#i felt like shit when v would lash out a little at people they love in some conversations but also. thats so realistic??? i love it.

[prismbearer]

Not around bc I finally started a C/2077 playthrough where it caught my attention.

[charnelhouse]

Okay last one (maybe) I just like just now thought of it but soaps favorite picture he’s took of all of them was (tastefully) after they had sex (TASTEFULLY). it was the next morning like early in the morning. So early the sun was just starting to rise. He woke up before both of them surprisingly because ghost is usually up before the sun but he was snoozing away with those loud ass snores.

The picture was accidental, he was trying to turn his phone on to see what time it was but he accidentally pull up the camera instead. The picture is of him with his face scrunched up in the corner but in the back ground you can see red and ghost asleep. Both of them are naked but wiggled deep under the covers. Red was facing soap with her arm thrown over her side and her face buried into the his pillow and ghost was asleep facing the wall because he tends to run on the hot side and doesn’t cuddle because he gets too hot 9 out of the 10 times they all sleep together. The sun made it seem like the two of them was glowing in the soft light and their hair was so messy.

The night before ghost surprisingly was the bottom, something that’s actually n e v e r happened before. Something happened during a mission that neither red or soap knows about but you can tell it was tearing him up inside so badly to the point he was more silent than normal. He wasn’t eating or sleeping at all and it was worrying them because shit doesn’t usually bother him. When they finally get him to open up it was when he snapped at them for “babying” him (which he thinks almost any form of affection is babying someone) and he accidentally lets out that during the missions they were on there was a dead family of civilians he saw that looked JUST like soap and red just with different hair color/ cuts and what not and for some reason it just really really got to him so badly. Seeing those bodies he couldn’t stop picturing it being soap and red and it scared him so much he was trying to distant himself from them.

Seeing tears slip from ghosts eyes made them feel so shocked. It caused soap to freeze up but red immediately came to his side trying to wipe his tear which causes him to lash out again but red clearly doesn’t care. Soap ends up coming to him as well to stop him from thrashing in their hold to help calm him down. Red would take all of ghost gear off to help him breathe a bit better since a choked out sobs keeps leaving him. She can’t promise him nothing won’t happen to her or soap and she knows he knows that which is causing him so much distress. Red knows that ghost has really bad separation anxiety that might not show physically but does effect him mentally which will cause little meltdowns like this. He’s human, he’s normal, what does people expect? He’s a man who’s been through so much and never gotten help and probably never will cause he was raised like that.

The soft kisses red and soap press on him help him relax some and one thing comes to another and they are all undressing each other. The night before the picture was night that everything was for Simon.. not ghost but Simon Riley; the man under the monster persona he puts to keep himself safe. He’s a broken man and honestly soap would have never guess it until red and ghost let him into their relationship. Simon felt almost overwhelmed by how all the attention was on him. All he had to do was just lay on his back in the soft colorful covers and let the two of them take care of him like how he does to them. Soft “I love you’s” and words of encouragement was whispered all night to each other as they all just cling to each other.

After all of it Simon was so exhausted both emotionally and physically and he was the first one out. They tried to feed him something but he wouldn’t stay awake he just kept falling asleep. He was so warm and everything was so soft it felt like he was floating. Soap and red whispered throughout the night talking about Simon. They talked about how they loved him but was so worried about him. That they wished he would open up more or get help but that’s his choice and they will support him no matter what.

In the picture they all look liked a hot mess. They cleaned each other the night before but they all sleep so wild that their hair was in each other’s mouths, their limbs was tangled, and different body parts are hanging off the bed. They’ve been meaning to get a bigger bed cause red and ghost sleeping in it was already almost too small and now having soap in it they are all basically asleep on top of each other. Soap had drool on the side of his mouth, reds mouth is wide open, and ghosts Peepee is out in the open from him trying to kick the covers off in his sleep. The photo is so blurry but it makes him laugh every time he stumbles on it.

omg so much angst and sweetness! i love it!

[juletheghoul]

Oblivius Chapter 7

This is a CHONKY BOI. THE BACHELOR 'PARTY' IS HERE PEOPLE.

This is by far my longest chapter and I had most of it written before I even posted the second chapter of this story. Makes me SOOO happy how pumped all of you are to read this, it has taken over my life. Keep messaging! Keep sending me asks! 💖

Would love to do little drabbles, memories - anything to do with these two (except spoilers of course)

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: TW: INFIDELITY 👀 Angst, yearning, kissing, **18+ [no minors] SMUT** p in v (sex wrap it up) Oral, F & M receiving, language (Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Prev Part Playlist

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

Age 28:

“I just love her, I love her so much and there’s nothing I can do.” He was drunk and in a bad way.

“I know Fish, it’s tough from here but maybe when you get back you can talk to her.” He knew Pope was trying to make him feel better, but when he’d spoken to his mom earlier in the week and he’d heard that she was seeing someone- it had broken his heart.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting - she’d never promised anything but he had this hope that she’d wait for him. That she’d be there to greet him with the love he’d always craved from her.

“She’s with someone else, I just want her to want me.” If he kept going down this road he was going to cry. He couldn’t cry here. Not in this bar and not when it was crawling with other soldiers.

“I think you should just talk to her when you get home, Fish - things might change when you see her again. Or do the grown up thing, and move on.” He looked at him, regret and heartbreak on his face.

“There’s no one like her.” He said it more to himself than Pope but he heard it all the same.

There was a pretty girl walking over to him now, a shy smile on her face.

“Hi - I’m Claudia - can I buy you a drink?” She wasn’t Spills, but she was very pretty.

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

**Present Day**

The week leading up to the wedding was a blur. It simultaneously flew and crawled by. Schrodinger's week.

The dinner was coming up and with it a curious feeling was settling itself in your stomach. A strange mixture of desperation and acceptance. The acceptance told you that if Francis wanted to get married then you should keep your mouth shut and let him get on with his life.

The desperate, possessive part of you reminded you that he was your perfect match, that you shouldn’t let Claudia have him when he so obviously belonged to you. How would you accomplish that though? How could that be done without him hating you for ruining his wedding?

When you were sitting in the restaurant surrounded by the wedding party both those thoughts plagued you. They kept you quiet and pensive, present, but secluded within your own mind as they fought for dominance.

Benny sat next to you like always and you got the sense he was gearing up to make a move and you didn’t exactly know how to feel about it. Your mind was battling over that too.

Do I go out with him and try to get over Francis? Or do I turn him away, and keep pining over a soon to be married man? Choices.

Claudia was almost trembling with excitement, everything she said, everything she did was grating. It all irritated you and you felt the need to dampen her spirits. A malicious little part of you wanted to bring her down a peg. Maybe it was her attitude at the Bridal store. Maybe it was just plain old mean-spirited jealousy. With the dinner almost up, with the bachelor party still to come you couldn’t help it.

It was like a compulsion. The words crawled up your throat and the possessive, angry part of you had to spit them out.

“Oh my God Francis, remember our pact?” Your face was a mask of innocence - just reminiscing with an old friend.

Frankie’s expression changed then, from the same tentative joy he’d been wearing all night to something forced and fake.

“Barely.” His eyes were boring into you, the intensity seemed to be demanding you to shut up about it. While everyone else was still relaxed and unaware of the land mine you’d stepped on, you saw the look Pope was giving you, he knew.

“What pact?” Claudia asked with a breezy laugh.

“It’s silly really-” Frankie cut you off.

“It’s nothing, just bullshit we talked about when we were kids.” He tried to smooth it over with her but she didn’t like that. She sensed his hesitation and when Pope tried to engage them in conversation she challenged him.

“If it’s nothing, then Spills can tell me.” It was said with a bitter sweetness, she had seen through his avoidance and she wasn’t interested.

“Well, when we were in our early twenties - Francis and I decided to make a marriage pact.” You were smiling as though it was nothing and Claudia laughed along with you but you heard the edge in it. She wasn’t amused, and neither was Frankie.

“See honey? It was dumb. Just something dumb kids do when they don’t know any better.” He pulled her close but you could see the stiffness in the way she held herself. You didn’t expect his words to hurt you like that, and all of a sudden you regretted bringing it up.

What seemed like a good way to rile Frankie up was just a cruel little jab at a relationship that you didn’t belong in. A relationship that would go on despite you; in spite of you. You got quiet after that and you saw that he couldn’t bear to look at you.

The battle in your mind was over, and acceptance had won.

You quietly excused yourself to grab some fresh air, the shame at your ploy to ruin Claudia's night sat in your gut and you felt horrible. This wasn’t how you were raised, despite your feelings about her or Francis it was cruel to do this to her on the night before her wedding.

Fuck, now he’ll leave with her for sure. What have I done?

“Hey - thought I’d find you out here. You okay?” Benny had come out looking for you and you smiled at him.

“I’m okay - just needed a minute away you know?” He sat beside you and you tried to focus on him. On his handsome face, how tall he was. If you’d met him a few years ago you would have been all over him.

“Yeah I get that.” He scooted closer to you, until your legs touched and smiled at you. “Look, I know you’re close to Fish, but I’d really like to take you out.” He blurted out the words and you couldn’t help but let out a surprised oh!

He was smiling and he took your hand in his, he was looking at you intently now, making his move.

He was closing in and for a moment you forgot about your shame, about everything except Benny’s mouth. The kiss was soft, tentative. He was testing the waters with you and it was nice. His hand came up and rested on your face softly. Feather light touches on your cheek with the very tips of his fingers.

Objectively speaking, it was a lovely kiss, but it did nothing for you and he felt it.

“I’m sorry.” You rested your forehead on his and he sighed, the air moving the hair framing your face slightly.

“Don’t be, it was worth a shot.” he smiled sadly and you kissed him on the cheek. You both had your answer. The door slammed, breaking you out of your moment with Benny and you saw the back of Francis’ head as he stalked back inside.

----

He wanted to get drunk. He wanted to punch Benny, he wanted to knock his teeth out. He wanted to walk out there, grab Spills by the back of the head and kiss her until she finally understood what she meant to him.

When they walked in together his guts twisted up with rage, it clawed its way up his throat and instead of lashing out he ordered three shots of liquor to burn it away. He drank them quickly, one after the other.

“You and me, outside. Now.” Pope was dragging him away and he wanted to fight but Claudia was asking him what was wrong and he didn’t have an answer for her. Not one she’d want to hear so he let Pope drag him outside. He could see Spills staring at him and he couldn’t look at her.

“What the fuck are you doing right now?” Pope spoke calmly, but his voice had an edge.

“Drinking. It’s my bachelor party, I’m supposed to get drunk aren’t I?” He was pacing, the rage making him restless.

“Why are you marrying Claudia?” Pope stared at him.

“What are you talking about?” The question stopped him in his tracks.

“Do you think that no one can see it? It’s painfully obvious that you’re nowhere near as in love with her as you should be. You’re hung up on Spills and she’s obviously hung up on you.” He was trying to speak calmly and Frankie was pissed off all over again.

“It doesn’t fucking matter how I feel about her - she’s out here with Benny and I’m getting married tomorrow.” He was spiraling.

How the fuck did I get here?

“She’s out here with Benny, because you’re supposed to be getting married tomorrow. If you want to continue with Claudia I’m not going to get in your way, but get your fucking shit together and control your emotions. Figure out what the fuck you want and remember that Benny isn’t your enemy.” He approached him and clapped his arms onto Frankies shoulders. “Fish, you have to figure out what you want here, make it work with Claudia or let her go - stop this living in between shit. It’s not fair to anyone.” Frankie shook out of his grip, too upset to see reason.

He knew he was wrong, he knew he had no right to react this way but it was too much for him. All the little moments he’d thought they’d shared - what had they meant?

What does it matter? You’re getting married, she isn’t.

He ignored her gaze when he approached their table, Claudia was approaching him.

“You okay babe?” She was approaching him with open arms and he embraced her. Eyes closed - trying to feel something other than anger. He focused on the smell of her hair, on the feeling of being buried into the crook of her neck. She sighed loudly and ran her fingers through his hair, soothing and smoothing it out. “It’s just pre-wedding jitters babe, tomorrow everything will be perfect and we’ll be married.” She was whispering into his ear and it was meant to be reassuring.

He felt nothing.

You’re not her. No matter what you do, you’ll never be her and I have to be okay with that.

“I’m okay babe - see you tomorrow.” He kissed her, really kissed her. Tried to muster up whatever he thought he felt for her before and she responded but it was useless. All he felt was anger; she pulled away smiling and said her goodbyes. He glanced at Spills and the look on her face made him feel ashamed.

“Let’s get fucked up.” He said it with a fake smile plastered on his face and everyone except Pope and Spills cheered.

---

His hostility was astounding. He barely looked at you the whole night and you had a feeling it had to do with Benny’s kiss. You had to talk to him about it, a part of you hoped he’d be jealous and realize that you belonged together but maybe that was all in your head. Maybe he didn’t like his friends dating you, or you dating them but that didn’t make sense. Why would that bother him?

You’re the one getting married to someone else here, you dick.

Will and Benny were keeping up with him but as the night wore on everyone came to the realization that tomorrow would be a very long day if they didn’t quit now but Frankie wanted to keep the party going. He wasn’t belligerent, but he was being more aggressive than you’d ever seen. He told the boys that he wanted to continue drinking when they all got back to his house and they agreed but when you all got there it was obvious that Benny and Will were down for the count.

“I’m going to get these two into bed, can you make sure he’s okay and that he doesn’t get too fucked up?” Pope was herding the brothers into the basement where they’d been staying. He gave you a curious look then, a narrowing of the eyes that screamed talk to him.

---

When you walked into his old bedroom he was sitting on his bed, bottle of alcohol to his lips and you’d had enough.

“Francis that’s enough, you’ve had too much and you’re going to be sick.” You were trying to take the bottle away from him but he was stronger than you and he was in a foul mood.

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to pull that shit and then baby me.” His tone was vicious and you pulled back.

“I’m not trying to baby you, you asshole- I'm trying to make sure you’re not hungover for your wedding tomorrow.” He scoffed loudly at your words. “You got something to say Francisco?” You were angry now, his attitude was pissing you off big time. Your question set him off and he unloaded onto you.

“Oh I got plenty to say.” He put the bottle down and towered over you. “You fucked up Spills, you knew how I felt about you this whole fucking time and YOU were the one who shut it down. Making this stupid pact so you would be guaranteed someone who was crazy about you while you went off and did whatever and whoever you wanted and then bring it up in front of everyone like it was a joke.” The anger was burning away the alcohol in his system and there was nothing but raw honesty left. “And now what, you’re going to date my friend? So is it anyone who shows you attention except me?”

The expression on his face was angry, but there was a raw hurt in his voice. An old wound that he was blaming you for opening up.

“I have loved you since I was fucking fourteen, and you never gave a shit. You used me and you kept me dangling on a string but guess what, I am not a last resort. I have found a woman who loves me and you’re going to have to live with that.” The words were knives to your heart because for the most part they were true.

You couldn’t stop the tears at his onslaught of painful truths but underneath the hurt his words caused, you were fucking angry.

“You want to tear into me because I’ve been a fucking idiot fine, have at it, but you do not get to shame me for having a moment with someone who likes me. You’re getting married! Am I supposed to stay celibate and alone for the rest of my life because you gave up on me? I was waiting at the airport to tell you that I love you. That I know I’ve wasted time and that I want you.”

