehow managing to pull himself forward, lining himself up with the hungry flower as if it's only natural to do so. "D'you want—wa-nt me in here? Fuck—"

His breathing quickens again before he has to force himself to slow down. He replaces his breathing with more Vash kisses, but the subconscious rocking of his hips is distracting, especially so close to Vash's opening.

One hand reaches to stroke the side of Vash's head; he runs his fingers through the blond strands, letting them engulf each one. "God, I want everything. Want you. Everywhere." Wolfwood kisses him again, humming a moan, "You told me to take what I want. Wanna be tangled with you. Wanna not know where I end and you begin. Don't—don't stop—Vash—"

Wolfwood nips at Vash's neck, right below his ear, then gets close enough for his hot breath to tickle the inside of the Plant's ear, "Take me."

[evil8keta]

Hoe your doing alright:D

Can i have the mercs reacting to the reader making dumb jokes like "OMG YOU HAVE LIGMA.." "LIGMA BALLZ🤣‼️" LMFAO SORRY IF ITS WEIRD😇

mercs x reader who has ligma

SCOUT

- thinks you're hilarious asf and literally bursts into laughter whenever you use a yo mama joke on somebody. however when you use a joke like that on him he stops laughing immediately and looks at you with a straight face.... like how DARE YOU do this to him. also he's definetely gonna unknowingly copy you so now there's two people in the base making annoying jokes. yay

PYRO

- they do NOT understand any of your jokes and they don't even bother asking you to explain. pyro is just glad to see you happy so chances are they're going to laugh with you, even if they don't know WHY lol. they just like seeing you laugh yknow!!!

SOLDIER

- like pyro, he does NOT understand the joke. you're gonna have to explain it to him in great detail but after that he's gonna laugh. VERY LOUDLY. this cycle repeats everytime you use one of your epic awesome jokes. he asks you what it means, you explain, he laughs. "CADET! EXPLAIN!" (insert painfully long explanation that even someone like soldier can understand) "HAHAHA! THAT IS VERY FUNNY" it sounds sarcastic over text but this is his honest reaction i promise

HEAVY

- ohhh PLEASE don't use these jokes on heavy please look at this poor man. look at him. bro is just chilling, eating a sandvich.... are you really going to ruin his day with a candace joke?? /hj no but fr he's gonna be SO confused. like he does understand the punchline, but WHY do you find this funny? everytime you make a joke like that in front of him there's just one big cartoony question mark next to his head...

DEMOMAN

- loves you fr fr, like genuinely he thinks you're the funniest person EVER. doesn't matter if you use these jokes on him or on someone else, demo's gonna bend over laughing and slap his knee like that was the smartest joke he's ever heard. you received the title of his "funny friend", so everytime he invites you and the others to drink he boasts about how funny you are and how everyone needs to see for themselves

ENGINEER

- ohh he also loves you and your jokes, he's just not very vocal about it. he's smart so he gets the punchline immediately, and after a while of you saying these jokes to him, he's gonna get pretty good at guessing the patterns. engie even thinks of new jokes for you to use like DAMN you got yourself a professional joke composer

MEDIC

- surprisingly?? he finds your jokes hilarious?? he's old and insane but funnily enough your deez nuts jokes make this doctor giggle. he likes quoting your jokes when he's operating on other people, it really makes the surgery go by quicker! :D he will also boast about you to his patients. "oh yes zhey are SO funny you just have to meet zhem!" he says as he accidentally puts the liver of someone else into the wrong body. AGAIN

SPY

- HATES your jokes, he thinks they're annoying. also he's too smart to fall for them so i recommend to just give up on him. everytime you try to say something funny spy just scoffs and pretends to ignore you smh. BUT, whenever you use a ligma joke on scout and he falls for it, spy laughs. like bro is not even trying to be subtle, he just starts cackling. was it your joke that made him laugh or was it scout's stupidity? who knows. but he DID laugh

SNIPER

- hates your jokes, like ACTUALLY hates them. one time, back when you two weren't that close yet, he even pointed his kukri at you because you kept saying amogus or something. that's in the past though, he's a changed man. whenever you want to joke with him now he just looks you dead in the eye like "...you're going to say joe mama, aren't you". he loves you tho, so he DOES tolerate your epic awesome jokes.....FOR NOW!

[irinasaki]

Hi I was wondering if you could do scenario where Kenma, kuroo, ushiwaka and Tendo (separately) catch someone trying to take a picture up their fem s/o’s skirts.

Shouldn't Have Done That

A/N: Hey there @demonbitterbite Sorry if it took two months (and it might not be what you had in mind) but it's here now! It's long overdue and I think this ended up with them being ooc but hope you enjoy!

Kozume Kenma

Having Kenma as your s/o meant at some days, there would be game store dates. And today was no different as the two of you rushed towards the usual store. You don't mind though, it was fun doing the things he likes to do.

"Calm down, Kenma. It won't run away even if we're a bit late." You let out a chuckle as the boy dragged you by the wrist.

"But the game would go out of stock. Today's the release date and almost everyone in the forum's coming down to buy it." He replied without as much as looking back at you.

"Geez, you and your games... Well, as long as I get to play too." He let out a huff and what you assume was an eye roll from your position behind him.

"It's meant to be played with multiple people, anyway."

Arriving, the place was packed but you noticed that not everyone was aiming for a particular shelf that your boyfriend had been eyeing since he stepped his right foot in. Hurriedly, the dyed-blonde-haired male grasped your hand tightly in his, pulling you near him.

"Stay close to me and don't... let go," The setter muttered, red slightly painting his cheeks and neck as he shifted his weight from the right to his left foot, "We don't want a repeat of last time."

"Hey! It was only one time and I even made you an apple pie as an apology."

In his eyes, the current situation was like a game. He just needed to avoid the others and get the item while also protecting you from straying far away from him. It took a few long minutes, bumping into sweaty bodies and unexplainable odors before finally, the newly-arrived, open-world RPG videogame was in his hands.

"Did you get it? Please tell me you got it or else I'll have Tetsurou carry his ass over here because we are not--" You spoke first, going on your toes to look over his shoulder when he turned around and waved the item in front of you.

"I got it. I grabbed three just in case their multiplayer function ended up being a joke," Kenma then tucked it away under his arm, "By the way, did you need anything from here before we go?"

"Ah, that's right! I think I saw that gaming console I've been eyeing for a week now--"

It was the sound of a shutter that made you stop. You're not sure whether it was close to you or not but, you were sure it was. You could even feel the fumbling of the person behind you as you eyed Kenma for help.

But he was just silent, glaring so hatefully at the guy behind you as he pulled you behind him, "What are you doing?"

The stranger flinched and was about to run away when he bumped into a customer, stumbling on his feet before falling on his ass, the phone laying beside him. The setter bent over, took the phone, and pocketed it. It was a sigh of relief to see that he now held nothing over you but your boyfriend still wasn't satisfied.

He was pissed off, his normally composed face contorted in disgust as his golden orbs stabbed daggers at the stranger. To the man, it felt like the weight of the whole world was on his shoulders and that heaven dumped it on him on purpose just because he made the mistake of taking a picture under your skirt.

But then, Kenma decides that this person is not worthy of his attention. He needed to check up if you were alright and he did. The man took this opportunity to flee, not after tripping on his own two feet.

"Are you okay?" Your nod was just enough for him to calm down, that was before you heard him grumble.

"What?" There was a pause before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to him.

"Nothing. This is why I don't interact with people, they're idiots." That earned him a laugh from you. And in his head, he felt like he got himself an achievement for making you laugh despite the situation earlier.

"But I thought the reason was that you're not good with them?" He wants to look at you, to glare for knowing the true reason why he doesn't want to interact but he can't. He knows he can't because he's sure he'll fall all over again for being someone he'll step out of his comfort zone for.

And so he grumbles again, keeping his thoughts to himself, "... Let's just go before someone decides to attempt another stunt like that again."

Kuroo Tetsurou

Lately, Kuroo Tetsurou had been busy with work that it was hard to even keep the conversation between the two of you strictly personal and not work-related. So in return, you decided to surprise him. Wearing your best outfit, you waited just outside the building where he was having a meeting at.

"Geez, how long will his meeting even drag on?" You huffed, checking on your phone once more, "Said he'll be out in a sec but makes me wait for ten minutes."

Before you arrived, you had messaged him asking for the time he'll be off work and if he could meet you for lunch. And now, here you were, ten minutes later, listening to your favorite band while you wait. With a sigh, you just hoped that he'll be out before you cancel the surprise.

"Hey," You jumped in shock as a young man taps you on your shoulder, "Sorry. Is this the building for the Japan Volleyball Association?"

"It is."

"Oh good, I was worried that I got it wrong again," The man chuckled as he positioned himself beside you, "Is it okay if I wait here with you?"

"Uh, no, no. Go ahead!" You smiled, turning your attention away from him to your phone and occasionally, the entrance of the building.

It was peaceful for a while until you saw a figure in your peripheral. The tall and lean man with his muscular frame walked towards you, his cat-like pupils staring right at you and his lips curved into a smile. You were about to run over when he signaled you to stop, a finger on his lips to tell you to be quiet. You nod, confusion settling in.

"Oho ho ho, what's this I see?" In a flash, Kuroo's hand gripped onto the male's wrist beside you, "You know, it's not nice to take upskirt photos of other people, especially if that person happens to be my s/o."

"Let-let go, man! I'll delete the photos just let go!" The man struggled, pulling himself free from your boyfriend as well as the menacing look he was giving him.

"You won't even give me a copy?" The once scheming captain asked, "I mean, I don't mind. As long as it was my phone and I have the only copy, with their permission of course."

"T-Tetsurou!"

And he laughs. He's trying to make the situation light for you because he knows how uncomfortable you currently are, even if you don't show it, "Then again, I'd prefer it if it was done in the privacy of our bedrooms and with me and my s/o as the only people present."

"Y-you're crazy!" Kuroo narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening ever so slowly you could see the man panic, "I said let go!"

And the former captain did, sending the man on his ass and the phone in between them. The black-haired male took a few steps forward, bending over to pick up the item, "I'll be keeping this if you don't mind."

He then turns to you, a smile still present on his features. He placed his arm around your shoulders as he guides you away from the man, "Tetsu..."

"Sorry 'bout that, kitten. Are you okay now? Did he do anything else?" As you shook your head 'no', he seems to release a breath he was unknowingly holding, "Good, good. Do you still want to go to that reservation you planned?"