“Gave up on you? Are you fucking kidding me right now? So when I call to see how everyone is doing and I find out that you’re seeing someone - I'm supposed to just know that you’ll figure it out? I have been putting off finding someone in hopes that you’ll finally see how devoted I’ve always been to you. I am so fucking pissed off at you and you want to know what the worst part of it is? The fact that I still fucking love you. Even though I’m hurt and so goddamn angry. Even though I have her and I know she’s head over heels for me, you’re the one in my head. I still love you and seeing you like this is breaking my fucking heart Spills. It should be you I’m marrying tomorrow. It should have always been you.” You could see the tears in his eyes now and that hurt even more.

Every single fibre of your being screamed at you to run to him, to wrap your arms around him. Instead you responded with your own truth.

“I wish it was me tomorrow. I know I couldn’t expect you to wait for me forever but I don’t want anyone else. Benny is sweet but he’s not you Francis.” You were well and truly crying now. Everything you’d been holding in came bubbling up, spilling out of you and there was nothing you could do to stop it, it had to come out.

“I should have kissed you back like I wanted to. I shouldn’t have been afraid, I should have seen it and dealt with my own feelings for you. I’m sorry Francis. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize how perfect we are for each other. I’m sorry I was too late and I’m terrified that you’ll leave me behind and marry her, and that I’ll be here waiting for you forever.” Your voice was cracking and high, barely a whisper at certain points with how hard you were crying.

His legs brought themselves to you in three long strides and then his mouth was on yours. Your tears mixing where your faces touched; pure adrenaline coursing through your veins when his hands buried themselves into your hair. It was nothing compared to the inexperienced albeit enthusiastic kiss you’d shared as teenagers. This was all-consuming. His mouth trapping your bottom lip roughly and biting softly to draw out a whimper. His tongue using the sound as the invitation to plunder the inside of your mouth.

He tasted like honey and alcohol, like the gum he chewed and tiramisu. He tasted like all the things you loved in this world and you never wanted him to stop kissing you.

He trailed his kisses down to the line of your jaw, the long column of your neck and up to the place beneath your ear and all you could do was frantically clutch at his hair.

“We’ve been so stupid Spills, driving me crazy.” He was whispering the words into your neck, his hands a vice grip around your waist.

“I’m sorry Francis, I love you - I love you so much.” The both of you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, fervent breathes as you kissed; both trying to make up for lost time. His wedding in a few hours was forgotten, his fiancé didn’t exist. It was just the two of you in his old bedroom where his first kiss had been denied.

You were rewriting that now.

His hands lowered and grabbed at the flesh of your ass roughly and you moaned into his mouth. He brought his kisses to your neck as he decisively pulled your dress up.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for half my life Spills, it was you I thought about while I was away. I would fuck my fist every single fucking night thinking about you letting me taste your pussy.” His eyes were dark with want and you gasped at his words, the alcohol and the honesty making him braver; the words were shooting directly into your cunt, making you weep for him.

“It’s always been you, look at what you do to me, what you’ve always fucking done to me.” He grabbed at your hand roughly and pressed into the sizeable bulge at his crotch. It was hard to form words. It was hard to articulate how you felt now that this was finally happening.

“Will you let me baby? Will you let me bury my tongue in your cunt? I want you to cum all over my face.” He was rubbing at your clit through your panties and it was like you were suspended in amber. Dumbstruck at his words, his confidence - his need for you.

“Yes Francisco, please.” You were gripping his hair frantically as he pushed you onto his bed. His big strong hands pulling your underwear down and tossing it over his shoulder. The same hands pulling your thighs apart to find your slick seeping out of you, all glossy and wet. He moaned at the sight.

“Look at that- so fucking pretty for me.” He made himself comfortable between your legs, grinding into the mattress as he studied your body. He kissed your thighs as he brought his face closer and closer to your clenching core. His facial hair tickling you as he trailed them up up up. You watched him propped up on your elbows, your hands automatically reaching out to run through his hair.

“Bet you taste so fucking good, like peaches.” He ran his finger along your seam, smearing your slick all over your lower lips. He was going too slow. You tried to move your cunt closer to his face but he smiled almost cruelly and held your hips down.

“My greedy girl.” He spread your lips apart and spit into your clit, you felt it sliding down towards your opening but he dove in cat-quick to lap it up before it went further.

His tongue was heaven. You threw your head back as he licked from your opening up towards your clit, over and over. “Eyes on me, I want you to watch me.” It was too much and you whimpered as he let the saliva drip from his mouth and into your clit. Focusing his tongue there, moving it up and down over and over and over. The wet glide of it too much and the string holding your sanity together was too tight, it would surely snap and let you float away soon.

He groaned onto your skin, his eyes steady on you as he slid two thick fingers inside you. Curling them in a way that had you tensing up. He could feel your thighs clenching as he scissored them inside you, stretching you open while his tongue pushed you over the edge. It was too much and when he wrapped his lips around your clit and gave it a long steady suck, you shattered.

He held you down and licked you through it. Lapping up the waves of arousal, drinking you down deep while his fingers pistoned in and out of you with a wet squelch.

You had to push him away.

“You taste so good honey, I wanna eat you for days, until you’re a wet little puddle in my bed.” He crawled up towards your limp body and kissed you roughly, his facial hair irritating your skin but it didn’t matter. Not when you could taste yourself in his mouth, not when he’d made you cum harder than anyone had any right to.

His hands were a blur as he tried to get his jeans down and you helped him. You could see your slick on his fingers, then his jeans and your hip where he held onto you. A little trail of you wherever he touched.

You frantically pulled both his jeans and his boxers down, his cock freed and bobbing between your thighs. You could see the sticky tip of him, angry and red with how hard he was and your mouth watered. You had to taste.

He was surprised when you flipped him over, the startled look on his face quickly replaced with a hungry smile. You took off his jeans and his boxes fully to lay between his legs. You rested your head on the strong muscle of his thigh as you lazily stroked him, the velvety skin of his cock encasing the iron beneath. He watched you with a look of rapture and his breath hitched when you pulled away to scoop some of your own slick from between your legs to make your strokes more fluid.

“You can’t possibly know how many times I’ve imagined this - fuck - give me your mouth baby, please.” He was thrusting up into your hand. You licked a wide stripe from the base of his dick up to the tip, circling it with your tongue. He groaned at the sight of you and he grabbed at the hair at the base of your skull to guide your movements.

You took the tip into your mouth and hollowed your cheeks prettily while he watched you, taking a bit more each time you lowered your head. You were ravenous for him, the soft sounds he was making, the control you had at this moment was intoxicating and it pushed you to take him further.

You took him as far as you could, swallowing around him as your nose brushed up against his curls and the tears leaked out when you let go to take a breath.

“Holy fuck baby, yes - look so fucking hot with my dick in your throat. Let me see you do it again.” He guided you down and you held there as long as you could before you sputtered and coughed, spit and his precum connecting your mouth to his cock.

“Fuck baby - so fucking good, if you do it again I’ll cum…” he left it up to you, taking his hand away from your hair and as tempted as you were to watch him come apart in your mouth your cunt was achingly empty and you needed him inside you.

“Next time you can cum in my mouth or on my face, wherever you want, right now I need you to fuck me.” You crawled up and he kissed you, he was frantic and he licked the spit off your lips and it was so primal you moaned. You found yourself on your back again and he was holding your thighs open while he rubbed his length through your folds.

“I’m going to cum inside you. I’m going to pump you full of me, fuck it into you. I wanna see it dripping out of you when I’m done.” He was lining himself up and when he slid in all the way, everything was right in the world. This was how it was supposed to be, the thick stretch of him was perfect, you were so fucking full - your cunt, your heart - every part of you.

“God baby, you’re so tight and wet - feels so fucking good.” He was speaking into your mouth and all you could do was wrap your arms and legs around him. Incoherent whimpers and sounds spilling out of your mouth with his movements. Sweat was beading on his brow, his fingers traced your hairline almost tenderly. His movements are equal parts filthy and loving.

His thrusts were hard and fast, not being able to control himself. You heard the wet, obscene sound of them and it made you wetter. You raised your legs higher, bracketing his ribs while he snapped his hips.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, love you - let me love you.” His words were curt and he wasn’t going to last long so you yanked the straps of your dress down. He leaned onto one arm, reaching down to rub perfect circles onto your clit while he took your nipple into his mouth. Your orgasm crashed into you out of nowhere and he groaned when he felt you clenching.

He brought his hand back up to grab at your hip roughly for more leverage while he fucked into you two, three - four more times before he was spilling into you.

He made good on his promise. He fucked his cum into you. A couple more shallow thrusts even though he was too sensitive and he watched himself do it.

“Look so fucking pretty like that, all puffy and full of my cum.” He watched as it slid out of you and down your ass onto the bedding.

Is this what I’ve been missing out on? Francisco Morales; sex god.

You were too blissed out to move but he went to work, taking off the rest of his clothes and then stripping you of yours. It was difficult to articulate how you felt in that moment, on the one hand this was everything you had wanted. The sex had been amazing, he didn’t just fill your body - he filled every single ounce of you. Your heart swelled when he tucked you into his side and covered the two of you with his blanket.

On the other hand, the postcoital bliss was wearing off and the implications of what had transpired was a weight growing in the pit of your stomach.

Your body and heart wanted to soar; a kite flying higher and higher. Your conscience was the string, and it was being shortened fast. He loved you, he still loved you even though he was engaged and he’d been thinking of you the whole time. You wanted to cry with happiness; with guilt as well.

The guilt was present, reminding you consistently that this man was supposed to be getting a good night’s rest for his wedding tomorrow. Instead the two of you were laying in bed, curled around each other. His spend slowly seeping out of you.

It was hard to focus on it though, especially when his skin was so warm under your cheek. When his hand rubbed at your arm and your legs were a tangle underneath the blanket. You couldn’t help but reach up and run your fingers through the hair matted on his forehead and he made it even harder when he captured the same hand and pressed kisses to your fingers. He broke the silence before you could though.

“I’m still pissed off at you.” He had a dreamy look on his face despite his words.

“I know. I’m pissed off at me too.” You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. The scent of his body-wash mixing with his own sweat. You couldn’t get enough and he curled himself into you as you ran your fingers through his hair. Your hands are constantly moving, touching every bit of each other you could.

“We’ve wasted so much fucking time Spills.” There was a deep sadness in his voice, it sliced into you because you knew he was right.

“I know Francis, I’m sorry it took me so long.” You were scratching at the wiry hairs on his cheek, trying to map out the face you loved so much. He sighed loudly. “What's going to happen tomorrow?”

“I don’t know - part of me thinks I should pack up the truck, throw you in the back and drive away. Another part of me wants to forget this whole thing happened and follow through on the commitment I made.” He wasn’t holding back with his words or feelings and although they hurt you couldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to do. You kept quiet, at the end of the day the decision was his. “I have to tell her the truth. I have to tell her that we did this, I cannot show up there tomorrow and pretend like I didn’t.”

You could see the guilt on his face now, the implications dawning on him a little later than they had for you. He scrubbed at his face with his hand and groaned.

“How can I just break her heart like this?” He was spiralling. “She doesn’t deserve this.” You felt like an intruder then, suddenly the closeness wasn’t there, he was pulling away from you emotionally if not yet physically.

“What do you want to do Francisco?” The use of his full name snapped him out of his train of thought and he looked at you then.

“What do you mean?” He looked at you in confusion, as you pulled away from him reluctantly.

“I know it took me way too long to get to this point, and you have every fucking right to hate me. If you tell me now that you want to make it work with her I’ll support your decision. I’ll keep my mouth shut and we can pretend this never happened. I would do that for you because I love you, and I will no matter what. You tell me what you want to do.” The tears were coming down your face as you said the words and as much as it hurt to get them out you meant them.

You couldn’t stay here - you wanted him to make his choice without influence and he said nothing as you quickly dressed and walked out of his room, instead you lay on the couch in the living room, crying softly to yourself. Sleep was nowhere in sight and in a few hours, you’d know for sure what would happen.

----

Tag list: @frannyzooey @foli-vora @danniburgh @sambucky21 @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @ezrasbirdie @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @softdindjxrin @wheresarizona @sherala007 @freak-nasty-thick-dick-mando @marydjarin @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @lori-tovar @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @greeneyedblondie44 @maxwell--lord @princessxkenobi @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @dihra-vesa @gaiuswrites @stevie75 @sweet-creature98 @readsalot73 @tobealostwanderer @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @goldielocks2004 @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @bellaorisa @hellovanessax @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @mrs-ghuleh @pedritoispunk @librariantothejedi @studythoreauly @missswriter @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80

[yesokaythatsfine69]

You Sexy Thing (Levi Ackerman x reader)

Description: Often Captain Levi is a little shit, and sometimes- he needs to be reminded about who's in control.

Character(s): Y/n, Levi

Pov: 2nd person, third person

Warning(s): SMUT!!! PORN WITHOUT PLOT- PEGGING, 18+

A/n: I keep seeing all this talk about pegging Levi Ackerman but I couldn't find anything to show- so in the words of Thanos, "I guess I'll do it myself"

Word Count:

*none of the Gifs used are mine, full credit goes to the maker :)

Your fists clenched, nails digging into the palms, on the verge of breaking skin. The yelps of your fellow squad members caused your teeth to grind. They had to have ran over four miles today- probably more- they had to do suicides double time, all of this shit and more were because the lovely supreme commander of heaven and hell, Squad leader Levi Ackerman had felt their cleaning of the stalls had been less than ideal.

Currently you were in the midst of doing push ups till he deemed fit. You glanced up at the captain, watching as his silver eyes roamed over the lot of you. Even as you seethed and raged- he was still the most gorgeous sight your eyes had ever laid upon. Levi's hair was raven black, in contrast to his light skin and silvery orbs. His hair was what caught you at first- the way it seemed to fall over his eyes just a bit.

It was long enough you could pull your fingers through- you were sure. You could only imagined how soft it must be. Levi facial features also caught you at a loss for words- they were quite dainty. Long black eye lashes, a soft line nose, and thin pink lips. God, was he pretty.

Your eyes moved from their spot, away from your Adonis and to the ground. No matter how pretty he was, he was still a bastard.

You mumbled incoherently to yourself, flexing your fists. The pain of doing another pushup finally getting to you. "Tch, I think you've all learned your lessons." You looked up again, knees dropping. The Devil himself spoke, lifting his hand and waving it in dismissal. "Go to the showers, you brats stink." Blowing a strand of hair from your eye, you rolled your shoulders back, taking Petra's outstretched hand as you bounded up.

No one spoke as they dispersed. You were itching for a shower, and you practically ran to get one.

You were dead tired, dead sleepy, and running on pure anger.

You watched the water flow into the drain near your feet, fixated on nothing but the boiling water as it hit you. Your anger had not evaporated-it simply grew. If he thought he could've done a better job, maybe he should have done it. You slammed the water off.

Or perhaps- and this was just a thought- he could let you get some real training in, instead of wasting your time and energy on being punished.

Punished.

Your eyes narrowed.

You stepped from the shower, one foot at a time.

Perhaps...the omnipotent captain Levi deserved a punishment of his own. Something that would...bring him down a peg.

You smiled, remembering a certain box hid underneath just for this type of reason.

"I think I might have just the thing."

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

Levi was just as sexy (if not more) than he was pretty. Something about him, oozed it. Maybe it was the way he walked, confident but not egotistical. They way spoke- his voice. His dry humor, his bleak expressions, his impeccable fighting skills and savagery...his taunt ass, or maybe it was the way his uniform hugged his body.

Your hands tugged at a box that laid deep beneath your bed. It scraped against the floor, finally sliding directly in front of you. You unhooked the latch, pulling out the important piece of equipment you'd need tonight.

You bit your tongue.

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

The truth was, you could spot a bottom from a mile away. It was also the people who needed control in their daily lives- people who needed everything perfect. At night they liked to take a break- to be controlled. Who were you to judge? You couldn't blame them, not hardly.

You knocked at his office door. It was late, barely a few minutes before lights out. For several seconds nothing happened, but you waited. Patience was a specialty.

"Come in." The tone was annoyed, and as you entered you could see why. He had stacks of papers before him, a signal candle lighting the room. Levi rubbed his temples, a sign that the dim lighting had an affect.

His eyes flickered up to met yours, "lieutenant Y/L/N?" The air was tense and goosebumps erupted across your forearms. "Captain Levi, I'm glad I caught you." His Expression remained unchanging. "Tch, yeah, I'm sure. What do you want, brat?"

You smiled, your hands intertwining from behind your back. "You to apologise." His entire body paused. Levi twitched his head to the side, a small movement. "Oh? So you're here to waste both are times then, y/l/n." You turned, locking his office door behind you.

Levi stood. "Oi, oi, oi, what do you think you're doing?" You turned back to face him. "The only person who wasted our time today was you." His eyes narrowed slightly. This was a side of you he hadn't been used to. Sure, he'd seen this intense focus on your face before, this same expression you wore when you sliced and diced titan after titan.

"Tch, what are you on about you stupid-" I'm flash you had his hair in your grip, dragging his head to you. "It's not nice to call people stupid, Levi." His eyes were wide, and his face was inches away from your own. "I can forgive that though, especially when you look so pretty like this."

His eyes sunk back, his shock leaving him. "Oi, I guess you've got me where you want me." You smiled, innocence twinkled in your irises. "Not yet I don't." Loosening your tight grip, you gently guided his head to close the gap between you two.

His eyes fluttered close upon impact, the tenseness he often carried with his resolve melting away with the warmth of your lips. You hummed, feeling the way he seemed to open up with your touch. Gently you scratched his scalp, pulling a sigh from his mouth.

When it opened you wasted no time slipping in your tongue. He tasted like tea, which wasn't suprising but was rather delightful. He let out a small groan as she gave his bottom lip a small bite, tugging softly. Her hands slipped underneath his shirt, dancing across his warm chest and abs. The feeling of what lied beneath was enticing and she pulled away eager to see it.

Levi groaned when you left him, an irritated, "y/n." Leaving his lips as his arms tried to find you, to bring you back to him. You escaped him though and worked to pull his shirt off.

When you had an object so important it was natural that worked as efficiently as possible to succeed. With that mindset you had him shirtless within seconds, Levi felt that had to be some type of record.

With his comfort in mind as soon as his shirt was off you folded it properly, working as efficiently as you had to take if off of him. When your eyes met his, they twinkled with something akin to admiration. You smiled and pulled him into a chaste kiss, his tongue moving to part your lips, but fire he could succeed you began moving.

You kissed his chin, and he frowned. "What are-" Then you kissed his neck and a shiver racked his body. His breath quickened and shook, your lips planting directly over his heartbeat. You sucked, making sure to leave him as many reminders of tonight as you could.

Your lips moved down his chest, blessing each nipple with a tug of teeth. Licking a stripe down his v line, you unbottoned his pants. He moaned, "y/n..." Watching as you tugged down his underwear with your teeth. His length sprained free, looking almost as eager as you.

"Stunning..." You spoke licking a line up his shaft. His legs shook at your move and you laughed, wrapping your first around his base. "It can't be this easy, Levi." He blinked looking down at you in bewilderment.

You lifted yourself up, becoming eye level with him. As light as a feather you stroked his cheek, his head leaning into your hand as though it were instinct. "I figured humanity's strongest would have put up more of fight." His eyes narrowed. "Especially since you seem to love giving orders." Your nails stabbed into his skin, his eyes widened and he pulled back "tch! You bitch!"

Your other hand grabbed his neck, squeezing it and bringing him to you. "I've wanted you for so long. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be so close and yet so far, to someone everyone wants." "Y/n." Levi whimpered as your hand tightened around his throat. "Maybe you do know how much you're wanted. Maybe you like it." You let go and he fell forward, you catching him.

"I guess we'll just have to add that to lists of why you must be punished." You pushed him to his knees, his pants still wrapped around his ankles. Your foot spread his legs apart, and kept them there. Your hand found his chin, pulling his face up.

"i hope you like this view, you'll need to get used to it." You pulled up your shirt, taking it off effortlessly. His eyes widened at your chest- you had chosen to go braless. Then, they relaxed, his tongue going between his teeth.

You pulled your pants off next, and then your underwear. The strap you had put on before you left your room flung out, and Levi looked between you and it. "Like I said, you need to be punished..." You stroked the strap on. "I consider this the punisher." You voice had dropped an octave lower.

Levi took on a dazed expression, half lidden eyes taking in the sight. "Open your mouth." His eyes flickered back up to you. They were big and puppy like."I said." You reached down and pinched his two cheeks together. "Open. Your. Mouth." His pretty little mouth popped open, and your hips thrusted the device in. Your hand ran through his hair as he sucked, when you reached the back of his head you pushed him forward.

Levi gagged around your cock, the fake tip hitting the back of his throat. Tears prickled, in his eyes, but your coos to take in more, to be a good boy for you, they caused his brows the furrow as he adjusted and did what he could to please you.

Using your grip on his head he allowed you guide him at your will, submitting to the drive of your hands. His eyes closed finally and your leg pressed up against his own hard on. "Who would've thought humanity's strongest could look so hot sucking dick." You spoke softly, causing your good boy to moan into the dick.

Finally, you pulled away watching the strings of salvia appear and separate as you let him go. His head bobbled towards you, his eyes barely open.

"fuck me...please." you bent down to where he was. "Oh baby..." Again, you stroked his cheek gently. "I'll do so much more than that to you. When I'm done with you...you won't be able to walk tomorrow." His breathe caught and you laughed. "Be my good boy and go to your desk. Ass out."

You watched him stand and walk to his desk, still filled with long forgotten papers and a dimly lit candle. You stood and moved to the neat pile you had placed his clothes in.

You pulled out his belt, smiling and snapping it. This could be useful.

You moved to where he stood, wrapping yourself behind him. "How well you listen, Levi." You slammed his upper body down onto the desk, pulling his hips up. His ass was on full display in the air, as perky as you imagined. Taking two fingers, you shoved them up is mouth.

Levi didn't need a command, his tongue went right to work. He wrapped it around your fingers while he moaned, pushing his hips against you and your cock.

"cheeky, cheeky." You smirked taking your free hand to grab his ass. Finally satisfied you pulled her fingers from his mouth.

"more..." His voice rasped out. "More? I haven't even started." With that you pushed your fingers into his tight hole. You began scissoring them, watching as he twitched beneath you. His breathing became louder the more you curled. Then you hit his prostate and he cried out, gasping at the intense pleasure you gave him.

Your fingers pulled out, and you reached for the belt that you had placed beside him for such a moment. "Tch, y/n please you must-" you reared the belt back and slammed it forward, the belt bouncing off his ass with a thrup! Sound. He gasped delightedly, his cheek pressed up against the cold metal of his desk.

Again you reared down, jolting his body. "You." Slap. "Think." Slap. "That." Slap. "You." Slap. "Can." Slap. "Just." Slap. "Treat." Slap. "People." Slap. "Like." Slap. "Shit." Slap. "Just." Slap. "Because." Slap. "You." Slap. "Are." Slap. "A." Slap. "Squad." Slap. "Leader." Tears streamed from his eyes, ass red and tender.

"you can't." You grabbed his hands from his sides, "and now you're going to be tied up with your own belt, right after you were just spanked with your own belt." You slide the belt around till it was tight enough to only hurt a bit.

Then you you raised his hands directly over his head. This was used as something to grip onto while you fucked him.

Her other hand made sure you two were properly aligned, and with little more than a grunt you thrusted in. A breath released from his body, a shout escaped his lips as you bottomed out.

You waited several seconds, gently stroking his face and cooing to him, waiting. Finally he nodded, telling you everything you needed to know. You pulled back, almost completely out, save for the tip before you plowed into him.

Your hips thrusted- hard and faster. The only way Levi Ackerman deserved- rough. Each time you bottomed out he grunted and it became a steady rhythm of grunts.

"nnnuh...nuuhhnn..ahhh..." He was drooling, each hit of his prostate weakening his resolve a bit more and making him a bit more needy for more.

Your position made it almost impossible for him to move and he could really only met your thrusts. "Harder!" He gasped out, tears running down his face, drool dripping from his mouth.

Your hand reached around and tugged along his dick, high pitched whines now leaving the captains mouth. "Y/n! Y/n I'm so close please, please." You bent down and bit into his shoulder, causing another Yelp to leave the squad leader.

"cum, bitch." You whispered to his ear and with a cry Levi Ackerman came, his eyes practically crossing as he painted his chest and desk white.

He laid their several seconds, breathing harshly and listening to the sounds of your praises. He was a good boy, he was. He was your good boy now, all yours.

Gently you helped him up and into his shower, fully discarding his bottoms and your strap, to take back to your room to wash.

You cleaned, scrubbed, and were as gentle as possible, making sure to help him to his bed.

You pulled your shirt over your head. "I can stay till you leave for breakfast...if you want that is but-" he cut you off. "Tch...Stay as long as you want." He pulled himself up and onto his elbows. "Especially since you didn't cum."

You raised a brow. "Levi, I appreciate it, but I don't think you're read yet...I mean- we-" again he cut you off. "Y/n, my mouth is always ready."

You paused. He was right, you hadn't cum and not very often did the people you slept with care. He was offering his mouth to you- not that Levi surprised you much- he was very caring and it seemed natural he'd be that way in bed.

You smiled and tugged off your shirt. "I hope you're hungry." You crawled into the bed, barely having to do a damn thing as Levi simply hoisted you up- as if you weighed nothing- and sat you on his face.

His nose carded through your folds- parting them for his tongue. Your hips buckled against him, thighs closing around his face. His hands came up and wrapped around them, pressing them together.

"Fuck, Levi." You moaned as his tongue licked from your hole to your clit, where he sucked for several seconds. Again he pushed his nose up into you, allowing you to ride his face and practically suffocate him. "God, you're so good." You squealed, yanking at his raven locks. He had definitely done this before and definitely knew how good he was.

He hummed into you, pushing you down each time your hips buckled up. Finally it seemed he had enough with your erratic movements before he flipped you into your back and moved so that he was on his stomach, mouth never leaving your core.

Your legs wrapped around his head as he ate, each time dipping his head in deeper to your core. His tongue fucked your hole with urgency, meaning, desire and finally with one final plunge you came, wetting his face.

He pulled away, allowing you to sit up. Your legs were shaky, but you moved so that you were directly in front of him. You licked your juices from his face, meeting him in a chaste kiss.

"Maybe I should be more harsh on you cadets more often." He spoke hurriedly as she pushed him down. You tutted. "Did you really learn nothing, my sweet boy?" He shrugged allowing you to pin his hands down above him.

"What can I say? I am the leader of the brats."

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

BONUS

Erwin frowned at his friend and colleague. The two had been eating breakfast together and everything had seemed rather ordinary until Erwin noticed a bruise on the side of Levi's neck.

"uh..Levi?" Levi glanced up. "Where did you get that bruise?" Levi frowned at Erwin. "What bruise?" Erwin rolled his eyes impatiently. "The one on your neck."

"Hello everyone! I hope everyone slept well!" Hanji appeared interrupting the conversation. She slid into a chair on the other side of Levi, smiling happily.

Erwin made a few more glances at Levi's neck, but felt it best to leave it, lest he be smitted by the all powerful Levi Ackerman.

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

A/n: BARK BARK BARK okay I definitely got a bit...carried away. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this, thanks for reading, and pls feel free to give critism!

[felswritingfire]

April Brain Rot #6

Prompts:

90. Violin

27. "Your heart is pounding."

Sebek Zigvolt x Reader

Summery: A ball between Royal Sword Academy and Night Raven College has one half fae in particular wound up- especially when he catches wind that someone is asking you for a dance.

TW: None

Word Count: 1,282

A note from Fel: This bastard (spoiler alert) gets not one but TWO fics to himself- what a little shit am I right? (I fucking love him, and so does my girlfriend and no, I will not shut the fuck up about her I love her- honey, if you're reading this I LOVE YOU- and she said that this was her favorite one so far so like *fist bump*). I hope you enjoy!

Sebek had been stealing glances at you all night. He would scold himself every time he caught himself doing it: drinking in the way the light hit your shoulders and the smile on your face as someone in your group made a particularly funny remark. He wanted this awfully… warm feeling in his chest to stop. Though, he’s been feeling that way every time you were in the room with him for a while now.

Maybe he was getting sick.

Or you poisoned him! He closes his eyes, nodding sagely to himself. That’s the only explanation. You were lying when you told him it was fine after he accidentally ate that bonbon you had made with Trey and now you were exacting your revenge-

“What’re you thinking about, Sebek?” Came Lilia’s remark as he floated behind the young man’s head.

Sebek almost let out the most pitiful screech, but bit his tongue to keep it inside (for surely he could not sully his Lord Malleus’ name with such a pathetic response! His Lord was actually here for once!). “N-” he cleared his throat, righting his posture before continuing- “Nothing, Lilia-senpai! Simply watching for any threats that could be awaiting the Young Master!”

Lilia giggles. “Oh, Sebek,” he pats his head. “I don’t think there’ll be anyone- or thing- gutsy enough to hurt our Malleus. So you should go enjoy yourself! Eat some food! Chat with friends!” The fae leans close to Sebek’s face, a sudden feeling of being overwhelmed pulses behind Sebek’s eyes as he watches Lilia’s pupils narrow into fine slits. “Or dance with a special little human before the nights up, hm?”

Sebek could feel the blush climb up his neck and ring in his ears. “I do not have a special human!” The sheer volume of his cry enough to have people around them wincing.

“Fine, fine,” Lilia said with a wave. The mischievous smile that quirked onto his face as he looks past Sebek has him dreading turning around. “So, that means you don’t mind some random boy from Royal Sword Academy whisking them away?”

“What?” Sebek could feel the blood boil under his skin as some- some- lowly male tried to ask you for a dance: holding his hand out to you with a slight bow and a gentle smile. Ace was letting out a series of high pitched ‘ooo’s!’ while Deuce was subtly trying to puff himself up behind you, crossing his arms to seem more intimidating. Grim was declaring how weird humans were while Jack and Epel were silently glowering at him, waiting for you to decide.

Hm, seems he overestimated how well that bunch could protect you. Before he knew it he was pushing through people to get to you and that boy, Lilia’s giggles following after him.

“Will you allow me this dance, beautiful stranger?”

You felt your cheeks flush a pink as the red head extended a hand to you, the very definition of princely. “I- you see, I’m waiting for someone to ask me so-”

“One dance wouldn’t hurt would it?”

“N-no-” you glanced at where Sebek had been standing only to see him gone, your heart clenching in an uncomfortably tight hold- “I suppose not.” You begin to put your hand in his when someone else catches yours, pulling you behind a broad back.

“You have no right-” You feel a shiver run down your spine at the growl, Ace and Deuce’s hands coming to pull you away from the two boys. Grim floats in front of you uneasily as Jack comes to shield you and Epel comes to hold your hand- “to touch them.”

“Pray tell, why not? This is a ball between Royal Sword and Night Raven to allow us to mingle together, is it not?”

“Maybe- but I will not allow someone so lowly to taint them.”

The red headed boy tilted his head, his gaze condescending as he crossed his arms over his chest. “And you think you’re worthy? Truly?”