"Yeah-- wait, how'd you know?"

"You don't usually dress up in your favorite, looking all dolled up and pretty just for a simple lunch date, love," With his voice near your ear, a shiver ran up your spine. He was doing this on purpose, was he? "Besides, I know I've been busy lately. So, how does me making it up to you for a whole week sound?"

It was supposed to be you surprising him but with the offer present, you won't even complain, "Sure!"

Ushijima Wakatoshi

"Toshi!" He turned at the sound of your voice from among the crowd. His brows furrowed, confused for a moment because he was sure that you were still in class, "Toshi!"

And there it was again. His teammates are still talking and he's not so sure if his mind was playing tricks because he misses you and wants you right beside him, watching his match.

Then a weight took him by surprise, settling itself on his back. Giggling soon followed as the arms that situated themselves on his neck slipped, wrapping around his waist instead, "Surprise!"

"(y/n), what are you doing here?" The question first popped into his head as soon as he saw your face.

"Classes ended surprisingly early so I thought, why not surprise you? Had Satori on it too just so I could find out where you guys are and here I am!" A chuckle left the captain's lips as he raises his hand to ruffle your hair.

"I'm glad," There was that smile he often showed you on his face, "The game just started so there's still time before ours start."

"Great! I was thinking we could grab something for you and--- sorry, and the team to eat, what do you think?" Looking up at your boyfriend, you could see the way his eyebrows were forced downwards, a frown on his lips, "Toshi? Is there something wrong? Oh, would Coach Washijo get mad at you guys if we did?"

He didn't answer. You wondered what was wrong, was it because of the person who bumped into you just now? But it didn't make any sense for Ushijima to get mad at something so simple. The venue was packed with players, media personnel, and fans that not bumping into one would be the hardest thing to do.

Suddenly, Tendou came over to the two of you. The words you were about to say left as soon as you saw the same look on him. Was there something that you weren't aware of?

"What do we have here?" The redhead slung his arm around the person behind you, his voice was loud and taunting. In the stranger's hand, you noticed something moving.

It was a phone, with the camera on selfie mode. You shrieked, covering your skirt once you realized what was happening. The dark olive-brown-haired captain pulled you behind him, walking towards the culprit.

Ushijima offers his hand, palm facing up. The stranger looking at it, confused. Tendou nudged him, gesturing for the phone in his hand to be handed over to his captain.

"Thank you. But you shouldn't do something like that in the future," Your boyfriend says as soon as the device was in his hand, "It's my s/o's first time watching our match during the nationals and I'm sure you made their experience rather uncomfortable."

"Now now, Wakatoshi-kun. Don't need to rub your relationship in on the poor guy." The middle blocker teased.

"But I wasn't? I was only stating a fact."

"Hmm, why don't our friend here come with me for a bit?" Tendou pulls the person closer to him before snatching the phone from the ace, "Let's go!"

Ushijima turns to you, brows furrowed once more. He was thinking and you're not quite sure what it is about. So you stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. This seemed to snap him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry."

You shook your head, "It's fine. Thank you though. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have even noticed."

"Are you alright? Feeling uncomfortable?" You shook your head no again.

"I'm fine now." And so was he. Everything's fine as long as you are too.

Tendou Satori

It was one of those days where he would be free from the responsibility of work so, Tendou took it as a chance to take you out on a date.

The city of Paris offered so many options for him but he knew it wouldn't be as romantic as seeing the evening view of the cityscape on top of the Eiffel Tower. He could even see it now. That's why he called for his sweet s/o to meet up with him by the park near the tower.

"Satori!" You called out towards the redhead, his figure leaning on a wall, "Sorry I'm late, I overslept and—"

"It's fine. You're here now, aren't you?"

He had donned his usual attire back when the two of you were still teenagers and living in Japan. That was years ago and yet you feel like he hadn't changed a bit—except the hair, that is.

"So, where to? Assuming that you've got something planned since you called me over," Though, looking at the smile on his face made you think otherwise, "B-but it's fine if you hadn't! We could just walk around and talk about whatever. I heard you got called in for a television show, right?"

The redhead laughed, ruffling your hair in delight, "Relax (n/n)-chan, I've got it all planned out! I wouldn't call you if I hadn't unless... you wanted to do something else? Just the two of us?" He leaned closer, nose almost touching yours. Tendou straightened up, laughing once again after seeing your flustered expression, "Just kidding, (n/n)-chan! Ouch hey, sorry! I was only joking!"

If he was being honest, he could just stare at you all day and forget about the date he had planned. you were in your best outfit and not the usual shirt-and-jeans combo you wore at work. The sun was halfway down when he took you by the hand and pulled you in the direction of the tower. The walk would have been smooth if it weren't for two men coming over and stopping you.

"(y/n), It's nice to see you here!" You recognize one of them as your co-worker. You sighed, catching the attention of Tendou, "You look extra lovely today."

"Thank you, Benard. It's... nice to see you here too," There was that look in his eyes that he always had when you were near and in the last minute decision, you plan on to stop the nonsense once and for all, "Oh, this is Satori. He's my boyfriend."

There was this shift in his stance when you introduced your s/o to him. You chose that shaved redhead instead of him? "And are you two off on a date?"

"We are, actually—"

"How about you hang out with us instead?" The abrupt words of your co-worker's friend cut yours off, "I'm sure you'll have a great experience with us. And maybe a photograph of what you're hiding down there as a reward?"

The man already had his phone in hand when Tendou pulled you beside him with an arm around your waist and a sardonic smile on his face that easily made the two uneasy. His dark red hues staring straight at them, at their soul that made them want to run away but their feet stayed glued to the ground.

"Satori..." You pulled at his jacket sleeve, not wanting the situation to escalate any further, "Let's go."

"Ah, I almost forgot! We'd be late if we stay here any longer," He brought you closer to him, walking away. But then he paused, looking back at the two who froze once more, "Let's meet up again! I'd like to know what you have planned for you and my s/o's hang out."

Neither dared to speak as silence engulfed the two of you for a moment. Thoughts had been running around the chocolatier's head: had that guy been harassing you for a while now? Were you ever going to tell him about it?

"Are you okay, Satori?" His face was all scrunched up in annoyance and you have no way of knowing what's going on in his mind.

He huffed lightly, "I should be asking you that."

"Well, I'm fine. And I don't think he'll bother me anymore after this, thanks by the way!" You smiled and yet there was still a bit of doubt.

"You're not just saying that, right?" And when you shook your head no, he lets himself relax, "Then, let's get our date started!"

• • •

Up at the top of the tower, you are in awe of the night view of the city. The wind blew lightly as you gripped the jacket he placed around you earlier closer to your body. You looked back at your boyfriend who had a smile on his lips.

"This is amazing! I love it!"

He stood beside you, one hand on your shoulders and the other in his pockets, "Glad you are. After what happened earlier, thought you deserve a little bit more than this."

"But nothing happened, Satori. You stopped them before they could and I'm glad you were there with me." His one-arm embrace was strong yet gentle.

"Anything for you, my paradise."

[im-a-gaymess]

How do I tell him?

Young!Tom Riddle x Male Reader.

7th Year.

Angsty Fluff? Contains suggestive/smut scenes.

Slight mention of violence (Just Tom wanting to punch the stupid out of people).

Summary: You and Tom are in love with each other, always were, though you only realize it after ending a pretty toxic relationship.

Word Count: 1786

A/N: I thought of this while listening to Strawberries & Cigarettes thought I'd share

[1:42 AM]

"Look, I'm not saying that I want their attention 24/7, it's just that, well, they don't ever try to make time for me. Even when I need them, they're never here. But I'm expected to be there for them at all times. I'm just so tired of it. I don't know what to do anymore." You sighed, lowering your head as your eyes wander around the ground.

You've lost sense of time, place even. Only once you stopped to take a breath did you note how late it became. As you raised your head you saw how dark it really was there. The clouds over the stars making their light nearly non existent, and the moon half hidden behind some trees.

And as your eyes travel all over the quiet, dark yet beautiful sky, Tom's attention is strictly fixed on you.

If only you knew how much that man felt at the moment. Really, he was almost overwhelmed with the amount of different emotions.

For one, how badly he wanted to punch your partner for how deeply they hurt you. He knew, from your previous vents, that there was so much more than them just having no time that bothered you. He wanted to make them cry out apologies with regret guilt for how they made you feel.

But also, he couldn't help but feel the need to hold you, keep you close to him, tell you how everything's going to be alright. How all he wants to do is protect you from all of the world's evil, to keep you from anything that could cause you harm.

Without you even noticing, Tom gently put his hand over yours, rubbing circles with his thumb on your hand. How can someone be so,, so endearing,, so loveable and be treated this way? How could someone ever look at him and want to use him? he thought, not brave enough to bring himself to tell you what he truly thinks of you.

"You know you deserve better, right, my love?" he asked, and you, all too familiar with the pet name reply with a little smile. "Would you be surprised if I said yes?" you chuckled, turning to face him, the sight of the boy in front of you making your smile grow a little bigger, causing the other to look at you with loving eyes.

"I still love them, though, I don't even know why, but I do. I still hope they're going to change, even when I know they won't" you continued, a short, awkward laugh leaving your lips.

"Believe me, sweetheart, I know exactly how that feels." he smiled at you, gently stroking your face with his free hand as the two of you continued to talk about everything, and anything, enjoying the company you gave each other.

[Following day, 4:27 PM]

Who knew that drawing in the library's restricted section would be so relaxing? Sketching animals, book covers, objects and even some random fellow housemates. It wasn't so bad, right?

But let's be honest, you were only using it as a means of distraction, trying to get yourself to forget about the fact that you're going to break up with your s/o. You don't even know how Tom managed to convince you.

Of course, it's for the best, you know that. Doesn't change the fact that you feel so damn guilty about it. I mean, why do you even? It's not like they value you, it's not like they won't have other people lined up to take their bullshit right the moment you decide to leave.

Okay, that's it. You're doing it, you're definitely doing it. You mumbled to yourself. After, of course, another art session in your little distraction place.

[5:54 PM]

What's the worst that can happen if I confess? I mean, it's not like the world would end, not like the world would explode and I'd be buried underneath layers of rock and lava.

You had him feeling something he's never even imagined he'd feel; he was nervous. His forehead full of sweat, causing his hair to stick on to him. What are you putting him through?

Friendship...That's all I am to him. I'm just a friend to [Y/N]. He only sees me as a friend. Nothing more than that. Maybe I shouldn't. I probably shouldn't.