Sebek straightened his back, his shoulders squaring, making him look impossibly big. “Yes.”

They glared at each other, despite the boy being up to Sebeks’ chin, he still kept his glare even with his. He opened his mouth to retort with a head of black and pink hair slipped in front of their view. “Hello!” Lilia said, his tone sing-songy as he flipped himself to float right side up. “You boys seem to be having fun!”

“I- Lilia- senpai, I don’t think we’re-”

Lilia hushed him with a finger before leaning over and nodding to you and the boys. “Why don’t you take our little (Y/N) for a dance, hm? I’m sure they’ve been waiting an awfully long time for you to do it.”

Sebek blinked, nodding and turning to you. Offering his arm as he asks: “would you allow me this dance?”

You note the blush that rests on his cheeks, a soft laugh leaving you as you put your hand on his arm. “Of course.” As he’s walking you to the center of the dance floor you look back at the boy and yell out: “I’ll dance with you later!”

Sebek bristles at that and you yelp as he almost lifts you off the ground as he sweeps you into his arms: one hand rests on the small of your back while the other holds one of your hands in a gentle grip. “I don’t want you near that boy, human.”

You feel a smile tug at your lips. “You know, I did promise him that I would dance with him later, right?”

“Yes, and I demand you revoke your promise.”

“Why?”

Sebek swayed the two of you back and forth, an annoyed sigh pushing past his lips. “He is a suspicious figure- I don’t trust him with the safety of the Young Masters friend.”

“That all?”

He huffs, pressing you closer to him. The sound of a soft tune being played on violins and a piano surrounds the two of you. It sounds like a song for lovers.

You rest your head against his chest, closing your eyes as the two of you swayed to your own rhythm. “Your heart is pounding.” You murmur.

“Well- that- I-” Sebek fumbled with his words, trying not to jostle you in his embarrassed and nervous twitches. “Don’t make fun of me, human.”

You laugh before saying: “I was waiting for you to ask me to dance.”

Sebek could feel his ears burn with a blush. “Why?”

You look up at him through your lashes before you huff and lean against his chest again. “You’re such a silly fae, you know that?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, human?” His voice builds in volume, his eyebrows twitching into an annoyed ‘v’.

“It means your dense, my handsome knight. So very, very dense.”

“I am not dense.”

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve been picking up on my attraction towards you and haven’t done anything? Sebek Zigvolt, I would have never guessed you were someone to string people along. How cruel.”

You almost burst out laughing at the mortified look on his face. “I- I-” his pale cheeks flush a deep red as he fights to make a coherent sentence. “You like me?”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “More than you know.”

He nods once, twice- trying to fight the smile threatening to split across his face but his eyes gleam like shooting stars. “V-very good, human. You’ve chosen the perfect partner. Yes, I will do well to protect you and the Young Master from now on.”

You let out a laugh, the song ending, yet the two of you continued to sway. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

<The Next Chosen Character>

Thank you for reading!

[imasimpforshanks]

omg I am so sorry I completely forgot to put the alphabet 😅 E C J M T for Shanks for the angst alphabet! thank you and sorry for the mistake! ❤️

Angst Alphabet - Shanks

a/n: hiii! Thank y’all for requesting! To the second anon, I went with Shanks (I hope that’s ok!!!) 💗💗💗

LOLOL THIS MY HUSBANDDDDD 💍😍

A-Accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

It would depend on how much he felt he could have prevented it. However, Shanks understands all to well just how cruel the world can be. He can’t constantly be in control of everything, so although it would be devastating, he would have to realize that this is reality.

B-Break up (How would they break up with you?)

Shanks would use the excuse that he is a Yonko. He’s no good for you, and you deserve so much better than an infamous pirate who only brings danger. While these are just excuses - ways to make breaking up with you easier - he really would be speaking from the heart. Shanks has always felt this way but never voiced it, but now it’s finally time to let you go.

C-Crying (how would they make you cry?)

He leaves for long periods of time and refuses to you along. You know he’s only doing it for your safety, but it hurts that he doesn’t think you’re strong or responsible enough to join his crew on their voyages (note: he doesn’t actually think you’re not strong or responsible – his pirate life is just extremely dangerous, even as a yonko).

D-Death (how would they react to your death?)

He’s seen and experienced a lot of death in his life so he’d be a able to cope with it a little better than others would. Even so, your death would still be heart-breaking (he would mourn privately though). Now, if he literally saw you get killed in front of him then RIP to the person who killed you because they will be the one/s to die next.

E-Emotion (what is one emotion they would try to hide the most and how would they do it?)

Shanks is quite an open book. If he’s angry everyone knows. If he’s happy everyone knows (etc.). But, if I really had to pick one… I suppose it would be sadness or grief. He feels obligated to put on a front for his crew (although they can see right through it). He tends to let out his sadness and grief when he’s alone.

F-Fight (do you two ever fight? How big are the fights? What do you fight about? Etc.)

He tends to crack jokes before your fights can escalate into anything too serious. Sometimes it’s intentional, but other times it’s just his personality shining through. And rather than serious fights there’s just a lot of teasing and taunts between the two of you.

If you were to have a serious fight, it would be about both of your safety (As would most fights with any of the One Piece characters).

G-Guilt (what is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?)

More often than not, Shanks finds himself able let go of a LOT of shit. But the one thing he can’t seem to stop feeling guilty about is his failure to show up to Marineford on time. He knows he’s not directly responsible for Ace’s death, but that doesn’t stop the overwhelming guilt. If only he had gotten there a few minutes earlier.

H-Heartbreak (what would cause them pain in the relationship? How would they deal during a break-up?)

Coming back to you after each voyage is something he always looks forward to. However, that happiness is short-lived when he realizes he has to leave again in a few weeks. It’s always so painful having to say goodbye again.

I don’t think he would be too different during a break-up. Perhaps he may crack a few less jokes, but other than that, his personality and demeanour when around others remains the same. It isn’t until he’s alone that he lets his smile fall.

I-Injured (how would they react if you are badly injured?)

Undoubtedly, he’d be concerned, but he knows you’ll pull through (you have to pull through). So, after that initial concern has passed, he’ll be feeling all types of pissed off. Whoever, or whatever, injured you will pay – and honestly, he may not even deal the perpetrator himself (his crew is already on it - you are like family to them).

J-Jealousy (what do they do if they are jealous?)

I honestly think Shanks is just the type of person to just tell you if he’s jealous. But he wouldn’t say “uhh I’m feeling a little jealous” or anything along those lines – no. Instead, Shanks puts on a little pout and does a massive fake sigh until you finally ask him what’s wrong. That’s when he hits you with the “I guess my attention just isn’t enough for you”, and you’re like “HUH?? MF WHAT?” He’s literally such a child HAHA.

But, if there’s one particular person he really does not like you being around and they won’t leave you alone, then he is not at all opposed to just shoving his tongue down your throat right in front of them. That’ll definitely get the message across.

K-Kill (would they kill for revenge?)

Shanks may be a goofy and laid-back individual, but he will resort to violence if the situation calls for it. So, it is very likely that Shanks would kill for revenge. Maybe he wouldn’t necessarily do it himself. But, if he orders it, it’ll definitely happen.

L-Loss (what is their greatest loss?)

Gol D. Roger’s death was probably one of the greatest losses in Shanks’ life. Roger is the reason Shanks is a pirate today, and young shanks was absolutely broken by his death.

(hard to write much for this one seeing as shanks’ character is still quite a mystery to us!)

M-Mistake (what is the worst mistake they ever made with you?)

One time he completely forgot a date night that you spent SO LONG planning. It wasn’t just any date night either. It was a date you planned on his final night before him and his crew had to leave again for a while. You spent hours waiting for to show up, but he was nowhere to be seen. Finally, he showed up at your place, breath reeking of booze. You just looked at him and it hit him (he was like “OH SHIT”). He started apologizing profusely. He didn’t try to make any excuses, he completely owned up to being a shitty boyfriend. But, the moment he knew he had well and truly fucked up was when you just nodded and waved good night to him, wishing him safe travels – you didn’t cry, get visibly angry you just left alone. Shanks knew that was far worse than any yelling.

N-Nightmares (how often do they have them? What are they about? How do they deal with it?)

I literally am not joking when I say this but I think Shanks practically drinks till he passes out so even if he were to get nightmares he wouldn’t wake up LMAOOOOOOOOOOOO (ok maybe I am joking with this one but also kind of not).

In all seriousness though, I don’t think Shanks has nightmares very frequently. It’s gotten to the point where any fear or things of that matter that could be nightmares for him, have become so common in his life that he almost finds it not frightening to think about.

O-Outrage (how and why would they get mad at you?)

He would get mad at you for placing yourself in unnecessary danger. He’d call you stupid and irresponsible, even though he doesn’t really mean any of those things – it’s just the image of him potentially losing you forever is replaying in his mind and it absolutely terrifies him.

P-Past (what has happened in your relationship that changed the way you saw each other?)

You saw him get serious serious once before. Like the kind of serious where he uses his conquerors haki and everything. It definitely caused a bit of a change in your relationship as it was terrifying to witness. You’ve always known Shanks was strong and intimidating when needed, but that moment really showed you what it meant when people called him an “emperor of the sea”.

Q-Quality (what is their most dangerous/toxic quality?)

Not wanting to openly express his sadness and grief in front of others can be a very unhealthy quality. Shanks doesn’t allow himself good enough opportunities to express him emotions in a safe and healthy manner.

R-Rejection (how would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around))

(First of all WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT TO REJECT SHANKS ANYWAY LIKE HUBBA HUBBA I LOVE HIM ANYWHOOOOOOOOO…..) Shanks is the type to just shrug it off. He’d be a little disappointed, bc c’mon the hottest most amazing person he’s ever known just turned him down! But he knows not everything in life goes how you want it to. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and this just happens to be one of the things he’s lost. So ultimately, he’ll just shrug it off. (he will definitely get teased by his crew though).

S-Scars (battle or self-inflicted)

Shanks has no self-inflicted wounds. But he does have a scar across his left eye given to him by Blackbeard. He also has a missing arm which he (heroically) sacrificed as he saved lil Luffys life (does a missing arm even count as a scar?)

T-Trust (have they ever broken your trust?)

He’s never given you any reason to not trust him. He’s always open and honest with you. Well, as honest as he can be without placing you in any danger. Trust was something needed from the get-go of your relationship because he would be gone for long periods of time. The two of you wouldn’t be able to last without trust.

Oh, also if shanks ever did do anything to break your trust you best believe his crew will beat his ass (especially Benn). You’re family to them.

U-Urge (how badly do they want to see you after you guys separated?)

My god does he want to see you. He would give his other arm just to be right by your side in an instant. He’s gone for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. Shanks loves his crew, they’re a lively bunch and he trusts them with his life, and vice versa. But they’re not you. They don’t provide him with that same feeling of home that you do. Sure, this could be fixed if he let you join the crew on their journeys, but he absolutely cannot place you in that kind of danger. You’re already in enough danger as it is simply being in a relationship with him.

V-Vicious (what do they do when they lash out on you?)

Rather than lashing out at you, Shanks tends to give you the silent treatment. He looks at you without a word and just turns away. He does this in an attempt to make you feel guilty and as if everything is your fault.

W-Weak (what makes them feel weak how do they try to avoid it?)

There isn’t much that makes Shanks feel weak. But, being unable to be near his s/o is one of the few things that does make him feel weak. It’s a constant struggle between wanting to have them around him constantly, but also not wanting to place them in any danger. Ultimately, he decides that not placing them in danger is the better choice, despite how much it pains him.

X-X-ray (what do they hate and show it most obviously?)

Shanks can handle being picked on and ridiculed himself, but he will not tolerate that sort of behaviour towards his friends. The second someone goes after a friend (or someone else he cares about) they are done for.

Y-Yearn (what is one thing that they want but can’t have?)

LMFAOOOOOO WHY DID MY BRAIN AUTOMATICALLY THINK “his arm back” OOP-

I’M SORRY BUT I LITERALLY CAN’T THINK OF ANYTHING ELSE OTHER THAN HIS ARM HAHAHAHAHAH

Z-Zero (what do they do/say in your dying moments?)

He’d try to crack a few jokes to at least help you feel better. Other than that, he just tries to make the most of your final moments together.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

The Morning After - Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

A/N: This is the second part of the smut prompt: Did we fu*k last night? I was really excited to continue this story and I hope you like it too. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking. 

You can read the first part HERE. :) 

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F! Reader 

Warnings: 18 + NSFW Explicit (language, lingerie, kissing, oral (F! receiving), multiple orgasms, p in v sex, fluff) 

Word Count: 3.1K 

My Masterlist 

The Morning After 

Last Time...

You look at the text message again. The perfect night of passion with Santiago, and he doesn't even remember if you…The phone chimes again. 

Santiago Garcia: I'm a moron. I don't know why I said that. I know that we did. It was one of the most incredible moments of my life. 

You: Then what the fuck, Santiago?

Santiago Garcia: I want to take you to breakfast, on a date. It's the least you could do after bailing on me last night. 

You: Well, I'm not sure I want to. 

Santiago Garcia: Well, that makes this awkward. 

You: What? 

Knock Knock 

*******

You throw yourself off the bed, almost tripping as you run into the bathroom and squeeze toothpaste all over the brush and furiously start brushing your teeth. Throwing off your shirt and shorts, you trip over the edge of the mattress, reaching into the drawer and pulling out a new bra and panties in black lace. You didn't know if it would lead to a repeat of last night, but a good soldier is always prepared before they go into battle. 

Tossing a black silk robe around your shoulders and cinching the waist, you run to the door. Taking a few moments to collect yourself before reaching towards the handle. On the other side, Santiago leans against the door jam, arms crossed over his chest. Jeans hugging him closer than a glove, navy blue t-shirt tight across his chest, and that damn hat low on his forehead. He looks up at you through the veil of his lashes, and you feel yourself burn under his gaze. 

"Can I help you?" you feel a surge of confidence, and his smile falters for a moment before he leans down and picks up a white box tied with a pink string and a drink carrier with four cups. "What's all this?" you point to the items, and his smile grows. 

"I told you last night I wanted to see you again," he lifts up the items, "I brought breakfast. I thought we could talk unless I royally fucked everything up with that text." Part of you wants to slam the door in his face, but the deeper part of you thinks about the way he ran back to kiss you. The way his lips felt warm and soft against your own as he asked you not to run away. 

"Come in," you say quietly, and he smiles, passing the threshold and following you to the dining room. He opens the box, and your mouth waters; pastries and sweets of all kinds, almost bursting out of the box. "My god, how many people are you planning to feed?" 

He blushes, looking away and uncapping the cups. "I didn't know what you'd want most, so I got one of everything they had in the case. I also got a latte, cappuccino, black coffee, and apple cider. I'm not sure what you wanted." 

You pause, "Apple cider? How did you know I-" 

"You really think last night was the first time I noticed you, baby?" He steps closer, and your eyes widen, "I've noticed everything about you. How much you love apple cider, your favorite color, and how you like all your pens in a nice row at the top of your desk." His hand glides up to your waist and hovers over the string tied around your waist. "I also know you're not wearing any clothes under this sheer thing." 

You quickly look down and curse. "Fuck," you didn't mean to put on the sheer robe, just the silk one. You quickly turn and walk away from him towards your bedroom, but his whistle catches your attention, and you turn. 

He saunters over slowly, one hand running over his mouth, his eyes rake over your body. Each sound of his boot on the hardwoods, making you shiver as he gets closer and closer. "Where are you running off too?" His tone surprises you; the softness not expected compared to the heat in his eyes. 