[6:11 PM]

To his surprise, Tom heard a knock on his door. He most definitely wasn't in the mood to see, yet even talk to anyone.

"Tommy? My love, are you in there?" You questioned quite loudly, making sure to be heard from across the wall.

That petname, you have no idea what it made him want to do. Did he want to have you underneath him, touch every little bit of your body? Did he want to show you that you're his? Hear you whine and beg for him to kiss you; and so, so much more than you could imagine.

It's not the time to get lost in such sinister thoughts, Tom, he mumbled to himself, finally walking over the room to let you in.

"Hello, darli―" before he could finish, you rushed into his arms. Wrapping your hands around your friend's waist as your head rested under his own. "I missed you all day, dummie" you spoke quietly, finally happy to spend time with him.

He was quite surprised to say the least, you weren't the type to enjoy going for any type of physical affection of any type, unless it was under certain circumstances. Especially the hug being so long.

He wasn't complaining, he adored it, but he couldn't help but worry. Was something wrong? Were you hurt?

"Love, as much as I enjoy moments like this, is there anything you need to tell me? Should I kick anyone's arse?" he raised his brow, looking down at you.

You shook your head, never letting go of the taller man, a smile appearing on your face. How cute he is when he's worried, you thought.

That's pretty much how the rest of the day night went. The two of you in each other's embrace, spending it in utter silence, just glad to be in your own little world together.

You told him, before going back to your dorm, about how you finally broke up with that douchebag, and was your man proud.

The couple next days, weeks even, went by quickly. You and Tom would hang by the library after classes to complete and give help with what the other might have been stuck on.

Tom walks towards you, so dangerously close, you can practically feel his lips on yours. A hand's glued on the wall next to you, right above your head. Your body pressed against a door, his knee right in between your legs, brushing against your crotch. His other hand pulling you closer by your waist, soon planting kisses all over your jaw and neck. You can't help but melt into his touch, his lips- you just want more, more of him.

You gasp, practically jumping up your bed. It was only a dream, wasn't it you thought, sighed in slight disappointment. You wouldn't like to admit it to yourself, but you've been thinking about Tom in a certain way lately.

That only made things worse for you. Because according to you, he would never see you that way. Because the way you saw it, Tom only ever thought of you as a friend.

And so thought he. He was just as disappointed every time he'd dream of the two of you being intimate, romantically, sexually, it didn't matter. He was just as devastated when he woke up. Always went back to sleep hoping those wonderful dreams would go on.

Both of you had a few dreams like those. Some were a whole lot sweeter. Dates together, just the two of you softly making out with the sound of classical music in the background. All of this causing the two of you a bittersweet feeling, thinking that all of this was just hopeless dreams, impossible to come true.

════════════════════

Starry night, you and him, the lake, the full moon shining bright. There's nothing that could ruin this delightful night. It feels like a dream, so much that you even question the reality of what's going on.

"Is this...real?" you ask Tom, not taking your eyes off the sky you so dearly loved. He raised a brow at you, looking at you in a clearly confused expression.

"If it wasn't, we'd be doing more than just stargazing, love" he chuckled, really hoping you'd take it as a joke.

"What would we be doing then, darling?" you question once again, mocking the way he calls you petnames while at it, a visibly evil smile painted on your face.

Tom takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, turning to face his pretty boy. "Do you really want to know, [Y/N]?"

The usage of your name kind of, just a little bit, frightened you. Not in a necessarily bad way, more like in a 'I have no idea what to expect next' way.

"What would you do if I kissed you?" he smirked at you, feeling oddly confident, though your silence and shocked face slowly faded. He was about to mutter apologies 'till you let out a mumble. "I'd like that" you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What was that, my prince? Would you kindly repeat that for me?" he told you with a straight face, making you wonder if he truly didn't hear you. If only you knew the amount of pride he felt at that moment, barely four words and his mind wandering to so, so many things he knew the both of you would like.

The shade of your cheeks changed a bit, was it from embarrassment? Or from the idea that he may actually like you back. Either way, you did repeat what you had told him, blushing even harder as there was an ever-growing smile on your face.

Soon enough, Tom sat up, leaned against a tree nearby. Motioning on his lap, he asked you to sit there, and happily you did.

You've never seen him smile like that. He looked at you like you're the only person in the world. His hands firmly on your cheeks, slowly pulling you in.

Your arms instinctively went around his neck, tilting your head to the side in order to deepen the kiss.

Once you pulled away to take a breath, his hands rested on your lower waist, his eyes staring at you lovingly as they always did.

"You know I'm no good with words." you looked at him exactly the way he was looking at you; you were truly each other's everything. "I know, my prince" his hand wandered around his loverboy's hair, soon pulling him in yet another kiss.

He knew he loved you, and now he was sure you loved him too. Only thing is, he wasn't sure how to ask you to take over the world with him, but for now, he was happy with what you had, and so were you.

[eremiie]

hbd cornelius springer <3

❥ nsfw | 3.2k words | connie x fem!reader

❥ content - blowjob

❥ the birthday boy deserves some birthday head!!!

happy birthday connie springer, and happy belated birthday @arlerted ily both a whole lot <3... i started this at like 4am so pls bare with this

"you enjoying your birthday?"

connie turns around at the sound of your voice, soda can in hand while he closes the fridge door.

the way his face lights up when he connects your voice to your face makes you beam. his eyes get wide, eyebrows rise up, and a crooked smile graces his features as you walk forth, your hand trailing against the kitchen counter.

it makes you smile, the ways he's immediately stoked to see you. it's endearing if anything and your heart flutters at the excitement that twinkles in his eyes at your appearance.

"duh... yeah of course i like it."

"duh... yeah of course i like it."

"duh... yeah of course i like it."

his stupid smile shifts into a small smirk and he picks up his drink to take another sip. "what're you lookin' at?"

seriously? were you that obvious?

he leans back against the corner of the kitchen counter, twirling the soda can in his hand to shake his drink up while steadying himself with his elbows. you can tell the question was one he was genuinely waiting on an answer for— it was to just rile you up and one for him to shrug off with a 'just messin'.

you roll your eyes. there was no reason to give him an ego. "your ugly party hat." your tone is snarky, and a breathy laugh leaves connie's throat as he shakes his head at you. he beckons with two slender fingers.

"come 'ere."

your stomach turns at the gesture— no at the sentence and you curse the slight stubbornness that keeps you standing where you stood with your arms crossed. "what?"

connie holds your gaze easily, and instead of giving you an answer his hand reaches out to pull you towards him by your forearm.

you stumble forward until you were situated between his feet, a strong hand encasing your wrists and his breath fanning across your face from the proximity of you and connie.

his eyes look more hazel up close, green and yellow dancing like a fiery bright fire. you can feel the denim of his jeans rub against the fat flesh of your thighs from where you stand, and connie makes no effort to move back.

it's a clear invasion of your space but neither you or him seem to mind— and you hope connie didn't take the way your heart jumps in your chest and your suddenly uneven breathing as a sign that you did mind. no, it was the exact opposite of that if anything.

"are you enjoying the party?" his voice comes out a little too smooth for your liking. where was the slight cracks in his voice as he spoke or the lilts in his tone as he tried his best to be a flirt?

the way he looks at you doesn't help. his eyes are low lying, having trouble staying focused on only just yours. you notice them flit a little lower every now and then before popping back up to match your gaze.

you hoped you came off as unbothered— stable and unfazed by his sudden demeanor. if it wasn't obvious by now your slight attraction to connie was something that you couldn't seem to let go of ever since you had first met him.

you hated how goofy he was and how the lame jokes he'd crack would always make you laugh regardless of how stupid. you hated how  somehow he'd always coerce you to do the handy work when it came to class projects because he was too lazy to get up off his own ass and help you. you hated how even through all these little silly quirks of his if he really wanted to with a few slip ups here and there he could make the hairs on your arms stand and have you stop breathing just from a slick look and slick sentence.

you hated all these things because they all made you feel gushy inside no matter how dumb it was. they made your body warm and gave you this comforting feeling that you couldn't get from anyone else.

so when connie repeats another "hm?" catching you off guard for the second time, that warm feeling returns because this time the pads of his fingers drum against your shoulder, a little to close to the junction near your neck.

"as long as ymir and sash keep me entertained, then yeah. this little 'party' isn't that bad." your quick with your response this time once he sets you back on track and you calm a bit.

"so ymir 'n sash are the life of the party for ya?" he pouts, and you scrunch your nose up when he leans in a little more, a mock pitiful expression on his face. "damn, 'n i'm supposed to be the birthday boy... that's crazy."

you can tell he's a little under the influence. despite it being his birthday he was actual one out of a few to keep their drinking at a light tonight. you couldn't say the same for armin who was currently passed out and curled up at the safety of mikasa's side on the large sofa, or for reiner who was last crying to ymir before she managed to 'shut the fuck up jockey' him as you walked pass.

you liked it like this though, liked to know that the interactions between you and connie weren't entirely the alcohol talking.

but it wasn't like it was ever really anything but him talking when he got more than comfortable with you.

light touches up the soft skin of your thighs, moving you around by placing his hands on your waist (where you must say they fit like a puzzle), or attacking you in tickles when he decided to crash at you and sasha's place and you wouldn't pass up the remote.

those were all connie, but it was nice to know that the person in front of you was mostly connie as well.

"you are... you just haven't been keeping me company as you should have." you lift up a hand right in front of his face and pretend to inspect your nails before dropping four fingers down to your palm and turning your nails to you once again.

connie let's out a low laugh at the gesture before using his own palm to cup the top of your hand. you expect him to push it down and let go but he only holds it in his grip with that same dumb smile plastered on his face as he doesn't fail to keep eye contact with you.

"ha-ha, so funny. you act like we didn't dance together," you recall the memory of connie hoisting you up from the couch and spinning you around until your backside was pressed against him, asking you to 'dance'. if anything that encounter is probably what encouraged the tingle between your legs and pushed you to follow connie into the kitchen. "sit together for like a good ass while, and play cards together— cheating together i might add."

you giggle, "did eren not realize that practically half the deck was under my ass and in your pockets?" connie reciprocates your giggle in his cheery tone and he raises the soda can to his lips again to empty it out inside his mouth.