"I need to change; I didn't mean for...I didn't mean to wear the sheer." His eyes look at you, and you bite your lip as he reaches a handout and strokes it over your ass, closing the last bit of difference. 

"Do you want me to go?" he whispers, and his lips are but a ghost upon your own. "I came here to have breakfast with you, to talk," he leans over and kisses your cheek, "to get to know you," he goes to the other cheek and places his soft, warm lips upon it. Leaning down towards your ear, "Tell me you haven't thought about last night. Because it's all, I've been thinking about since I finished my speech and realized you were gone." 

He pulls back, and you see a flash of hurt in his eyes before it's gone. Years of hiding his emotions from others building up his defenses. "Why did you leave?" The question hangs in the air for a moment, neither of you moving. 

"I- I didn't want to see how little I meant to you," there the words are out—the truth of why you had to leave him after that perfect moment. "I'd gone back in to grab my bag and coat, and you were talking to that other woman at the bar. I may have acted confident last night, but I don't do one-night stands." 

His hands cup your cheeks, and you let out a small sniffle begging yourself not to cry. "I guess I didn't help the situation with my text this morning." 

You let out a watery chuckle, "no, it most certainly did not. Did you...did you go home with her?"

"Do you think I would go home with another woman and then show up at your house bringing you breakfast?" He wipes the traitor tears that have begun to streak down your cheeks. "Baby, it's you. It's been you for months, ever since Frankie introduced us. I just...shit, I don't know how to date. I did this whole thing backward; I'd been working up the courage to ask you out, and then we had fucking mind-blowing sex in an alley, and now I'm telling you my feelings." 

"You really are hopeless." He stops and looks at you, his face drooping like you stepped on his favorite toy. "But I like you too." 

He's frozen, and you reach up and wave a hand in front of his face to get his attention. "Santiago?" He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each pad of your fingertips gently. The heat slowly rising as he finishes with your fingers and moves to your hand, your wrist, and up your arm until he finds your collarbone and places wet open mouth kisses. You whimper as he works higher to your neck and his hands drop down to the tie at your waist. "Can I take this off, baby?" You nod, and he moves to remove the tie pulling it apart at the waist and slipping it down your shoulders. 

He pulls away to look down, and his eyes turn darker as he drops the sheer robe to the ground. He circles you like a hawk, his hand creating a blazing path as it follows the curves of your body. Till he comes to stand before you, "Fuck, your so beautiful." You take his hat off his head and put it on your own. 

"Since we've already screwed up the order of things, why not just say what the hell and do it again?" His eyes are alight with mischief, and he pulls you close hands, kneading the flesh of your ass, your thong not leaving much to the imagination. Santi's an ass man, good to know. 

"On one condition," he's but a breath away from kissing you, and you just want him to finally kiss you. 

"What's that?" 

"The hat stays on." He crashes his lips onto your own, and you reciprocate tenfold. Both of you wound up tighter than a top as he slowly walks you backward until you hit the wall, hard. You whimper, and he pulls away, looking down at you in concern. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" 

"No," fuck this is embarrassing, "My back is just sore from…" His face splits into a shit eating grin, and you curse at how self-satisfied he looks. 

"From when I fucked my baby so good she came twice in the alley of a brewery on the night of my best friend's bachelor party?" 

You scoff, "No, from when some guy fucked me so good, he dug my back into the wall and made it sore." 

"How about I give you a massage?" His voice drops an octave as he pulls on your wrist, and you direct him to the bedroom. "Lay down on the bed, face down. Do you have any lotion or oil?" You go over to your little treasure trove of sexual delights, and he follows eagerly, pulling out a variety of items, including the warming oil. "Perfect, now strip." 

You turn and push him onto the bed, and he looks confused at you for a moment before his mouth drops open. You stand in the middle of the bedroom, moving your hips to a slow sensual rhythm in your head as you reach for the clasp on the bra, unsnapping it and giggling your chest forward to bring the straps down. His Adam's apple bobs as he watches your breasts sway as you step out of your panties bare before him. Approaching the bed, you move like your going to kiss him before you flop onto your stomach, giggling onto the bed. 

He laughs before his hand comes down to smack and knead your butt, leaning down and placing a kiss. You hear him squeeze the bottle of oil into his hands and rub them together to activate the warmth. Moaning as he finally touches the skin of your back and rubs them firmly down your spine. Fuck, he is good at giving massages; this might need to become a regular thing. You whimper as he works out a painful knot, and his breathing gets heavier as the slick begins to pool between your legs. 

"Shit, baby, those noises you make may become the death of me." You turn over, and he freezes hands poised above you as you look at him with lust ridden eyes. "Can I touch you here?" He hovers over your breasts, and you nod, biting your lip as he massages your breasts. The rough, calloused hands graze over your nipple before he leans down and captures one in his mouth. His eyes never leaving yours as he moves to the other, enveloping the hard nub into his mouth and sucking. 

He kisses his way back between the hollow of your breasts and then lower down your stomach. "Santi, you did that last night; let me taste you," you whine, and he tsks with his tongue coming back up to kiss your lips. 

"I love eating your sweet pussy; please don't deprive me of that. I want to see those beautiful lips wrapped around my cock but not right now. Let me taste you, baby, that's all I want." He licks your lips, and you open for him as you dance for dominance. "Up," he slaps the side of your ass, "I want you to ride my face, let me bury my tongue deep and taste you cum all over my tongue." Oh...fuck… "Plus my knees," he pauses and almost looks ashamed, "my knees can't take any more after last night." 

You sit up and cup his cheek, "My back and your knees, we make quite the pair, don't we?" He lets out a laugh, nodding, "Lay down, I will give you anything you want," he smiles, "within reason." 

He lays down on the bed, and you shift your knees to lay on either side of his head, holding onto the headboard to steady yourself, but he can't wait to pull you down. You let out a gasp as his tongue plunges inside you and licks broad stripes up and down your soaked cunt. "Santi," you whimper, and his fingers dig into your hips so you can't get away as he wrecks you with his mouth. You've always been vocal as you whimper, and moan, fingers digging into the headboard as he moves you forward and inserts a finger inside. "Oh my fuck," he adds a second and starts pumping into you, his other hand keeping you down. 

The pleasure is blinding as he works you faster, his tongue latching onto your clit and sucking hard. You cum all over his face as his tongue licks up every single drop, and you scream out his name. His palm holding tight to you to keep you down on him, lapping up every drop. He never stops, and you pant out his name and tap his hand holding you. "I want you inside me, fuck, for the love of god Santi," he lets go of your clit with a pop. 

"You can do it again, cum again for me, Querida," the smooth Spanish husky and deep as he gulps air before diving back in has you cumming again in no time flat. Your knuckles hurting from how hard you're digging into the headboard. 

He finally pulls his mouth away, and you tremble, hesitant to move, so you don't collapse and smother him in pussy. Although with Santiago, that would probably be a preferable way to go. You tremble as he takes one more wide lick of your pussy before shuffling out from under you, allowing you to collapse to the bed. You look up at him over the brim of his hat still on your head, and he smiles down at you before kissing you. You taste yourself on his tongue and moan into his mouth. "I want you to ride my cock baby, do you think you can do that?" 

"But Santi," you whine, "I want to suck your cock." He kisses your pouty lips softly and chuckles. 

"I plan to be around for a long time baby, there will be plenty of time for that. I want you to cum all over my cock, let me fill you so full you will be thinking of me every day for the next week." You bite your lip, running your hands through his hair and down his neck, cupping it. You feel a small line at the back of his neck, and you turn his head to see a scar. 

"What's this?" you ask, and his smile drops. 

"It's nothing," he tries to kiss you again, but you stop pulling away. 

"No more secrets," you cup his cheek, "Nothing will change the way I feel about you." 

"I had surgery about two years ago, my knees were already shot, but this surgery...it made everything worse. I'm worried that you are going to realize how broken I truly am and-" you cut him off with a kiss. 

"Nothing," you kiss him softly and push him down on the bed, "Absolutely nothing will change the way I feel about you. I'm choosing you. If your knees are shot, then you will have to lie there as I ride your cock, and your face, and suck your dick." 

The tears pool in his eyes, and you unbuckle his jeans and work them and his boxers down his legs and tossing them to the floor. "Take off your shirt," he lifts his arms and pulls off the navy t-shirt. The eye contact is intense, almost like you can see into his soul as you kiss each of his knees, his thighs, and the tip of his cock. 

"Get up here," he crooks one finger at you, and you crawl up his body, kissing him as you line him up with your entrance. Rubbing him through your slick. "Fuck, querida, you're so wet for me, aren't you? Such a good girl." The last word cracks as you impale yourself on him. 

Both of you moaning together as you take him deeper and deeper inside you. Until you are entirely seated on him, feeling that wonderful full feeling from the night before. You start slowly rocking your hips back and forth, each time hitting your clit deliciously. You begin to build up speed until your bouncing on his cock, tits bouncing in time with each thrust. "You look so goddamn beautiful wearing my hat and bouncing on my cock." 

"That's it. Be a good girl and ride me, baby," his hand comes and slaps the skin of your ass, and you groan, feeling the pleasure building. His other hand coming around to circle your clit. "Come on, coat my coat in all those delicious juices, baby. I want you to cum all over my cock." He plants his feet on the bed and starts fucking up into you, pounding your pussy. 

"Fuck, Santi, I'm gonna cum," you scream and clench around his cock as he praises you in English and Spanish cumming inside you almost instantly. He fills you so wholly, ropes of cum pouring inside you.

"Shit baby, I'm so sorry," he looks at you alarmed, "I didn't, I di-" 

"I have an IUD," you say him kissing him softly, and he returns it, letting out a breath. 

You pull off him, both of you groaning and collapse in his arms. "You know I really loved what we did in the alley last night, but this is better. I love just holding you like this." You sigh and giggle as your stomach grumbles. He laughs, "It looks like breakfast was a good idea. How about we bring that box in here and have some coffee and then do that again?" 

"I think that's a fantastic idea," you kiss him again and go grab the box, putting on the correct robe this time. 

************ 

Later 

Danger Zone rings throughout the room, and Santi reaches over your shoulder to his jeans on the floor, pulling out his phone. "Who's that?" you stretch and yawn, Santi keeping his other arm around you as he answers the phone. 

"Hello?" You hear the shouting on the other end and look at Santi, who looks just as alarmed. 

"FUCK, SHIT, I'M COMING! FUCK, I know! My tux is in the truck, don't worry, I will be there soon!" He hangs up the phone and stands up, reaching for his jeans. 

"Baby, we got to go," you sit up and watch him run around. 

"What's going on?" 

"It's two o'clock weddings in forty-five minutes! Frankie may really shoot me this time if I miss his wedding. I'm going to go get my tux, get dressed!" He runs out of the room, shirtless with his jeans unbuttoned. You sit there shocked before he is running back in, kneeling before you on the bed, "Will you be my date to the wedding?" 

"Of course," you shout, and he's kissing you again and running out the door. Life with Santiago will never be boring. 

 Should I make a part 3 where they go to the wedding together? Let me know. :)

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @heythere-mel​ @justanotherblonde23​ @artsymaddie​ @anetteaneta​ @lunarthoughts​ @aellynera​ @lucifer-​ @houseofthirst​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @chicken-ona-stick​ @agirllovespancakes​ @letoartreiides​ @revolution-starter​ @josepedropascal​ 

 Others who might be interested: @mrsparknuts​ @neverlandlibrarian​ @the-purity-pen​ @thestreamergirl​ 

[21tailsofwoe]

“cry for the moon: side H” musings

so i watched the hunter side of identity v stage episode 3 “cry for the moon” and i would like to let out my thoughts because there are so many of them and i do not know any better way of coping with my feelings.

spoilers for the stage play under the cut:

simply said, this production was leagues above episode 1, which i also hold very close to heart so you can imagine what episode 3 did to me. i’ve loved mary ever since i started playing the game almost a year ago, and to learn that there’d be an entire stage play dedicated to her. and not to mention that cecile daigo would play her role, i was already sold.

putting her character against eli, whose character (at least in the stage) is supposed to be this calm, supportive, empathetic person, i’d keep thinking how they’d pull it off, how’d they frame mary’s backstory, how everything would work out in the manor...i had so many questions. in the end, i came out so thoroughly satisfied by this stage. in fact, my friend and i cried multiple times watching this. it affected us THAT much.

story:

the story is a little straight-forward. mary is a queen who was executed by her own people. from my understanding, they didn’t allude to the revolution or anything, simply the fact that mary grew up in royalty and luxury, was taught to be high-headed, and self-centered, maintain that elite image. and in following this way of life, she ended up being extremely lonely, till everyone around her betrayed her and she was left to be executed. in the manor, now that she’s dead, she’s still very stubbornly insists that everyone treat her like royalty, that everyone else in the manor is beneath her, just so she could justify the pain from the loneliness and betrayal she felt. eli shows up, reaches out, the concept of ‘skins’ in the game is very cleverly used as a plot device, and the stage ends with mary learning about the Power Of Friendship(TM). she also learns to accept herself as a person, not as a ‘concept.’

i feel like the motives of the hunter main character seemed a lot more fleshed out. the connection to the survivor main character was established in due time, and all the pieces started fitting together as the story went on, something i found a little lacking in the first stage. like i said, it’s straight-forward and easy to digest, but still ends up tugging at your heartstrings.

characters:

mary’s characterisation was phenomenal. i’ve always been bitter about the fact that the game straight up copy pasted marie antoinnette onto her, but in the stage the creative liberties were put on full display. she’s her own character, with abundant past trauma which makes her cold and unapproachable. she’s so protective of her world view that she’d lash out on anyone and everyone who dares to change it. being called a ‘hunter’ makes her snap, makes her pissed, because she’s a queen! she always has been! there’s no way she could be standing along with other people! that’s not what she’s learned in her life time!

eli doesn’t have a lot of character moments because this was the hunter side after all, but he’s the same as the first stage. sees a lonely, recluse person, and wants to reach out. though the creators have stated that each stage is a different manor, or a different story, they’ve stuck to this characterisation of eli and i love it.

while the other hunters also had their parts, the more prominent ones were luchino and joseph. and joseph. oh goodness. his transformation from the first stage to now was something i craved for. he’s joking around with the other hunters, the other hunters also clown him pretty bad. he has a soft spot for robbie. the back and forth he shares with luchino also filled my heart with so much love. and most importantly, he’s the one who tells mary to embrace the present as it is, because holding onto the past will not do much. he fits the gap between eli and mary perfectly, and moves the story in his own joseph way. seeing him actually move on from his past and live with a healthy mindset, something we’ll probably never see in the game...it destroyed something in me.

joseph’s character also emphasises that in the confusion of whatever the manor wants from them, the hunters at least have each other. it was a very nice touch.

acting, direction, dialogue:

this is the part where episode 3 completely overshadows episode 1. cecile daigo is the star of this stage. she has once again won my heart. when she’s being cold, you’ll feel a chill down your spine. when she’s angry, you’ll physically feel that tension. when she screams and cries, you’ll have your heart sink. her dialogue delivery in any given situation hit in all the right spots. i’m still scared to go rewatch the guillotine scene because it was so incredibly painful to watch the first time.

not only that, but the way they creatively used this open stage which made the play seem so much more idv-like. the way they would place eli on one end of the stage walking in one direction, and mary would be on the other side walking in the opposite direction. or when the lights would follow them around the stage as they sang their duet, OR OR OR the way the actor playing mary’s mirror image would sync perfectly with mary, or even the way eli talks to mary in a soft, calm manner, knowing that she’s going through something very traumatic. it was all so beautifully done. the dialogues themselves were so impactful, we had to rewind some scenes just to appreciate the words properly.

music, costumes, misc:

the music. GOD the music. not only the hunter song, but also the score in the play itself. the fairy-tale like song in the fake world. eli and mary’s duet song. it was all perfect. in the end when mary returns to all the hunters with a change of heart, and ‘acclamation’ plays in the background i actually got teary eyed lmao. just the timing of everything was so spot on.

the costumes, just like the previous stage, were also perfect. mary rocking bloodbath while bride eli mopes in the background. the other characters in their alternate clothing was. something.

also. norton in a tux. phenomenal.

my personal favourite part from the alternate world was the dance, where i lost my shit two times: one, when i saw 0.3 seconds of fiopat and two, when i saw xiefan fist bump.

ty for the fanservice idv stage play.

as a milf enjoyer, i would’ve appreciated more of marymichi but i think this one screen cap alone is enough to fuel me for the next ten years.

gotta appreciate michiko for taking the shot at the start of the play. she missed terribly, but she took a shot and that’s what matters. go get your girl, michiko.

my review could be very extremely biased, though. sorry for ending on this note LOL. i love identity v so so much and i’ve invested myself in these doll characters way too much, so actually getting to watch my favourite characters TALK to each other, be part of each other’s stories, it may have slightly skewed my perception of of the play. of course, it isn’t without faults, but to anyone who loves idv, who loves mary especially, this is a must watch. i genuinely mean the praises i’ve given to this stage play and i do not regret spending my money on this.

i’ll watch the survivor side and the comedy stages eventually and i don’t know if i’ll be making reviews for those but i just had to talk about the hunter side.

thank you so much to the creators of this stage, to all the wonderful talented actors, and a big thank you to the new writers. this was more than i could’ve asked for.

hoping for a stage 4 with mary’s return xx

[consumedkings-archive]

THE LAND OF GODS AND DEVILS, a sequel.