"nah, but for real, what more company do you need?"

in the back of your head you had a solid idea of the kind of company you needed from connie, but you weren't even sure if your mind was quick enough to formulate it into a sentence that sounded appealing to the ears, enticing even.

a dramatic sigh leaves your lips and your hands come up to connie's head, one index plucking at the thin string below his chin and the other one holding the loud party hat until you were pulling it off and fiddling with it in your hand.

connie's hand automatically comes to rub at the short grey strands with a small frown at the absence of his hat. he stands up straight so he's peering down at you and his arm swings over your shoulder as he begins walking the two of you towards the exit to the kitchen abandoning his empty can of soda. "what?"

you slow down your pace so that he slows down and pull his arm from around you just as quickly as he placed it there massaging his knuckles in the process.

the eagerness to stay alone with him and not go back out where the chatters of all your friends would become tenfold is what makes you more bold, is what makes you back connie up towards the kitchen island until your practically leaning on him with doe eyes, fluttering your lashes and saying, "just wanna be alone with you for a minute..." you hesitate for a moment before beginning to speak again, "i gotta present for you, but we gotta go upstairs."

it's like your words alone manage to somewhat crack the demeanor he had going on. how his mouth slightly parts and how his body tenses up slightly tells you. you're thankful for the small adrenaline rush a measly walk to the archway gave you.

"shit, what's upstairs?" you relish in how he feeds into your words instead of stuttering under pressure and his hand moves to the small of your back pulling you even closer.

it's noticeable that he likes to feel your skin on his, and his hands are warm against the skin of your hip, practically singeing it with just his touch. it sends a hot feeling throughout your body and you indulge in him some more, fully enveloping your hand with his free one and giving a nice smile.

"if you come with me then it'll be me and you," and he lets you pull him along like a dog on a leash, sticking as close to its owner as possible as he's so close behind you that you can feel him up against your back as you begin to nonchalantly walk past your group of friends conversing in the living room.

for you it's easy to ignore their remarks and looks of 'finally'. after all, you knew they were coming. but connie couldn't, shooting silly faces to his audience as he lets you pull him along.

"they're finally fucking."

"go, birthday boy!"

"gettin' some birthday pussy!"

"_______, bite his dick off for me!"

the only phrase to elicit some sort of reaction from you is the mumbly one from sasha from whatever was in her mouth as she encouraged you to injure connie.

all the phrases seem to get one out of connie, from him pretending to fuck you from behind causing you to pinch the tan skin of his wrist to him making kissy faces at jean, eren, and even to ymir who further encouraged you to take a chomp out of his little friend.

you lead him through his bedroom door, immediately locking it because you know he'll forget and then turning to face him again.

when you turn back around connie's still looming over you, his hands lankily at his sides and it's as if he doesn't know what to do with them.

it makes you titter, and you take a step towards him pulling at his wrists place his hands back on your hips. "so what's my present?"

your hands come up to come his face and his skin is soft under your touch. he's warm and his breathing is unsteady as you lean forward to press your lips onto his.

he quickly returns the kiss, more fervently than you if anything. connie immediately groans as if the feeling of your lips on his was something he was craving.

connie pushes you against the door, a small thud eliciting from the way your back hits it and he lets go of your hips to cup your face and bring you deeper into the kiss.

the way he presses up so close against you makes you part your lips slightly giving him enough time to slip his tongue into your mouth until it's slotted alongside yours.

his knee parts your legs and bump against your crotch making you moan and let go of his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

you pull back to breathe for a brief moment— and connie's eyes are overcast with lust. he doesn't have that twinkle from earlier and his grip on your hips is tighter than it was a few seconds ago.

he breathes heavily and rests his forehead against yours then dropping his knee. "that wasn't all i get for my birthday, right?"

with another roll of your eyes you shake your head. "it'd be a little rude of me to leave you like this, yeah?"

you slide down the wall until your knees hit the carpet and sit back on your shins. your delicate hands slide down connie's chest until the tips of your fingers are brushing over the buckle of his belt.

"yeah," connie's eyes flutter shut and he places a hand on the door to once again steady himself. "'d be real fuckin' rude of you."

your hands make work of his belt, unclasping the loop, unzipping the zipper and unbuttoning his pants to begin shrugging down the denim.

you had barely even started doing anything yet connie's mouth was slightly parted in anticipation. it was amusing how even the slightest touch from you could elicit a reaction out of him.

you pride yourself in this, and you take your time letting your fingertips massage the length of connie's clothed cock beneath his boxers. his body stutters overtop of you for a quick second and you move your hands to the hem of his boxers to begin pulling them down.

he's pretty; a slightly flushed tip that complimented the tan color of his skin. he's clearly already hard and you swear when your hand wraps around him his dick twitches in your touch. "god," he mumbles.

his dick is heavy in your hand, and he's thick to the touch. with a few test pumps you prop yourself up on your knees once more and place a hand over his thigh. "c'mon," his tone is encouraging yet hurrying, needy.

you click your tongue at him before using it to kitten lip his tip, like you were just trying to get a taste. connie hisses above you and drops his hand down to the top of your head.

"c'mon, we can't take too long with everyone still down there."

you know he's only saying so because he wants to feel your mouth around him. he's only being needy because it's something he'd been craving over the course of a few months. you are something he had been craving and now that you were under him he wanted all of you, starting with what you were willing to give which happened to be your pretty throat.

nevertheless, he's the birthday boy and you want to help pleasure him, making him feel a euphoric feeling that you know he's longed for.

you stick your tongue out and slap his tip against the flat of your tongue, and connie lets out another short groan, his fingers scrunching your hair.

connie shudders from above you and you almost feel bad for teasing him. you let the warmth of your mouth consume him completely— well, as far as you can while your hand works at the remainder.

"yeah, yeah..." he hums and he opens his eyes  again to look down at you.

your mouth around him felt heavenly, and the image of you sucking him off was even better; cheeks hollowed out and hand pumping his length.

you were so pretty.

connie brings the hand in your hand down to your cheek to feel himself through the skin, his tip pressed up against the inside of your cheek as he slightly rolls his hips forward to fuck in your mouth gently.

you pull off of him, pushing spit to the front of your mouth and letting your saliva drip onto his cock.

"fuck, you can't do that," he whines and rubs his tip against your lips until you open up again for him and his hand returns to your hair. "stick your tongue out."

you obey. using the leverage he has on your locks, he pushes deeper into your mouth, bobbing your head as he thrusts forward. small moans leave connie's lips. he's infatuated with the way your tongue slides against his underside as you try your best to relax your throat to let him in.

he loves it, loves how your mouth is so wet and sloppy around him, how it feels so good to be inside you— and he wants to feel every part of you, not stopping at your mouth.

saliva drips from the corner of your mouth and you try to suppress the gags that try to come up. you whimper from underneath connie, and he pulls out to give you a minute to breath.

it's funny how he's breathing harder then you his chest heaving. "that fuckin' mouth,"

you give a slight smile at the compliment, pleased to know you were pleasing him.

"i need it s'more."

what kind of person would you be if you didn't give the birthday boy what he wanted?

so you give him more, using connie's thighs to keep yourself steady, relaxing yourself and breathing through your nose as you let connie fuck your mouth.

he becomes erratic, the grip he has on your hair is slightly painful but you know he's too caught up in his lust, too caught up in the haven that was your throat.

he's so lost in the pleasure that he doesn't warn you when he's about to cum and you only know by the way his cum spills down your throat making you cough and pull off of him.

what you could only assume was a "sorry" comes from him as he calms down, pulling up his boxers and jeans but forgetting to buckle his belt. his hand reached out for you to grab it.

you take it and he pulls you up until you're almost at his height again, that same dumb smile on his face. "did you like your present?" you hum after you clear your throat.

"duh..." his thumb comes up to wipe at the saliva around your mouth before pushing the digit between your lips. you waste no time entertaining him, sucking your spit up and popping off of his thumb. "you thinkin' you could gimme something else though?"

you snort, "what happened to we couldn't take too long cause everyone's downstairs?"

"i'm still hard, it's my birthday, i really don't give a fuck who's downstairs." his words contradict his earlier statement but you brush it off, pulling him by the string of his jacket and pressing another peck to his lips.

"get in the bed birthday boy."

[helloalycia]

overstepping [one] // jane banner (Wind River)

summary: after getting several voicemails from your colleague and best friend with her asking for your backup, you attempt to call her back, only to get no answer.

warning/s: mentions of rape, murder and injuries.

author’s note: this is a two parter because i finally watched Wind River and it broke my heart but also lizzie was v cute and i felt the need to write this, hope you like it x

part two | masterlist | wattpad

"C'mon, work you stupid phone," I complained for the millionth time, before standing on the chair to get a better signal.

When I saw the bars in the corner of the screen increase, a grin appeared on my lips. I loved my parents, but the fact that they lived in a remote cabin in Tennessee with zero signal was not my favourite thing.

When the bars remained, my phone decided to actually be helpful and receive all the messages, calls and voicemails I missed. I did a brief flick through, noticing nothing was too important that couldn't wait for me to return to work. As an FBI agent, I rarely got time off. And now that I had taken a two month vacation to spend with my parents, I was adamant on enjoying it, even if I was missing work a smidge.

Next were the calls, which I noticed were mostly from my colleague and close friend, Jane Banner. I furrowed my brows, realising she'd left me several voicemails, too, which was strange since she knew I was on a break from work. What could be so important?

I sighed, glancing down at my uncomfortable position standing on the chair and leaning above the wardrobe. It was the only place in the house with decent signal and the only other place that wasn’t in the middle of nowhere was twenty minutes out. Telling myself I'd just listen to one voicemail to make sure everything was okay, I played the earliest message.

"Hey, Y/N. I'm sorry, I know you're on a break, but I just had to talk to you," it began, and Jane sounded troubled. "I was in Vegas, as you know, but I've been called out to a reservation in Wyoming where this poor girl was–" She paused, releasing a shaky breath. "She was raped and left to die out in the cold. I thought I could send in another team to take a look – y'know, usual protocol. But the coroner won't rule it a homicide and you know what that means."

I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what that meant. If it wasn't ruled a homicide, no backup would come and we had to move onto the next case. But if this girl was raped and left to die, the rapist was still out there and wasn't getting caught by the FBI.

"I can't just leave it and go," Jane continued quietly, with that recognisable passion for her job evident in her voice. "I have to do what I can. But I... I can't do this alone. It's not like other cases, Y/N. It's different out here. And there's only so much their police department can do. I know you're on a break, but I was hoping that, maybe, you could come out here and help me? It's the Wind River Indian Reservation. That's it, I guess. Bye."

The message ended and I found myself chewing on my lower lip anxiously, unable to think about anything other than Jane now. She'd worried me with that one voicemail alone – I couldn't imagine what the others said.

She was usually so good at dealing with cases, but this seemed different. She sounded shaken up, attempting to put on a brave face by the sounds of it. What was so different about this case? She didn't need me. She was capable.

Curiosity got the better of me and I played the second message, ignoring the discomfort in my arms as I stretched to maintain the signal. It was left a day after the first one.

"Hey, so I just remembered that you said you don't get much signal up there with your parents," she began apologetically. "I don't mean to– shit, it's so cold..." There was a pause, a noise in the background, then she continued, "Sorry, just turning up the heating. Anyway, I was saying. I don't mean to intrude on your break. I just– I'm hoping you'll find signal and hear this because I could really use your help. I think we've got a lead on who may have done it. It was hectic today. Really could've used that backup."

She chuckled dryly at her attempt at a joke, but all I felt was guilt. She sounded exhausted within a day of being there.

"I hope you get this," she finished with a sigh. "I should go. Got a busy day tomorrow. Hope you're doing okay. Bye."

I wasted no time in playing the next message. Three days into her case.

"I don't know why I keep sending these," she began with a hoarse voice, and my heart clenched at the sound of it. "You clearly aren't getting them in time. But it's easier talking to you like this than not at all."

It went quiet, so quiet that I thought she may have finished and forgot to hang up. But then she spoke up again, a whimper escaping her lips.

"It's so hard," she admitted. "We've covered worse cases, but this one... everything about it makes me uncomfortable. Something doesn't feel right. I've got a lead – we think it might be the boyfriend who did it and we're gonna see him tomorrow. But I don't know."

I frowned, squeezing my phone tightly because I didn't recognise the girl speaking as my friend. This girl sounded broken and I wondered what she could have discovered that made her like this.

"I've got the police department with me for backup," she said with a sniffle. "And Cory, he's a hunter whose been helping me with the case. They're all gonna be with me tomorrow. But I wish you were here, too. You always make things easier."

The lump in my throat wouldn't disappear no matter how many times I swallowed it. She made things easier, too. Always. And all I wanted to was be by her side and be there for her like she always was for me.

"Sorry about this," she said with a watery laugh, and I could imagine the embarrassed smile on her face as she did. "I sound like such an idiot. Never mind these messages. Just enjoy your break. I shouldn't be worrying you like this. See you when you get back."

The message ended and I checked to see if there were anymore, but to my disappointment, there wasn't. That message was from a few days ago and she hadn't sent anything since which was concerning in itself.

Trying not to panic for no reason, I called Jane. Hopefully everything was okay and I was being stupid. She was a fully-trained FBI agent. She could take care of herself. Right?

The call rang and rang, but nobody picked up. One missed call. No biggie. She probably heard it and couldn't find her phone or something. So, I tried again.

More ringing and no answer. Okay, no big deal. Just try again.

Another call and no answer. The chewing on my lip became more intense. Why the hell wasn't she picking up? Was she still working the case?

I waited an hour, trying again at ten minute intervals, unable to fight my concern. But there was no answer every time and I realised that I couldn't sit and wait for her to call back. Not after how she sounded in those voicemails.

No, I had to go there. She needed backup.

—

Wyoming was way colder than I could have prepared for.

I mean, technically, I prepared for nothing. I bid my parents a goodbye, threw some random clothes in a bag and caught the next plane over there. I tried for Jane's phone constantly, knowing she was never one to ignore me for this long, but there was no point. She wasn't answering, which could only mean so much.

When I reached the reservation, I had no idea where anything was or what I was looking for exactly. I just knew that as soon as the taxi dropped me off in the centre of town, I didn't know where to go.

There were a lot of locals hanging around, so my first port of call was to ask them if they'd seen Jane around – or Agent Banner, as she may have introduced herself. I showed them a picture of her on my phone, described her with vivid detail, but they just stared at me like I was crazy. I was starting to believe I was at one point, until I stopped by the convenience store.

As worried as I was for Jane's whereabouts, the chill in my bones was real. Especially my hands, which I was certain would fall off any minute. So, I decided to buy some gloves and also ask the cashier if he'd seen Jane around or heard anything of her. Whilst I was doing that, a customer caught my attention, probably having overheard my conversation.

"Did you say Jane Banner?" he asked with a quirked brow, interrupting my purchase. "The FBI lady, right?"

I nodded quickly, facing him. "Yes, that's her! D'you know where she is?"

He nodded casually. "Yeah, she's in the hospital. That big shootout that happened a few days ago, right?"

My stomach dropped. "The what?"

"The shootout," he repeated, not aware of the concern in my face. "At the drill site. A bunch of officers were killed and the FBI lady was one of the only one left standing." He tutted as he shook his head. "Very lucky that one."

A shootout? The hospital? Only one left standing? No wonder she hadn't been answering her calls.

"Can you– do you–" I stopped, clearing my throat and trying to stop freaking out. "Which hospital?"

After getting the address from him, I caught a taxi to the only hospital in town and prayed to God that Jane was okay. The one thing she'd asked for was backup and I couldn't even give her that. If I'd just looked at my messages sooner... fuck.

Getting past the front desk and to Jane's room was no issue at all. A quick flash of my FBI badge was enough for the receptionist to give me the details and wave me through. My heart was constricting in my chest the longer it took. What if it was really bad? What if that customer's intel was outdated and Jane was– no. I couldn't afford to think like that.

Upon finding Jane's room, I spotted an older man leaving through the door, being careful to close it behind him. I didn't recognise him at all.

"Excuse me," I called, earning his attention. "Is that Jane Banner's room you just came from?"

He seemed surprised, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I was speaking to him, before nodding. "Yes. Sorry, who are you?"

I pulled my badge from my pocket and showed him, though I doubted anyone would take me seriously when my eyes were watering at thought of Jane being severely injured.

"I'm her friend," I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat before lowering my badge.

"Oh, you're the backup that didn't come," he said with realisation.

My eyes flickered to the floor guiltily. He wasn't exactly wrong.

"I didn't mean it like that," he added quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

I shook my head, lifting my eyes to meet his. "It's okay. I should've... I should've been here." It went quiet as he didn't know what to say, so I looked to him halfheartedly. "I assume you're from the police department, one of the ones who helped Jane."

"Not exactly," he said, before putting out his hand for me to shake. "Name's Cory. I'm a hunter by trade."

Returning his handshake, I recalled Jane's voicemail. "Oh, yeah, she mentioned you... thank you for helping her out."

When I couldn’t, I added in my head.

He offered me a small smile and I couldn't find it in myself to return it. I must have looked like shit, since he gave me a pitiful gaze.

"You want me to catch you up before you go in?" he asked, nodding to Jane's door. "She's okay by the way."

I nodded, sucking up a breath. My nerves were eating away at me the longer I didn't see Jane – half of me was terrified of what I'd find, and the other half was afraid she'd be upset or angry because I left her to it, even when she pleaded for my help.

Cory and I took a seat down the hall and he proceeded to explain about the case and how they found the guy who raped that poor girl. The shootout was the worst bit, making me shiver with discomfort. Apparently, Jane had gotten blasted with a shotgun, puncturing her torso and neck despite the vest she wore. All of the officers with her were killed and by the sounds of it, Jane almost was, too. But Cory managed to take out the criminals and the rapist himself. When he was finished telling me, I had no words.

"She's a bit shaken up, but her surgery went well," Cory reassured with a short nod. "Does she know you're coming?"

I shook my head, voice thick with emotion. "She wouldn't answer her phone. I guess I know why now."

Cory nodded, rubbing the back of his neck before sparing me a consoling glance. "She talked about you a lot. I think it'll cheer her up seeing you. You should go."

My eyes met his, teary and stinging with unshed tears. "Thank you so much."

He shrugged bashfully, but he didn't realise all that he'd done. I gave him a small, tight smile before standing up with a sigh. No point dwelling anymore – I had to see her.

Pushing my selfish feelings aside, I sucked it up and approached Jane's room. She would either want to punch me or not, but either way, I had to see if she was okay. And so, when I opened the door slightly, heart racing in my chest, said heart jumped in my throat at the sight of her.

She was laying on the bed with wires stuck in her and, only from what I could see, bandages were covering the side of her neck. I thought she was sleeping at first, but then her head tilted towards the door curiously, and bright blue eyes widened with disbelief.

"Y/N?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What are you– how did you get here?"

I closed the door behind me and hesitantly approached her bedside, unable to stop my eyes from soaking in the sight of her. She looked so feeble and vulnerable and unlike how I saw her last. Then, Cory's words came back to me and I began to imagine the worst scenario of her getting shot, blood seeping from her wounds, the life draining from her eyes...

"Y/N," she called, and I looked to her startlingly, hoping I didn't look as troubled as I felt.

"Sorry," I said, clearing my throat. "I, er– the messages. Voicemail. I heard them and tried calling you back, but..."

She pursed her lips, exhaling with a wince and looking up at the ceiling, as if suddenly remembering she left messages in the first place.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," I said quietly, guilt seeping back in.

"No, no, don't be," she said, and I just about noticed the pink dusting her cheeks. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have interrupted your vacation like that. I know you said you wanted a break and–"

"Jane, no, don't even say that," I cut her off, reaching for her hand in an instant. She looked my way, eyes flickering between mine nervously. I squeezed her hand gently and said, "I should have been here. You needed me and I– I didn't come. Maybe if I had, this could have ended differently."

She tried to smile, but I could see the discomfort in her eyes. "It's not that bad, honestly. It just looks bad."

I pressed my lips together, eyes falling to the bandage on her neck. Even though it was big and covered her wound, I could still make out the bruising around it from the impact of the shell. I didn't imagine the torso wound looking any different, and that thought alone made me regret leaving her alone. It was very much as bad as it looked; I knew that and she knew that.

Her lips trembled as she avoided my eyes, her own tearing up. I pushed away my guilt momentarily and changed the subject.

"So, I met Cory. He seems like a great guy."

She didn't say anything as she seemed lost in thought. Either that or she was trying not to cry in front of me. I hoped it wasn't the latter, since the last thing I wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable.

"You know," I said, when she wouldn't speak, "I'm pretty sure I told you to stay safe before I left for my vacation."

At my poor attempt to lighten the mood, she cracked a small, tight smile, but a smile nonetheless, and my racing heart slowed down momentarily.

"I'm glad you're okay," I said, now that I had her attention again, and she looked my way with a softened expression. "Kind of okay. But you know... okay."