—part i.

word count: 6k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, massively canon-divergent, roman gets his own tag because he's a fucking nutso, canon-typical violence, established relationship that might not be the healthiest, age gap, domestic murder family. for this chapter in specific, roman likes to take things to the Extreme (i.e., "i'm going to fucking kms if you say this word one more time") but if you're here i imagine you know exactly what he's about.

notes: it's here! i know that most of my followers and friends on here are my friends through my far cry 5 content, but my return to the fic-writing world was inspired by my first longfic in a decade after watching birds of prey. you could say, perhaps, that i have a Type(TM), given that roman sionis lives rent free in my head forever and always. this is the sequel to my work carry your throne, though i like to think it's fairy user-friendly, especially once we really get into the thick of it.

special thank you goes to my beta and the loml, @starcrier; the first person to ever truly recognize varya for the wretched little beast that she is and love her anyway. thank you for being my beta and for loving my girl!

and, of course, another special thanks goes to @shallow-gravy, @vasiktomis, @faithchel, @tomexraider, and @belorage for being so supportive of my foray out of the far cry fandom and back into one that, in a way, brought me here in the first place!

summary: —by dread things, compelled.

roman sionis is the closest he has ever been to having everything that he wants; a perfect wife, a perfect family, a perfect international black-market arms dealing business signed over to him in its entirety. unfortunately for him, there are people in the world who would prefer to see him without, and that has never been a thing that roman has accepted for himself: being without.

(or: a fic wherein the devil spends his time rebuking sin.)

“If one more person says the word ‘chandelier’ in my presence,” Roman announced, drawing all eyes to him, “I'm going to blow my fucking brains out. Got it?”

There was a brief moment of silence that lapsed before the murmured acquiescence of the workers marked their return to their work. Blowing hot air from his mouth, Roman raked his fingers through his hair and turned back around to where Zsasz was watching him expectantly.

“What?” He demanded. “It’s my wife’s birthday.” Emphasis on the my, not the wife; it was not a favor Roman was doing for Varya, it was something he was doing for himself.

“V told them she wanted it.” Zsasz gestured to the offensive piece of lighting, which continued to haunt Roman’s waking and dreaming hours with its garish crystalline drippings and expensive bulbs. Ever since Varya had found out his fluctuating approval of the chandelier, it had been in and out of the Black Mask Club more times than he could count. Not that he needed to; he could very well put in or rip out a stupid fucking light fixture as many times as he wanted.

“Well.” Roman pulled a glass out from behind the bar, setting it on the top and dropping an ice cube into it. “She does so love to torture me.”

“It's just a—”

“Do you want my fucking guts on the floor, Zsasz? I mean it. Say the word and I’ll do it.”

The blonde regarded him drily. “No, boss.”

“Blood and guts everywhere.” Roman gestured widely with his free hand. “All over the floor. The bar top. You’ll have to clean it up. Maybe wipe down some of the bottles.”

“I won’t say it.”

“I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to get blood out of the carpet.”

Zsasz’s mouth quirked up in a smile. It said, without saying anything at all, no, you don’t. More agreeably, and with the flash of pearly whites and the capped tooth: “Sure.”

Roman poured well over what would have been considered the polite amount of expensive scotch into his glass, capping the bottle and setting it aside. It had been exactly twenty-four hours of making sure the club was perfectly polished and styled for Varya's birthday; though she was shrewd, she was so preoccupied with the twins and the lawyers and overseas business associates that she barely seemed to notice whatever was coming in and out of the Black Mask Club. He didn’t think she’d had a baby nor a phone out of her hands in over two days, and truthfully, it was starting to become tedious. Now that the twins were a little over a year old, they were supposed to be scheduling their honeymoon.

The delay of it hadn’t been a big deal, at the start. But everyday with you feels like my honeymoon, Varya had demurred months before the twins’ arrival, fluttering her lashes and gliding her fingers along the lapel of his jacket—and not even an hour after she’d curtly informed him that any more chatter, while she was nursing a headache, would be met with a swift and efficient extraction of his vocal cords by her own hands. Motherhood was supposed to have domesticated her, Roman thought, and had done the exact opposite; now, she was more assured of her status and power than ever.

So, yes; Varya had been busy, and he was almost certain she’d forgotten her own birthday. Never mind that everything had to be perfect. Never mind that it had to be immaculate. Never mind that Varya had deigned to order a brand new fucking chandelier from the same place they’d gotten one last time, knowing full well that he had made the executive decision to gut the fucking thing and get it out of his club.

“Tell you what, Zsasz,” Roman muttered, taking a swallow of the amber liquid in his glass, “don’t ever get fucking married. You want someone knowing all the shit that pushes your buttons all the time?”

“Maybe you just got a button pusher for a wife.”

Roman grimaced and took another swallow. It was true. “Fuck off.”

The blonde opened his mouth to say something else—and hadn’t he gotten confident in himself too, since Varya had become such a permanent fixture in their life, constantly goading and coercing him to voice his opinion on things, things that normally he would just defer to Roman on—when the doors to the stairwell and the elevator opened.

Eclipsing the doorway was Armazd, Varya’s hand-picked-from-the-batch-of-Russians-left-over-guard. Armazd had to be easily cresting six-foot-five, his dark beard neatly trimmed and peppered with silver, a scar breaking the color of his top lip. Roman had only ever seen the man swathed in dark clothes, like a fucking mourner on parade. His wife had been the one picked to be the twins' nanny, despite the fact that Roman felt like she barely did anything.

Also hand-picked. Thoroughly vetted. Interrogated for hours. No stone left unturned, when it came to Yuli and Ro.

“What are you doing down here?” Roman barked, coming around the side of the bar to make his way across the room. “You’re supposed to be going up and keeping—”

“She is coming down,” Armazd clarified. “In the elevator. Irina called to tell me.”

“Instead of stopping her?”

“She was—”

The elevator dinged in the hallway, and Roman quickly ducked around Armazd and closed the door into the club behind him. As soon as the doors slid open, he planted a smile on his face and closed the distance between himself and his wife.

Nobody would know, looking at Varya, that she not only barely utilized the nanny that they had furiously vetted and now paid handsomely, but that on top of juggling their twins she was actively in the process of getting a massive, international gun-running business signed over in his name. There was not a single hair out of place, not a single crease or rumple in the sapphire-blue silk of her blouse or skirt; the scent of her preferred jasmine perfume followed her like a cloud. She looked as put-together as the day he’d first seen her standing in his club.

And now, he desperately needed her to stay out of it.

“Kitten,” he greeted warmly, his hands—though gloved—immediately scratching the itch by reaching for her; they captured hers to carefully still her procession to the club’s main room. “What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be busy for hours.”

“Yuliana has been fussing nonstop,” Varya replied, her voice light despite what could only have been an expression of frustration quickly following, “all while I listen to grown men fussing nonstop at me on the phone.”

Roman feigned a sympathetic noise, bringing her hands up to his mouth to kiss them. “We have a nanny, V.”

“You know better than anyone else,” the brunette murmured, brushing her nose against his as their hands dropped, “that she is inconsolable without you.”

He tried not to look too pleased. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Don’t be modest, Romy.”

“Well, I’ll come up, of course.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And console our princess.” Another kiss, to the other corner. “So that you can continue letting grown men fuss at you.”

She beamed at him prettily, and finally they met in the middle for a real kiss—nothing coy, nothing demure, but lingering warm and just between the two of them.

“I love you,” she purred. “Go on, then.”

And then Varya pulled away, as though to go around him and into the club, and Roman blinked rapidly. He had only just caught her around the waist before she could walk in and pulled her in a full one-eighty until she was facing the elevator again.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I was just going to make myself a drink.”

“Encouraging productivity,” Roman replied, hitting the button for the elevator doors to open again. “Ready for all this paperwork to be done, aren’t you? It’s been over a year.”

A year of wading through mafia-esque bureaucracy. A year of listening to Varya say, these things take time. A busy year, to be sure, jam-packed full of things—the biggest wedding in Gotham since its founding, the twins.

A funeral.

Roman tried more and more every day not to think about his (now) brother-in-law’s funeral, the double burial of the only man that might have stood a chance at being loved by Varya more than Roman himself and the only man who had ever been anything like a father figure to her. Family is tedious, he’d wanted to say, brothers and fathers and mothers, the whole lot of them, cut them loose why don’t you? Why should anyone matter to you outside of the twins and I?

Varya glanced at him over her shoulder. “These things take time.”

He rolled his eyes. “Mhm.”

“Not to mention, we were a little busy,” she added, eyes narrowing playfully as he nudged her into the elevator, “you know—having children.”

“And what beautiful children they are.” Roman hit the button without looking, the doors sliding shut behind him.

“Well, how am I supposed to suffer through those phone calls without a stiff drink?”

He quirked a brow upward. “I’ll make you a stiff drink, Mrs. Sionis.”

The brunette propped herself up against the back rail of the elevator as it whirred into motion. The corner of her mouth, painted ruby, curved and her head tilted inquisitively. “Oh?”

“Of course,” he demurred, sidling forward and boxing her in against the wall. “I’ll make you a stiff drink—”

He dropped his head to the slope of her jaw to plant a kiss there.

“—you’ll finish up with the lawyers, and put on the dress I bought you—”

Varya hummed and sighed sweetly.

“—we’ll go out to dinner for your birthday—”

He dropped his hands to her hips, planting a kiss on her temple so that he could rumble, “And we can get to work on baby number three, hm?”

A sweet laugh billowed out of her just as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open to bring to Roman the oh-so-sweet sounds of a caterwauling infant. Over the distressed crying was Irina’s voice, shushing and cooing dulcet words in Russian; he could see her swaying to and fro with a swathe of fabric bundled in her arms.

“I almost forgot about my birthday,” Varya said thoughtfully, completely unrattled by the sound of their daughter’s distress. She stepped out from between him and the elevator wall; Roman fell into step beside her easily, the sound of her heels clipping against the floor enough to draw Irina’s eyes to them.

Roman said, “I know you did,” and did not bother to hide his smugness as he held out his arms for the shrieking baby in Irina’s arms. The redhead regarded him with a sort of weary amusement before she acquiesced; with Yuliana safely in his arms, he watched Varya cross the room to turn the automatic rocker that held their son back on to a slow, lulling pace. The freckled infant babbled happily—ever the quieter of the twins—and as Varya said something to Irina in Russian that inspired the woman to depart to the kitchen, she absently picked up a baby blanket from the couch and wandered over to him.

“Yuli,” she murmured, waving her finger at the already-content infant, tucking the blanket around her “is that all you wanted, hm? Just for your papa to hold you?”

“What else could she want for?” he replied confidently. Soothing Yuliana’s fury had become old-hat for him at this point. And, certainly, it pleased him to know that sometimes, the only thing that would make his daughter stop screaming was being held by him. Not even Varya—who had taken to motherhood like a fish to water—bothered when she was in a fit.

Still, the brunette sighed dreamily, her finger captured by their daughter’s tiny hand before she said, “What a perfect little gem.”

Roman hummed his agreement. “Finishing that call with the lawyers?”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Varya replied. “They’re in a mood today.”

“They’re in a mood every day.” Russians, he thought venomously.

“Yes.” She smiled, flashing pearly teeth at him. “But only today is my birthday.”

She had him there. Still, he was itching for the whole thing to be done—Ilarion had dragged his feet through the process of even drawing up the original contract, which had only been a spit in his face (“You are the only person who gets to fuck Varya Astakhova, that is as exclusive as it gets”) and by the time all of that nasty business had been wrapped up, Ilarion was dead.

Ilarion, and Nikita—leaving only a single living soul to be in charge of the Astakhov empire: Varya herself.

Which, she had expressed time and time again, she had no desire for; not in the public way that her father had done it, and Ilarion after them. She much preferred the clerical work of it all. Paperwork and public relations. Let the men do men’s work, she’d demurred one night, tangled up in their sheets, when he’d asked her what she was going to do with it. I don’t mind. They like me better as their madonna, anyway.

“You know,” she continued, breaking him out of his thoughts as she made her way to the bar cart, pouring herself a drink, “they will like you more if it’s you they’re talking to.”

“I don’t give a fuck if they like me or not,” Roman replied, lifting Yuliana with both of his hands so that he could look at her. “Isn’t that right, princess? Mommy gets to do all the paperwork so that your papa can spend all of his time with you, instead of listening to some dumbfucks bitch and moan on the phone.” He glanced at her. “Well, anyway, since it’s your birthday we can let it slide.”

“Very generous of you.”

“Get dressed, won’t you?” he prompted, depositing his now-content daughter in the mobile swing with her brother. “The table’s been ready for us since noon.”

Varya watched him, dark eyes glittering amusedly. “And why, my darling, did you make the reservation for noon? It’s nearly six now.”

“Because,” he replied, “I wanted to make sure they held it, regardless of how long it took us to get there.”

“Ah.” She lifted her chin a little, lashes fluttering with contentment when he reached up and brushed the hair from her face. “Or else?”

Roman flashed her a grin.

“Or else.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They held the table.

“Good for them,” Roman said as they followed the server out onto the balcony. The table had clearly been refreshed—a new candle, a new vase, a new bucket of ice and bottle of champagne. He’d heard the waitstaff whispering furiously among themselves as they idled in the lobby to be taken to their table; now, settled across from the birthday girl, Roman was content with the way they had squirmed.

“Quicker than the two-hour wait last time,” Varya noted by way of agreement, smoothing her hand along the edge of the tablecloth.

He scoffed. The only reason they had waited in the lobby for two hours was because Varya had asked him to stay for the table she wanted. If it had been his way, they would have left with a bloody warning and gone somewhere else. “I can’t believe I finally convinced you to leave the twins home for a night and we got stuck sitting in that fucking lobby because they gave our table away.”