Thankfully, she knew what I meant and her hand tightened around mine.

"I'm glad you came," she returned, and I couldn't look away even if I tried. She was always able to trap me with a single gaze.

With a tug of her hand, she motioned for me to sit on the edge of her bed, so I did. And then she began to ask me about my vacation, what I'd been up to this past month, how my parents were... basically anything and everything except for the case. And it was understandable, since she was reminded of it all the time. If I could be a form of escapism for her, so be it. It was the least I could do.

We spoke for hours until the nurse came in to let me know visiting hours were over and I'd have to come back tomorrow. With a regretful sigh, I got up from my seat on her bedside and stretched my limbs.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, a slight frown on her lips.

I smiled awkwardly, realising I didn't think that far ahead. "I'm not gonna lie, I don't know. I came straight here. There's gotta be a hotel or something in this town, right?"

She nodded and flicked her hand to the shelves on the other side of the room. "You should stay in my room in the inn. Key's in my bag over there."

"Oh, I don't have to do that–"

"Y/N, it's not like I'm going to be staying there anytime soon," she cut me off, smiling halfheartedly. "Please."

I chewed on my lip and nodded, giving in. When I grabbed her keys from her bag, I stopped by her bedside and gave her a supportive smile.

"I'll back first thing in the morning, if you don't mind," I said, and she finally gave me a smile that reached her eyes.

"I'd like that."

I nodded, resting a hand on hers and squeezing comfortingly. "Goodnight."

—

Though I knew Jane was okay, I still couldn't stop myself from thinking about her all night. The sight of her wounds and the broken expression on her face was enough to keep me awake. And the guilt that came with it all... why couldn't I have just picked up my damn phone?

As promised, I returned to Jane's hospital room the next morning, this time bringing some breakfast snacks from the hospital cafeteria since I knew the food would be much better than whatever they were serving her. Judging by the content expression on her face when I gave it to her, I was right.

When she finished eating, she was able to sit up slightly and move over on her bed, urging for me to join her and watch some TV with her. There was no way I was going to turn down that offer, so I slid next to her and kept a packet of sliced apples between us as we watched whatever was playing on the TV.

About halfway through watching, she spoke up randomly, taking me by surprise.

"When are you leaving?"

I tore my gaze from the screen and realised she was staring at me with intense green eyes.

"When you're well enough to," I answered truthfully.

She looked down to her hands. "You don't have to stay with me. You can go."

I studied her profile, knowing it was the wrong time to appreciate how stunning she looked even when she was makeup-free, sporting a bed head and tired.

"Do you want me to go?" I asked softly, afraid I may have overstepped.

She was quick to shake her head slightly, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine with glossy ones. "No."

I nodded, trying very hard not to smile, cleared my throat and grabbed her hand. "Then I'm not leaving. I'll be right here until you get better and I can take you home."

A ragged breath escaped her lips as she nodded in response. We both looked back to the TV and I noticed she didn't let go of my hand, her fingers warm to the touch and giving me goosebumps at the contact. But I wouldn't have had it any other way.

[volleychumps]

Can I request a scenario with Kuroo, Bokuto, and Kageyama where their s/o is getting harassed by some creep but when their s/o stands up for herself, they're thinking " oh thank god I don't need to kill anyone". BUT when the creep lays a hand on her, all bets are off and they just punch the dude in the face!Cause there's jealousy and then there's pure protective rage!!!

S/O Who is Getting Harassed w/ Kuroo, Bokuto, and Kageyama 

Warnings: cursing, mild nsfw themes

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

Kuroo

“Kitten, I’m waiting~” 

“Keep it in your pants for a second, will you?” You laugh, your shoulder supporting your cellular device as you hold it up to your ear, shuffling around in your bag to find your wallet with your occupied hands. “I still cannot believe you put me in charge of ice cream duty.” 

“It was to prove that me calling you up in the middle of the night means cuddles and anime!”

“So not a dick appointment?” You joke as your finished getting rung out, the woman behind the counter giving you a strange look as you flinch at the fact that you had actually said that in front of another person as Kuroo’s laughter is heard audibly at the other end of the call. Bowing deeply in apology, you rush out of the convenience store as you breathe in the air of the late-night soothingly to calm your embarrassment. 

“I’m gonna come to meet you halfway, alright kitty?” 

“In your car?” 

“No, in a fucking spaceship. Yes, in my car.” 

You roll your eyes, a smile still on your face as you begin your trek in the desired direction as your sassy boyfriend seemed to be getting impatient. 

“I can just skip and not meet you for this appointment you know-” 

“It’s nOT A-” 

You hum in satisfaction as you end the call, walking along the street in search of Kuroo’s vehicle when an instant feeling of being watched sends a shiver down your back. Your hands straighten your clothes as you glance behind you, unsurprised yet uneasy at the sight of a man seeming to stare you down, eyes raking shamelessly upon your figure. 

Kuroo’s brows furrow as soon as he turns the corner, not having parked far as he sees you looking behind you worriedly, seeming to engage in a uneasy conversation with the stranger before you. 

The greasy grin on said stranger’s face had Kuroo’s feet moving before he could think, but the captain stills when he sees you scoff, crossing your arms heatedly at whatever he had said. Now within a hearing range, Kuroo smirks as he leans against the wall as you tell the creep off, hands finding home in the pockets of his red jacket. 

“Can you maybe go crawl back into whatever dump you and your nasty-ass teeth came from?” 

Kuroo’s grin only widens as you roll your eyes and walk past him seeming to be fearless, even shoving your shoulder against his in the process as Kuroo goes to call out to you to enforce the leave of that creep immediately- 

“You bitch!” 

but red flooded his vision as soon as a hand was lain on your bare shoulder, spinning you around roughly as an audible squeak of fear and surprise slips your lips, reeling his arm back- 

And then Kuroo’s feet were really moving. 

Kuroo shoved the guy off you with a snarl on his features, eyes spinning dangerously as your boyfriend delivers a sharp knee to his stomach, sending your attacker to the ground in less than a minute. The smile that spread on Kuroo’s lips was anything but kind as he lifted the now fearful man up a few inches by the shirt, mock-kindness in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, care to repeat that for me again?” The polite words held such a menacing edge as Kuroo grit his teeth, feeling you place a hand on his back soothingly. 

“Kuroo, let’s go.” 

“No. Someone’s gotta teach this prick what happens when people lay their hands on my girl.” Kuroo lets go of his shirt, grinning when he hits his head on the street before lifting him back up again, ignoring his groan of pain. “And that someone’s gonna be me.” 

“Tetsurou.” 

Kuroo groans at your strict tone as if you had interrupted his playtime, fist unclenching around the stranger’s shirt as he makes a hasty escape, tripping himself over in the process before dashing away. 

“Look at me listening to you, princess.” 

Kuroo’s eyes held a pissed-off edge to them as he takes a strand of your hair, running his fingers through it before kissing the strand with closed eyes. Your mouth goes dry when his cat-like eyes open again, staring at you as if you were his favorite posession before cupping your face, leaning closer with a grin that wasn’t happy. 

“Just how tight do you have me wrapped around your little finger?” 

You clear your throat, shifting in place as the moon seems to illuminate Kuroo’s stare, feeling his eyes bore into you as the strand slips from his fingers, his breath beginning to mix with your own.

“Tight enough, apparently.” 

“Just... come cuddle and watch anime with me?” 

“Yeah, we’ll have our appointment, whatever- but kiss me first.” 

And so he did, anger fading away in the movement of his lips against yours, draining away completely when he feels your smile against his.  

Even if it wasn’t an appointment. 

Bokuto

“Bo, I’ll be fine, I promise!” 

“Do you pinky promise?” 

“I- there’s like a 7% chance something will happen to me in the five minutes you’re gone.” 

“That’s 6.9% too much.” 

“Bo, I’m hungry.” You whine, grinning as you win the argument that was hardly an argument, seeing Bokuto’s eyes widen a little in worry before puffing his cheeks out, spinning on his heel in the direction of your desired food stand. 

“You win this one!” 

“I usually do!” You call back, shaking your head at Bokuto’s protective tendencies. A rare off day the two of your shared had wound the two of you at the mall, a day’s worth of shopping sitting at your feet as your golden-eyed boyfriend bought you lunch from the food court. You hummed, scrolling on your phone as you patiently waited until the sound of someone clearing their throat caused you to lift your head. 

Well, looks like you’re going to need to recalculate that percentage. 

“Someone as pretty as you should never be sitting alone in a place like this, hm?” 

“I’m not alone, though!” You chirp fakely, unknowingly causing the boy to press on, taking the seat that was reserved for your spiker boyfriend as you blanch. 

“Nice excuse, sweetheart- but that won’t work on me.” 

You clench your jaw, praying Bokuto wouldn’t return just yet and throw a fit you knew he was bound to throw as you offer a strained smile at the smirking boy. 

“I’m actually waiting for somebody-” 

“I don’t see them, though?” 

Bokuto stills, hands tightening around the tray holding your food subconciously at the scene before him, scenarios drifting through his head on what approach would make you the least mad at him. Cursing him out? Perhaps spiking the lunch tray at his head? That is, until- 

“Do you not understand what waiting means, or does nothing occupy that space between your ears?” 

“Feisty.” 

“Grow the hell up.” You plaster a smile as you flick him off, crossing one leg over the other for effect, causing your pursuer to rise to his feet in a now ticked-off manner as Bokuto grins, eyebrows raising in surprise. 

The grin fades as the asshole uses his thumb and forefinger to pinch your cheeks together harshly, the uncomfort apparent on your expression as you glare heatedly up at him, a crowd beginning to form. 

“Pretty girl with a dirty mouth, huh? That can be arranged-” 

A tap on the shoulder. 

“Do you know what else can be arranged?” 

“Who the hell-” 

He never gets to finish his sentence as Bokuto grabs him by the shoulder, ripping him off you and reeling his own arm back before delivering a punch so hard to the guy’s jaw you swear you could hear a few cracks. The crowd was definitely beginning to get bigger as Bokuto pays no mind, cracking his knuckles as the guy who put his hands on you looks up into the golden eyes of a pissed-off ace, the grin on Bokuto’s face borderline deadly as gold begins to darken. 

“Who am I?” A humorless chuckle that could have been almost considered kind. Bokuto tilts his head innocently as he ignores the bruising on his knuckles, leaning down to ask an equally innocent question. 

“Take a fucking guess.” 