“In my defense, they are good babies, Romy. Hardly ever cry. Certainly not too much trouble.”

“But there’s two of them,” he replied, “and toting two babies around is a lot of work. All I’m saying is, what’s the point of paying her that much fucking money if we’re just going to—”

The waiter came by the table, clearly a little stressed; the lines of concern on his face were clear as he cleared his throat and said, “Should I come back?”

Varya, perusing the menu: “No, my darling, you may stay. You were saying, Romy?”

“I just don’t know why we’re shoveling money into her bank account for her to be a glorified accent chair in our house rather than a nanny.” Roman gestured to the champagne bottle expectantly. “Open it.”

The waiter did as he asked, having been standing there uncomfortably for a moment during their exchange. As he worked to carefully open the champagne bottle, Roman turned his attention back to Varya; her eyes remained on the menu, absently twisting the engagement and wedding band on her finger back and forth.

There was no way, he thought, that she was putting off getting the business signed over to him on purpose. Surely, there was no way; even when Ilarion was alive, even when she had anticipated no further problems, it had always been, if you’re going to be my romantic partner, it seems only right you’d be my partner in business too, don’t you think? And yet—

And yet, Roman could not push down the strange, hazy doubt that occasionally flickered through his mind. He had always wanted Varya, had always found himself wanting and wanting and wanting more and more often, and Varya had always seemed content to indulge him. There was, it seemed, nothing she enjoyed more than indulging him. One more kiss, one more minute in bed, one more lingering glance across the room. She was the absolute pinacle of his hedonism, in every sense of the word, and had proven time and time again that she would give him anything that he wanted.

The business had always been for her and Ilarion. He wanted it, and told her he did, and she said, you can have it, if you like, but like in all things, there was a slyness about his wife—a cruelty—that he found endearing and dangerous. Dangerous, because it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been on the other end of her cruel nature, playfully poking and unwinding and tugging the thread loose until she had pushed him to the limit.

Something echoed in his head, and he realized that the waiter was asking him what he wanted to eat. Varya had handed the menu over and steepled her fingers, watching him with dark, curious eyes and red painted lips, sooty lashes fluttering. A pretty, painted little snake.

“I’ll take whatever she’s having,” Roman said after a moment, setting his menu aside and returning his attention to the brunette across from him. “Something interesting, kitten?”

“Can I not just appreciate my husband?” Varya demurred. “You’re wearing the suit I like best, after all.”

“It is your birthday. What greater gift is there than me?”

She laughed, delighted by him—as she always was—and took a sip of her champagne. “You were away from me, for a moment.”

He watched her, gauging her carefully. Even I know not to drop my pants when a viper opens its mouth, Bianchi had said, just before Varya had unloaded six rounds into his face and chest less than two feet away from him.

“Just thinking,” is what Roman said finally.

“Hm. A dangerous past time.”

His expression flattened, deadpan. “It’s taken a significant chunk of time to secure your father’s business in my name.”

Something flickered across Varya’s expression. at the word father. “To secure my business,” Varya replied, her voice abrupt and cutting, her eyes narrowed, “in your name.” Absently, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked to be composing herself, like she’d spoken on a knee-jerk reaction rather than with thinking.

Then, glossy and silken again: “You know your patience means the world to me, Romy.”

There was nothing that he loved more than watching her pull back her venom for him. Drumming his fingers against the top of the table, Roman bridled his own irritation to say, mildly, “I’d do anything for you. Even wait...” He made a thoughtful noise. “Over a year to finally take on the responsiblities you wanted handed over to me.”

“Of course.” Varya smiled prettily, absently straightening out her silverware. “And we will speak no more of my father on my birthday, or any day after this.”

He knew what that meant. She phrased it pretty, wrapped it up in silk and velvet and presented it to him as unassuming as a doe, but he knew what that meant. There is my button, she was saying, there is my trip wire. Don’t push it, Roman. The name Nikita had all but been banned in their household, even when funeral arrangements were being made; any time he’d heard one of the lawyers mention her father’s name, there had been a sharp rebuke. Not in my presence, she would tell him later, I do not want to hear that fucking name in my presence.

“At any rate, there is nothing that I want more than for this whole process to be done,” she continued lightly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “It was always what I wanted, you know. Ilya was better suited to be a functional piece of the business; he was the face because he had to be, not because he wanted to be, and I am better suited for the nitpicking and the details. Being the overseer is much more in your circle of talents, Romy.”

Her words assauged something unsettled and prickly in him, the sweep of the pad of her thumb across the back of his hand returning that doubtful monster in his mind back to its slumber. He sighed.

“You’re right,” he acquiesced after a moment, “it is more in my circle of talents.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I always got the impression Ilarion wasn’t happy with it,” he added. “Though you two certainly enjoyed making work of me that first night, didn’t you?”

Varya smiled demurely. “It was never meant to make work of you, only to make a good impression.”

“Hm,” he replied, eyes narrowing playfully, “but you enjoy pushing me, V.”

She looked pleased. She always did, when he remarked on something that felt like he was really seeing her, beneath the glossy veneer. His girl did so love being seen.

“Only,” V demurred, “because you so enjoy reining me in.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Roman brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before relinquishing it and glancing around. He would just have to exercise patience, of which he had the most; patience, modesty, and humility, all excellent qualities that he could participate in at will, at any given time. Without any restraint.

“Did the men get the chandelier installed?” Varya idled, snapping his attention back to her. He narrowed his eyes.

“I told you I didn’t want a chandelier anymore.”

She looked at him across the table, dark doe eyes wide and innocent. “I thought you liked how polished they make the club.”

“No, you little viper,” Roman replied, clicking his tongue, “Paolo has a chandelier in his club, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to have people comparing it.”

“Ah,” she murmured, “the drama of the chandelier goes on.”

“And while we’re at it, might as well gut that one from the estate, too.”

“There’s more than one chandelier in there.”

“Then the men will be busy, won’t they?” He tsked his tongue. “I know you dream about watching me blow my top, V, but I’m making an executive decision on gaudy light fixtures.”

A smile flashed across her expression, pearly teeth and delighted eyes. She sighed, almost dreamily, like there was nothing more that she liked than to be doing this exact thing, and with him.

“Oh, Romy,” the brunette said sweetly, “you are the only thing I dream about.” And then, almost as an after thought: “Gaudy light fixture terrorism included.” She waved her hand to dismiss any protest or rebuttal he might have given her and said, “Now, since it’s my birthday, tell me all of the things you love the most about me.”

Roman sucked his teeth, eyeing her for a moment as he leaned back in the chair. Wicked little thing, waiting to preen and glow under his attention, a feline seeking him out. Her little bout of cruelty before was already forgiven. He said, “We’re going to be here for a while, if I do that.”

“They held the table for over six hours,” Varya demurred, “I’m sure they’ll hold it for as many more as you need.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time they got to the club, Varya was acting as though nothing had happened.

Truthfully, Roman preferred it that way. It just also left a lot of room to wonder—his wife was a talented actress, adept at smoothing his ruffled feathers out and not divulging her own feelings on the matter. And he wouldn’t ask, of course. If Varya wanted to express herself, she would, and had, quite openly in the past.

“I am so happy to be home,” she announced, gliding past the door to the club once Roman had opened it for her. “Do you think the babies are asleep, yet? I always miss putting them...”

Her voice trailed off, pausing a little as she seemed to realize that the club was cloaked in inky darkness, freezing just a few steps past the threshold. Roman let the door swing shut behind him, nudging her forward with a hand at the small of her back. He was met with some resistance; she steeled, stiffening against his insistence, before taking a few steps forward.

He said, barely keeping the delight out of his voice, “You’re holding up the line, V.”

“Roman,” Varya said, her voice pitched oddly soft and tight, “why—?”

The lights flashed on to a loud, unified cheer of Happy Birthday!; the club had been packed with vases of flowers, the tables donned with food and drink, and everyone worth their salt within a fifty-mile radius had made their way there. Not a single thing was out of place—everything exactly where he had instructed it be placed, and not a fucking chandelier in sight.

Roman came around in front of the brunette, grinning. “Happy—”

He stopped. Varya’s expression was not happy, or even surprised; it was something else, something that he couldn’t read, the pupils of her hot-whiskey eyes blown wide and the normally Renaissance-soft lines of her face sharpened and hardened into an expression that was more vicious.

“V?” he asked. Her eyes snapped to him, and for a second she looked the same way she had that night in the loft, her hands drenched in blood and the kitchen knife clutched in her fist with bodies at her feet: like she didn’t recognize him.

It took a heartbeat, but her expression smoothed out and she smiled, almost sheepish—like she’d been caught doing something naughty, instead of being caught being somewhere else. Someone else, more the wolf than the girl.

“The lights,” she explained, hands resting on his chest, “they startled me, is all.”

A frown creased his expression. He brought his hands up to hold her wrists, thumb pressed against her pulse point. It fluttered unsteadily. Unconvinced, Roman pressed, “The lights?”

“Just the lights,” Varya assured him. She tilted her head up and kissed him, one hand departing his jacket to go to the back of his neck—and when she kissed him, he could feel that strange little flicker of energy, like she’d been stamping something out before it could catch, but it still vibrated under her skin.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she disentangled from him and swept around to the crowd of people waiting, beaming prettily and playing at bashfulness, as though she did not enjoy their eyes on her and did not soak their attention up like a flower did sunlight. Whatever had been plaguing her in that moment was now gone, and she was awash with attention and love, thanking people profusely and accepting each hug and cheek-kiss directed her way.

Roman brushed off the odd feeling that she wasn’t being as forthcoming with him as he would have preferred—no secrets anymore, isn’t that what they’d agreed on?—and instead waded into the crowd. Music kicked on overhead; chatter picked up to a warm humming around them; there was nothing else to think about except letting his girl enjoy her birthday celebration.

By the time Varya had made a suitable number of rounds (which tended to verge much higher than one, much to Roman’s chagrin—what tedious work, to share her with everyone else), she had barely sipped the glass of champagne someone had planted in her hand. She circled back to him eventually; like always, there was that pinprick tugging in the cavity of his chest, like they were bound by a single thread that kept them from parting too much and too quickly, and when she drew closer to him again it oozed relief, warm and vibrant, through his ribs.

“Sufficiently loved on?” he asked as she neared, hand reaching up to slide around her waist.

“By them? Certainly.” The brunette’s hand smoothed along his shoulder, the pad of her thumb gliding across the velvet of his jacket. “By you, though, not hardly. Not ever.”

“You are insatiable,” Roman agreed in a rumble. He splayed his fingers against the small of her back, tugging her in closer and brushing their noses together.

“Just for you,” Varya murmured, and the words brushed their lips together just a little—but everything with Varya, like this, felt like almost-kissing, enough to push him to some kind of edge where his stomach twisted and wrenched with want when she added, “And only for you.”

“You know I can’t resist you when you talk like that.”

She laughed, leaning in to set her glass to the side and curl her fingers into his shirt for a kiss; everything for a second felt normal, and good, and right again, the strange way she’d gone-away back in the doorway having disappeared, the dark cloud over her having cleared, her wretchedness from dinner dissipated.

And Roman kissed her, with the sound of the party chatter ringing in his ears, and kissed her with the faint taste of champagne flooding his senses when she parted her lips against his, and kissed her while his hand fisted the fabric of her dress and he managed out in a voice rough with want, “So you’re trying to rile me up.”

“I always,” Varya murmured against his mouth silkily, “want you riled, Romy.”

“Varya?”

A stranger’s voice filtered through the haze—the rose-colored one that usually accompanied Varya saying anything like she wanted him riled up—and Roman felt the irritation spike straight through it. He turned to look at the interruption at the same time that Varya did, only to find a young, handsome blonde standing just a foot away.

Varya said, sounding faint, “Maxim?”

“It has been a while,” the blonde said, and he sounded sheepish. “I called Armazd, asking after you—”

“Sorry,” Roman interjected briskly, fingers still curled—now possessively—into the fabric of Varya’s dress against the dip of her spine, “but who are you?”

His wife started to say, “Romy, this is—” at the same time that the man began, “I am sorry, my name—” and they both stopped at the same time, a strange little silence stretching between them.

“Maxim,” Varya said after a second, turning to look at Roman now. “This is Maxim. He is Artyem’s son.”

Roman stared at her, more to buy himself time than anything; she said the name like he was supposed to know who that was. Artyem, but it didn’t sound familiar. Almost any Russian name sounded like gibberish to him, and if Varya had said it to him, it had been in passing, an afterthought, nothing but a whisper of information passed between them before it was gone again.

Until it did. Until he remembered that the person Varya had thought was her father had actually been Artyem, that she’d poisoned him, let him bleed to death on the carpet while she had mentally checked out of the moment. That she had watched him die, but she had been somewhere else—someplace else, the way Ilarion had described it, very far away where she couldn’t even enjoy what she’d done fully.

And Maxim—golden, and polished, and clean-shaven—looked awfully pleasant for someone whose farther had choked to death on his own blood because of Varya.

“I see,” Roman said, even though he didn’t. His gaze turned to Maxim. “And you’ve—shown up without calling ahead?”

“I have been in Turkey,” Maxim explained, “finishing up some business, and I did not know how to get in touch—”

“Well, you spoke with Armazd, didn’t you?” Roman’s head tilted. “The man practically sleeps in our bed, I imagine he would have been happy to get you in contact with us.”

“Admittedly,” Maxim said, “I wanted it to be a surprise—”

No, Roman thought absently, venomously, that won’t do at all.

“—Varya’s birthday—”

“So you slunk in,” Roman elaborated tartly, “like a little street dog, hm?”

“Maxi,” Varya interjected, fingers absently tracing the stitching on Roman’s jacket, “why don’t you go get a drink and acquaint yourself with our friends? Armazd is just there—you see?”

Maxim’s eyes darted between her and Roman for a minute. He shifted on his feet, tilting and giving a little smile that might have liked abashed if Roman didn’t think he saw a little squirm of self-satisfaction in his gaze. Fucker.

“Of course,” the blonde replied after a moment. “C dnyom razhdyenyem, Varushka.” He took a step forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Varya’s thumbnail dug into the lapel of Roman’s jacket. “Thank you, Maxi.”

Once the blonde had departed, linking up with Armazd in the crowd to get introduced, Roman straightened up from the bar. It was impossible not to stare at this newcomer—he glowed with an easy charisma, flashed bright smiles that were all teeth. Roman hated him already.

“Maxi?” he asked her, eyes narrowed, and Varya sighed. He waited for her to elaborate. Perhaps she’d say they had dated once, perhaps they were literally nothing. That would be ideal, after all. Ships passing in the night.

She said, “We grew up together.”

Even worse. Roman twisted a loose, dark curl of hers around his finger. “And you killed his father.”

“Well—” She paused, mouth pressing into a thin line. “He does not know.”

“He doesn’t—” The notion that she was keeping secrets, and not from him, coiled high and happy in his throat. He tried not to sound too delighted when he said, “V, surely he knows.”

“Surely he does not, that I did it. Only that it happened. And I will keep it that way,” she added firmly, picking up her champagne glass from the bar top. “Maxim was incredibly loyal to my father because Artyem was, but more than that—he was mine and Ilya’s friend. I’m sure he is missing Ilya almost as much as I am.”

“As we all are,” Roman agreed sagely, planting a kiss on her temple in spite of the dry look she gave him. It was hard to tell, to get a read on this Maxim. What was it he’d dragged himself out of the trenches for? Just to fly halfway across the world to wish Varya a happy birthday? Above all things, Roman understood that his wife was a desirable thing, and knowing that he kept her out of the reach of others was part of her appeal—but that much? Could someone who was just a friend want that much?