You gasp at the headbutt delivered next, causing your pursuer to groan and fall backwards, Bokuto unfazed before realizing you were now holding him back before grabbing your hand, collecting your bags and your food in a hurry as he tugs you along, ignoring the flash of the cameras and gasps of the crowd. You have to hold him back from turning around for more in your effort to leave. 

“Just one more punch-” 

“Trust me, that was plenty.” 

It isn’t until you reach the parking lot when Bokuto finally stops, holding your hand so tightly it almost feels icy numb, not knowing what to say as his golden eyes turn to you, as if he was trying to hold his anger back. You hear him drop all the bags he’s holding as you hug him quickly, burying your face in his chest as the ace immediately relaxes. 

“God, stop being so pretty.” He finally mumbles into your hair, and you let out a laugh of relief as he calms down. 

“Right. So maybe not 7%-” 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes, Bo?” 

“Never leave my sight, please?” Your heartstrings tug at the crack in his voice, now determined to prevent his emo mode on your day off. 

“That’s a lot to promise.” You find yourself whispering back, pulling back a little to cup his face gently as Bokuto’s forehead touches yours. “But I’m so thankful you showed up when you did. You know what I can promise, though?” 

You smile at Bokuto’s head tilt, feeling the ace impatiently trace his lips along your neck as you giggle, feeling the atmosphere lighten as Bokuto pouts when you pull back with a question- 

“Car sex?” 

Bokuto’s pout is replaced with an excited grin, for this boy worships your body 10000%. 

“I thought you’d never ask, baby! Get in for the ride of your life!!” 

“Just because I feel bad for your bruised knuckles- I’ll let that pun slide.” 

Bokuto smirks as he kisses your forehead, winking at you through the window after closing the car door for you as the day’s events already begin to fade- 

being replaced with something much more important. 

Kageyama 

“...you sure you’re okay?” 

“Of course I’m okay! Why wouldn’t I be? I’m dandy.” Kageyama snaps, causing Hinata to back off with both arms raised in the air as a sign of meaning no harm. The blue-eyed boy grits his teeth from his spot on the sidelines of the court, pissed that the game was starting and he had no way of defending you from the creep sitting by you in the stands. 

Kageyama relaxes a little when he sees you switch seats with an offering Kenma, thankful for his fellow setter for once as his blue eyes meet your bright ones. 

The tension in his face and body drains at your smile, mouthing an I’m okay, do your best! as Kageyama returns his focus to the match just as it starts. Knowing he can’t lose concentration, especially when you’re watching, is hard- considering you were wearing his jersey number and the shortest skirt he had ever seen on you- a promise for something special you had mentioned if he won today’s match. 

He had a little bit of a clue what that could be. 

The match went smoothly with your genius-setter boyfriend playing at his top-game for a reason no one would ever pinpoint as you can’t help but giggle from the secret behind his determination today. 

What you were wearing was for him, but a certain someone didn’t seem to understand that. 

Kenma cast you a worried glance as he raises from his seat as he looks amongst the filled seats, trying to find one for you to sit in as he has to go start to warm up. 

“Y/N-san, what if you go to the other side?” 

“I’ll be fine, Kenma!” You assure him, ignoring the smirk of the guy who had previously started to talk you up. “I’ll probably go stand at the railing.” 

“Mm. That’s probably best- stay safe.” Kenma nods, sparing a warning glance to the scum next to him as if to enunciate his point before taking his leave as you walk up to the railing that was mostly unoccupied. You cheer for Kageyama as he scores quick after quick, thinking you were now in a safe manner. 

But you weren’t. 

Kageyama tilts his bottle upside down to drink down the liquid as soon as the match’s victors are declared Karasuno, the raven-haired boy wiping his mouth as he scans the crowds for you and your expected cheering form for his win, but what he saw had the setter moving quickly despite the ache in his legs. His teammates look on in worry before realizing the situation from a distance. 

“Please leave me alone, sir, I came for one of the players today-” 

“Why have one of these boys when you can have a real man?” 

Kageyama jogs into hearing distance- stopping at the rare, cold edge your tone took on before starting again. 

“Did you not hear what the hell I said, or are you hard of hearing you old geezer?” You keep your smile on, failing to notice the familiar raven-haired boy beginning to deadass climb the railing. “And real men leave girls alone when they ask.” 

“Come on, play nice~” 

You barely have time to flinch when his hand goes up your skirt, and it’s suddenly gone as soon as it does. 

Kageyama was surprisingly calm as he pins the man to the railing, blue eyes spinning with an emotion you had hardly seen before as he holds both hands behind the guy’s back, using his other hand to bow his head down to the ground. 

“Just where the hell do you think you’re touching?” Kageyama seethes as you smile at his sweaty appearance, seeing the man struggle as the rest of the Karasuno team jogs up to the stands as a commotion begins to break out, Suga asking if you’re okay as Daichi and Asahi both take the pervert from Kageyama before the setter can do something rash- 

“Oh, before you take him-” 

You flinch when Kageyama reels his fist back to clock him right in the nose, gasps filling the stands as Kageyama wipes the blood off his knuckles with the end of his jersey, whistling lowly at the cuts on his fist. 

“Alright. You can take him now.” 

Kageyama ignores the scold of his captain as he grabs you by the forearm, tugging you away as you wave a hasty goodbye to Suga as you follow him all the way into the empty hall, spinning you around so he can hold your wrists together with one hand.

“I’m really, really pissed.” Kageyama whispers, blue eyes hardened as you swallow when your back touches the wall, your eyes darting everywhere but on him. “Do you mind?” 

“D-Do I mind what?” You stutter when the setter’s lips touch your neck, sending chills down your spine when he speaks against it, his own hand sliding up your thigh. 

“Use my anger in the little reward you promised me?” 

You laugh out loud, taking a handful of his raven hair before tugging it back with a smile on your features, kissing him sweetly with other intentions. 

“Get me alone first, dummy. Good job on winning!” 

“And-” Kageyama’s voice drops an octave, uncaring of anyone entering the hall as his other hand slides up under his jersey that was adorning your body. 

“I want to cover anything that bastard might have left on you.” 

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

General works: @takemetovalhalla @savemesteeb @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @yams046

[brookstolemybrand]

My current silly theory (which I don't actually think it accurate but that I find amusing) is that the One Piece is the hat

Assuming that Big Frozen Hat belonged to Joyboy (assuming he was a giant) what if he and someone dear to him had matching hats and maybe he lost that person so that person's hat became his treasure

The government probably captured him? Or something? And got his hat but not the other hat

The other hat ended up getting passed down from person to person for centuries until it landed in Roger's hands and he in turn handed it to Shanks

Roger goes to the Last Island (at the time unnamed) and finds out that the treasure he was looking for was not only something he already had but they literally left it behind (along with Shanks) right before reaching their destination

And if so, I would predict that before finally taking course to Laugh Tale, Luffy would stop by Wano to pick up Yamato (because he BETTER to pick up Yamato) and while there would meet with Tama, refuse to take her on board, but tell her to look after his hat

Just to repeat the joke

The reason why I think this would fit is because the entire East Blue saga is basically all about how real treasure isn't money or jewels but the things that you find personally important. And so it would make no sense for One Piece to be any different. But then why would the reader or Luffy care about someone else's treasure? Sure the story behind it would probably be really beautiful and meaningful, but is that really a satisfying end to a decades long story?

Unless that treasure just happened to also be something we and Luffy already cared about

And yeah, obviously it's still kind of a cop out, but I could see it making narrative sense. The treasure was there all along but we didn't know the full story

The reason why I think this is bullshit is actually mainly that I don't think Roger would have told people to go look for the hat because he already gave it to Shanks. I mean I guess unless he had a similar deal with Shanks as Shanks had with Luffy, that it was something Shanks was supposed to return to him once he became a great pirate of his own (which would probably also explain Shanks feeling demoralised about his plans after Roger's death: knowing he would not be able to give Roger back the hat anymore even if he did find Laugh Tale on his own) but still it just seems a bit weird to me

Also what did he mean by 「この世の全てをそこにおいてきた」

"I left everything in the world there"?

Altho I 100% think that that line is gonna turn out to be a joke of some kind, that bastard was having way too much fun

My second theory which I actually think might be accurate is that Luffy's dream is to throw the biggest party in history

Roger shared the same dream and both of them definitely seemed to think it was something they would need a lot of money for because they're both after a great treasure

Throwing a huge party would be expensive! And we know Luffy always pays for food in one way or another (or leaves an "iou treasure"). This is the one thing we explicitly see Luffy say he's gonna use his treasure for: paying for food. Luffy clearly values food and people who give him food

The only things Luffy values more than food are adventure and friendship, so the dream has to do with those three things I think, and adventure is already technically accounted for because the adventure is the treasure hunt. So what do you get when combine food and friendship? You get a party.

We also know that there HAS to be a big banquet at the end of the series, that's just the obvious conclusion from the way pretty much every saga ends. It would make sense for that to be Luffy's dream

Also solving the "I don't want to be a hero because heroes share their food" problem with "make sure everybody has enough food so I don't have to share" sounds very much like Luffy logic, but I really think the party aspect is crucial here

Of course the problem here is, if we need to have a big expensive banquet at the end of the story, wouldn't the One Piece HAVE to be something monetarily valuable?

But then again, if it had been, why didn't Roger do it? He still had a little bit of time left, why didn't he fulfill his dream?

And I think the solution for Luffy will just be that at that point he has managed to help so many people (and probably freed the world from the Celestial Dragons idk) that they'll all just throw a giant banquet for him

Look idk, I just can't help but keep thinking about these things

Even though I don't even really want to have any guesses or expectations ahead of time (too late now rip)

I kinda hate theorising about the end of One Piece because I don't actually want to have any idea about what it might be ahead of time

But at the same time I can't resist the urge to try to figure it out

Or to watch theory videos (now that I finally can because I'm finally caught up)

[joaquinwhorres]

Stitches & Blankets (Joaquin Torres x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› You find Joaquin Torres after he tries to stop the bank robbery.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,000-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› OK, why are there not more Torres fics? I'm legitimately confused about that. Also, I realized after writing half of this down, that a bank was robbed, so there were probably still police on the scene and the reader'd probably be speaking Swiss-German but uh...fan fiction.

There was a body in the street, which was not what you expected to see coming out to your car.

You'd heard the wailing sirens and shouting and the thunderous footsteps--they're what kept you pressed against the side of the building for the past ten minutes, avoiding the chaos as much as possible. It wasn't fear that kept you there though, it was experience. You'd become used to the quick riots and little skirmishes for resources over the past few months. You knew it was better to stay out of the way, wait out the storm, and then go about your life. They became nothing more than minor nuisances. Bits of unrest that were there and then gone in the next instance. They weren't supposed to leave a body behind.

"Meine Fresse," you murmured, racing forward to the person lying supine on the stones, arms out to their sides, the white of their sneakers reflecting the street lights. As you drew closer, you saw it was a man--about your age with blood around his eye and nose and lip. For a brief second, you wondered if he'd been trampled, but he definitely would have looked worse for wear based on how many people you'd heard.

"Bist du okay?" Your voice was loud as you checked over the rest of his body. He didn't seem to have any other injury, and there wasn't any blood under his head, so you decided it was safe enough to gently shake him.

He didn't rouse.

So, instead you knelt your ear down to his lips, laying your hand flat on his chest. You felt your hand rise before you heard the slow intake of breath, and you rocked back onto your knees. He was breathing. He was alive.

Still, something gnawed at the back of your mind, urging your fingers up under his jaw, gently pressing into his neck. It was only then that you felt a surge of relief. His pulse was there, and it was strong. He was really alive.

And then you remembered that you should probably call 112.

All things considered, it was a quick phone call--the operator seemed to know your exact location and vaguely what had happened as you explained where you were and how you found him. Instead, most of the conversation was spent listening to their instructions to roll him into a recovery position and check for any signs of life-threatening injuries. When they told you that you could hang up because they were close, you did so and found the man blinking at you.

"Hoi," you greeted soothingly. "Wie heisst du?"

He groaned, attempting to roll onto his back once more. You reached out a hand stopping him, and he looked up at you confused.

"Comment t'appelles tu?" You attempted, hoping he wasn't an Italian or Romansch speaker. You hardly knew enough of either language to tell him you couldn't speak it.

He winced and lifted his hand to his face. "Shit."

English. Good.

"What's your name?" you asked, and his eyes seemed to focus on you once more, this time a spark of recognition or maybe just awareness lighting up behind them.

"Joaquin," he informed, and you released an arm, allowing him to finally roll onto his back like he wanted. He had a strong American accent, even through the gravelly voice of barely regained consciousness. "Did they get away?"

"Ähm," you looked around at the empty street. "Yes?" you guessed.

He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm gonna have to call some people."

"I think you should wait for the ambulance."

"Yeah," he agreed, the word breathy and pained. "That's probably a good idea."

"What happened?" you asked, and he raised his eyebrows, looking back at you.

"Flag Smashers."

"I didn't think the Flag Smashers hurt people."

"I'm just lucky, I guess," he answered, and you smiled, letting out a small laugh. He offered a small smile as well.

You could hear the siren now, the faint sound winding its way through the curving streets of Zürich and towards the two of you. Your head turned towards the sound, as if you could trace it back to the ambulance, and gauging the distance. "They should be close," you said, returning your attention to Joaquin.

"What's your name?" he asked, and the question surprised you. Then again, if the two of you were stuck waiting for an ambulance at nine o'clock on a Sunday night, maybe a bit of small talk shouldn't have been so surprising.

"Y/N," you answered, and he repeated it.

"You're very pretty, Y/N."

The laugh escaped you on instinct, although to call it a laugh might not be the best descriptor. It was more of a surprised noise, partially exhale and a tinge of amusement added through the slight smile at the corner of your mouth.

"Thank you," you said. "You are very pretty too."

And he was, underneath the dark red and rapidly purpling injuries. He had a strong jaw and kind eyes, and even the hint of a smile he'd given earlier had made something in your chest constrict.

"I don't feel so pretty," he responded, and this time your laugh was more of a laugh, and he reached up to feel at his face. You took hold of his hand, bringing it back down and trapping it in yours.

"Pretty enough for me to hold your hand," you joked, hoping to distract him from continuing to poke and prod and break all of the rules and instructions the EMTs had given over the phone.

"Well, I got that goin' for me, I guess," he said, letting his hand relax into yours.

Headlights bathed you in a warm yellow light as flashing blue lights bounced off the surrounding buildings, illuminating the rest of the street.

There were some shouts as the doors of the ambulance opened and people poured out, running towards you and Torres. The paramedic crowded around quickly, a blonde bearded man asking  quick questions in German.

"Er spricht Englisch," you explained, and he nodded, switching languages.

It became apparent as police officers pulled up and flooded out of their cars that you were no longer needed. You stood up, backing away and letting Joaquin's hand slip through yours.

"You're not going to stay and hold my hand?" Joaquin called out to you, and you let a smile curl across your lips. Around you, people were starting to come out onto the street, lured by the sounds of the sirens and lack of shouting and general ruckus. Your eyes fell back on Joaquin who was still looking up at you, even as a paramedic flashed a light into his face.

"Maybe he can hold your hand," you said, gesturing to a paramedic who had slid into your place. Joaquin gave half a smile as you turned and left him in the hands of the professionals.

As you rounded the corner, arms full of blankets, the last person you expected to almost run into was Joaquin.

Part of the surprise was the kind that generally accompanied running into someone outside of the context you know them in. A larger part of the surprise was the fact that he was not in the hospital.

Instead, he stood before you, face swollen, bloodied and bruised, with the small white bandages of butterfly stitches above his right eye. He blinked at you, as if he was caught in the headlights.

"Pretty Joaquin," you said, surprise ringing through every part of your voice.

"Y/N."

At least his memory wasn't affected by whatever the Flag Smashers had done to him. His response time was also quicker than it had been two and a half hours ago, and he seemed all in all more present and less hazy. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here." Your own surprise and mild confusion had not quite worn off. "What are you doing here?"

For a variety of reasons, he was not the typical person who stumbled into the Zürich GRC Refugee Camp. He was both too young and too old and far more put together than a normal incomer. He didn't have that haunted look behind his eyes that made your heart wrench. He looked battered and bruised but ok.

"I need a place to stay."

Your eyes ran over his form, from his fluffy dark hair and banged up face to his bright white trainers. You lifted an eyebrow. "The hospital wouldn't take you?"

He shook his head with a sheepish grin. "It's just a broken orbital. Not much else they can do for it." Your eyebrows didn't lower and he gave half a laugh. "Trust me I'm as shocked as you are."

"I'll need you to fill out some paperwork."

He winced. "Any way that could wait until tomorrow? My head is killing me."

You stared intently at his face. Over the past four months of working at the GRC camp, you'd gotten good at reading people. You had an eye for knowing who was going to be trouble down the line and who would need some extra comfort and care. You knew who to push about their stories, and who to wait for--to be there as they slowly unraveled their tale.

So while there was a lot about pretty boy Joaquin that just didn't add up, you could see in his eyes that he could be trusted to stay the night. Just not here.

"You can't stay here without going through intake," you shook your head. "But if you really need a place to sleep, you can come with me."

"Really?" Joaquin asked, turning to follow you as you set back off towards your car, and you nodded.

"It's nothing special--just my couch. But I've been told it's very comfy."

Joaquin faltered a step, slowing down. "You're sure you want me coming and bloody-ing up your couch? I could just stay here and leave before--"

"I'll put down some papers," you said jokingly in an attempt to cut off the subject of him staying at the camp.

"Ok," he said, his voice distracted before there was a quick shuffle of footsteps and he caught back up with you. "Ok, thanks."

The two of you arrived at your car shortly thereafter, Joaquin moving to sit in the passenger seat as you dumped the blankets in the car. You came around to slip into the driver's seat, quickly backing out of the spot and setting off back home.

"So what's with all the blankets?" he asked, pulling his attention from the streets and buildings and back to you.

"We got a late donation tonight," you answered, flicking on your turn signal. "They needed someone here to help organize the drop off and then our washing machine broke, so I have to take work home with me." You smiled at the joke, but he just nodded, leaving you to wonder if maybe your English was off. The next few moments passed in quiet before you checked over at a traffic light to see if he was still awake. He was, but he looked dazed. Maybe he had been telling the truth about his head. You eyed his injuries which looked even worse in the red light. Like his entire right side of his face had been smashed.

"So what brought you to Switzerland?"

It wasn't the question you wanted to ask. You wanted to ask him what had happened with the Flag Smashers--why had they beaten him up so badly. But you weren't sure you were ready for that answer or if he'd even give it. So you asked a question you didn't care if he lied to you about.

"I was looking for someone," he said, and the light turned green, causing you to turn away and focus on your driving rather than him. Still the sentence seemed to end earlier than his thought as you could feel the weight of more words hovering between you. It was a familiar pressure in your ears and your chest, and you'd long grown accustomed to the discomfort.

Like many, Joaquin didn't give the thought words to escape on.

"A refugee?" you asked, and he wobbled his head.

"Yes and no. She survived the Snap."

"She?" A small feeling like a tight wire cord wound its way around your chest and a  warmth of embarrassment flooded the back of your neck. "Your sister? Your wife?"

"No," he shook his head. "My grandmother."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him look at you for the first time.

"What's her name?  If she came to the camp I should know her."

"Mariana Torres," he answered, and you ran through the array of faces you'd met. There was a Mariana Böschl , but she was old enough to be his mother, not his grandmother.

You shook your head slowly. "I can check the registry tomorrow, but I don't think she's with us."

"Thanks," Joaquin said, looking back out the window at the passing city. "Were you Blipped?"

"No," you shook your head, pulling into your designated parking spot by your apartment. "I was lucky." The two of you climbed out of the car, and he met you by the trunk, pulling the blankets out before you could reach for them.

"Thank you," you said.  And he gave a small grin.

"Thanks for letting me stay with you."

You gestured with your head up the stairs, heading to your third floor apartment.

Joaquin trailed behind you, arms laden with the blankets, waiting patiently as you stopped and opened the door. "Welcome to my home," you greeted, allowing him to enter before you. Your small apartment was dark, and you flicked on the light so that Joaquin could walk further inside without running into a wall or your table. "You can put the blankets by the couch, I'll wash them tomorrow," you instructed, and he did as you suggested before wandering over to the couch.

"I think I have an extra pillow in the closet," you said.

"Great," he thanked, dropping down onto the couch.

It took a few minutes to find the pillow and put a pillowcase on top of it. By the time you walked back out to the living room, the light was still on, and so were his shoes, but he was passed out. You walked over to the sleeping boy, placing the pillow down next to the couch in case he woke up and pulling the blanket over his body, your eyes once more tracing over his injuries.

You would have to speak to Karli about the violence.