He continued, “So what is it that Maxim offers to the business, hm?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Varya demurred, which didn’t sound at all like the truth. “Artyem was the one who sent him out on jobs. My father kept things tight around the top, you know. If anyone would know what it was Maxim was up to in Turkey who wasn’t my father or Artyem, it would have been Ilarion.”

“I find it hard to believe you have no idea what your father was using someone for.”

The sound of delighted commentary drew both of their eyes away; Irina had come down, both dark-haired infants in her arms, and was walking them toward Varya and Roman. Murmured remarks on what could only be their cuteness passed throughout the crowd of party-goers.

“I am putting them down for bed,” Irina announced as she approached, “and I know you like to say goodnight.”

“Oh, you are an angel,” Varya murmured, glass set aside once again. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to baby Ro’s cheek. Yuliana babbled, and she sighed dreamily, “Have you ever seen more perfect babies, Roman?”

Perfect babies, a perfect wife; soon, he would even have the perfect grip on Gotham’s neck, throttling it until it was nothing but dust and ash. Soon, but not soon enough; he’d be content when it was just done and settled, when there was nothing else standing between him and everything that he wanted. Varya, and the guns—what an odd thing, to know that a year ago he’d set out for this and it was just falling into his lap.

“Romy?”

“Never,” Roman replied, smiling and glancing back at his wife, reaching and cradling the back of Yuli’s head. “I’ve never seen more perfect babies, V.”

Across the room, Maxim watched them. There was something about it that Roman didn’t like—the way his eyes flickered, the way he looked between the children and Varya, the way their eyes met and he didn’t deflect away. Like he didn’t mind getting caught. Where had he come from? What little shithole had he crawled out of, over a year after Nikita’s death and Ilarion’s death—longer, still, since his father’s death? Hadn’t he wondered what had happened to his father?

What are you doing here, he thought venomously, that you think you can just come in here like nothing? Like I won’t root you out like the little rat you are?

Maxim smiled. It was a polite smile, unassuming kind of smile.

Roman picked up his drink from the counter, taking a heavy swallow. Suddenly, the evening seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of him, no finish line in sight.

Nothing else standing between me and everything I want.

And he was going to keep it that way.

[border-spam]

Does troy really have a split jaw or is that fanon?

It's total fanon!

The design of the split lines across his cheekbones and chin coupled with the cheek clips and v shaped hinge outline next to his ears lead to a lot of people coming to that same outcome, that there is something up with his mouth from a prosthetic/mod standpoint.

So much of his design is never mentioned once or referenced in any way (hightech spinal rig with tattoos under it, neuro connector, mech arm that's much older and doesn't seem related to the spine and neuroport, implants on bicep, face mod etc) that like Tyreen's scars and possible lower body Siren markings, fandom took over when it came to coming up with logical explanations for 'em.

This actually touches ground with some Ao3 comments I wanted to share as they are all Leech Lord compliant, so I'll list them here alongside links to the fics they were related to (note warnings!)

You leave no avenue for characterization unexplored. Troy's facial prostheses finally receiving backstory is amazing

- Maw (Gore/Bodyhorror)

I LOVE the idea of it being not just decorative shit on his face, but my MO for any content I make is always based around asking why, over and over, and trying to make sense of what material I'm using in the first place. The modded mouth is a popular piece of fanon but you know... why? Why would he do that shit to himself. WHY would he want to be grotesque, why would he be chasing the reaction people would have to it when canonically he seems to really not be interested in fan attention the same way Tyreen is, what's the difference to him between being adored as his persona or being lusted after as a monster, etc. I just love deep-diving into the logic behind character and world building? It's what adds meat to the bone for me.

Big 'ol character and worldbuilding / lore responses list under the cut -

He could afford better robots but these ones UNDERSTAND Ty, don't you get it?

- Good night in (tooth rotting fluff)

Hey just because it's mangled and broken, and can't perform its intended function to a degree expected of it by everyone around it... and it's got rusty sharp bits it accidentally hurts you with sometimes... and it's cranky but it doesn't mean it... and sometimes it errors out in a way that's mildly disturbing in a way you can't place.. uh.. doesn't mean you should just GIVE UP ON IT you know? He can fix them :) They will be fine :) No one should just throw away something that's trying so hard just because it's damaged... haha... :')

It's so hard seeing how much they tear each other down when they're the only thing they have left. And what a poor self-image Tyreen has beyond all that glitter and bluster...

- Wolf in sheep's clothing

The twins function well enough as a unit till tensions rise, and I was trying to seed in The Leech's influence on them in earlier work like this too - towards anyone else Ty would become MORE aggressively confident, more assured in her complete and utter dominance of the situation, her flawlessness, but against Troy who see's her for what she is, it turns inwards and eats at her instead of lashing outwards. He switches from relatively submissive around her to almost surgical levels of dissection, he knows exactly how to go for the jugular with words, and doesn't hold back. She's The Leech's mouth but he's its eyes and it's only when they lose control emotionally enough for it to claw to the surface of their psyches that you get an idea of how much it really affects them individually. GB had an absolute goldmine on their hands here of cosmic/body horror and the concept of toxic family when all you have is each other, there's so much to work with, and I figure it's a factor in why some people still really enjoy messing around with Calypso content.

I like how you allow Troy to be a disabled character, how his congenital defects and prosthetics colour his outlook and appear in ways big and small in all these vignettes. It's easy, I think, to see him as largely untroubled by his health apart from when he needs a charge from Tyreen in the game, but you allow him to struggle with his weakness.

- Chronic (Drug use)

I'm really glad to hear that's coming through in the writing because it's something I noticed a lot too. Very often when Troy, or other characters canonically disabled / chronically unwell are written it's "told" and not "shown". Chronic pain, illness, it's not something that is just a little tickbox in a life or some descriptive terms added to a character synopsis, it's something you live and deal with. There are bad days. There are times it is a negative that has to be worked around or faced in ways that aren't pleasant. It doesn't make you lesser or weak to have times where illness does leave you unable to function to a level you want to, it's not a failure for you to be unable to perform tasks when a disability or flair up means it's not viable. I feel personally that by showing scenes like this where his health and body issues do have a very visceral and impossible to ignore the effect on his ability to function, and going through his mental processes of dealing with and managing them, it brings the character across as stronger than if he never seemed to be shown dealing with symptoms or weaknesses. People are more than their disabilities and conditions, those aren't just kinda taglines to add onto a character's description and then never address. I feel like doing that in a way undermines what people deal with who manage chronic illness, pain, and who have disabilities that affect their daily lives negatively. Appreciating the effort it takes to manage them is important.

What I really like about these is that you can really understand as a reader how their dynamic must have evolved. How even before Leda's death Tyreen would have felt demonized while Troy got the attention because of his condition, because he was less willful.

- Starlight, Moonbright

Ah man, absolutely - and that shit stayed with them. It wasn't his fault and he never wanted it, but of course their parents would have had their extremely ill child at the forefront of their thoughts, especially during weeks when he was.. bad. Tyreen by nature even without The Leech's influence is a little attention seeker, she'd be the life of any party and she BLOSSOMS if she's got the spotlight, but as a little kid who's got literally no one but her parents and her brother, and who all three of which can't give her nearly as much time as she deserved? That's rough. That's really unfair. That coupled with The Leech's warping effect on their egos as they grew up and the bitterness and resentment they harbored in different ways created a reverse dynamic. She'd never be out of the Galaxy's attention again, and he'd have no choice but to take his rightful place in her shadow.

I love how you illustrate both how much more, and yet how much less Troy is now. How the blameless child, full of potential, is inextricably linked to the brutal, larger-than-life avatar he fashions.

- DeLeon ( Graphic Violence / Gore / Hallucinations)

He's molded the monster he is now out of the bones of the man he should have been - there's no going back really. There's nothing left to go back to. He broke Troy DeLeon apart to build the persona that acts like an iron lung now, suffocating him breath by breath while forcing him to still take them. That life is over, he killed it before it had a chance, but the idea of it is still there in his subconscious. Somewhere in the absolute trainwreck of Troy's brain is the tiny, flickering belief that maaaaaybe one day this will all be over and he can shuck off the bracer and spines, peel off all the shit he's covered his skin with, and just go back to not being Calypso. DeLeon here isn't some aspect of his mental state or his sins haunting him - it's The Leech, spitting venom at a host it loathes in something that's not sound or comprehensible language. His subconscious has just translated it into something it can understand - his greatest regret.

On if Borderlands Humans originated on Earth -

There's a really tenuous link between BL verse and rEarth, but it's there and can't be ignored. The cultures, accents, terminologies, so many are Earth specific despite these people being spread across galaxies, so hell yes - Earth as an emergence point makes total sense. The next question then, is why is it never mentioned - and you can cover for that with a lot of things like say, tt was so long ago that it's not relevant to anything that would ever be discussed, or it could be a mass evacuation from a catastrophe there is little record of now. I like to go with something along those lines, that the first human Siren host emergence on earth just absolutely decimated the planet. Like, we were doing fine till this random woman somewhere in the ass-end of nowhere develops weird markings overnight, then goes apocalyptic. The first Leech maybe, not understanding her powers and having them rip across continents in a spread of crackling electric death that only left husked shells of plants and animals in its wake, or the first Firehawk who went nuclear and burned the sky, or the first Voidgrasp who lost control and began to collapse the planet's core - some extreme shit that had humans fleeing en masse with barely any preparation and HUGE swathes of history and knowledge left behind. That would cover so many social things surviving into the BL verse, cultures, accents, cooking, that shit comes with us regardless of what we were able to throw into escape ships. Like so much data would be stored on any tech and data arrays within the vessels people would use to leave a dying planet even in an insane rush, but that shit waters down over time - if you're farming barely edible plants on some planet that smells like farts, are you really gonna be that stressed about teaching your kids history from a lost planet when your current concerns are not being eaten by something with 19 legs and 4 buttholes? Don't think so.

On if the other Siren entities are as influential to their hosts as The Leech -

I touch on it a wee bit throughout LL, but the others are FAR more passive and meld more to their host's whims. The Firehawk Siren wouldn't.. like.. care? If the host was burning down a planet or fighting off an evil corporation? They are removed from any nonsense happening on this side, they might not even really be able to tell, it's like asking an amoeba or a collection of sentient atomic particles what its opinion is on Brexit. That's not really its priority. The Leech is so aggressive in its control of the twins and desperation to drive them towards an outcome it desires only cause it's split, broken, removed from the song, and completely lost. We're talking a caged, half-mad animal removed from its natural environment and left totally isolated from its own kind for millennia. It's in pain, it's confused, it wants to find its way back to the song and the others and where it belongs, but it's stopped by a barrier it can't comprehend ( the twins and being ripped between them), so in its impotent rage it feeds back that hatred onto them. It's not really sentient in the way we would describe functional intelligence, but it wants, and craves, and FEELS. And it feels very, very angry.

Big thanks to @undergoingcalibrations for talking through so much of this with me!

Asks are Open!

[goldafterglow]

the glimmer of my eye

Summary: Din Djarin, a brothel worker in a small cottage town, services a client he is extremely familiar with.

Pairing: farmer!Daddy!Jack Daniels x brothel worker!little!Din Djarin

Word Count: a little baby 1.5k+

Warnings: 18+/NC-17 ONLY, lmafdsgfjdkhgs yikes this is short little whirlwind, mlm, i will repeat this is a Man loving a Man a lot, anal, Dd/lb, barns, sex work

A/N: y’all fucking asked remember that shit Y’ALL FUCKING ASKED (also the best way to picture this au is like the cottagecore! au, except the cottage is a brothel, but if you’re not familiar then this should still be enjoyable I hope!)

Gif Credit: my love and angel @mrpascals​

“Could…I see?”

His eyes swirl with tree rings, dark and charred as though he’s walked through fires just to reach this bed, reach him. The farmer smiles shyly, a bashfulness he isn’t familiar with that stings his cheek when he curls his now-swollen lip. He looks down to where the boy’s cheek is pressed to his chest, warmth he’s felt before and yet somehow never known until this moment.

“The barn?” he asks, voice soft but still in disbelief. That hadn’t been his intention when he’d started rattling off about it. It was a boring space, more of a hayloft considering how empty it was compared to the animal barn. There wasn’t much in it but hay, seed, and open space. So much space.

“Big windows,” he explains meekly, and Jack could swear his eyes are starting to shiver the way they do when he wants something, the way they do when he’s about to beg. His right hand glides up the side of the boy’s body from his hip to his jaw, the cracks of his dry thumb scratching against his stubble.

“My boy, I just don’t wanna get your hopes all up in a twist,” Jack insists. But then he looks down again and Din is batting his eyes, lashes thick and curling to the tip as they flit in the softened clementine glow of the bedside lamp. He jokes that for as much money he spends just to be with his sweet boy, he always seems to be the one getting what he wants. But he knows that’s what he’s buying, just a chance to give, a chance to make Din smile and need him as deeply as he needs Din. And it’s always been worth it.

“Alright, alright,” Jack concedes. The bright smile that spreads across his kiss-swollen lips is blinding but priceless, something Jack couldn’t fish out the cash for if he wanted to. “I’ll bring you next morning, how’s that sound?”

“Anything, Daddy,” he begs.

“I’ll show ya, baby,” he assures, leaning down until he feels the gentle knock of his worn forehead. His nose falls right into the crook of his face, a dark haven where he can feel the tips of lashes brush against his cheek. “When the sun shines right through them big windows. They wouldn’t mind if I stole ya for a morning, would they? They know I’m just over yonder, I’ll getcha back in a tick.”

Din smiles at the thought of you.

He can already hear the hefty argument - “Sweet boy, the whole morning? You’d better treat him right; that poor man adores you like no one else. You should’ve seen his big puppy eyes when he saw you that first time in the market, oh I knew he’d like you from the moment I met him. Why don’t you take a few blankets? It gets cold around this time of year and I don’t want you shivering back home to me.” There isn’t a thing you love more than when people love on your loves.

“They won’t mind,” Din whispers, the bubbled edges of a giggle tracing his words.

“I’ll make it so special for you,” Jack says enthusiastically, his mind racing as tides sweep through his mind and begin to pool. “I could feed you breakfast fresh from the farm, there ain’t nothing like them eggs still warm from the hen house. I still have some of them orange squashes, I remember you folk would just about buy me out every week. Do you still like them? I got another-”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Din interrupts.

The tide falls.

His chin juts up gently, mouth capturing his in the sweetness of berries that squirt syrup in his mouth and the lace of cotton sugar that sew between their lips, binding them. Suddenly the lamp light becomes fuzzy, the sheets feeling blurry, and through his closed eyes he can see nothing else but a boy with a throbbing heart, aching for his attention and coated in rose petal embers. He does not pull away, his mouth pressed to his in a way that feels so haphazard and mindless that he basks in it.

“I’d do anything for you.”

—

The golden boy.

He is adored; adorable. And he must know it when he looks up at the farmer with his big brown eyes, must know it when he runs his tender, calloused fingers through his soft tufts of chestnut hair like cupping clouds of fizzing sea foam. His voice drips like molasses when he speaks; Din loves it that way. Slow, smooth, pulling away in thin cords that hold everything together in tight, sturdy ribbons.

Sweet.

The boy loves hearing him talk, more than most. The farmer hadn’t believed it at first, wasn’t used to the special attention. But the first time he ever asked, said, “Will you tell me to?” all shy, Jack had seen the stars sparkle in his eyes like splintered flecks of golden flames spraying from lightning.

Still, as he runs his hand up his back and presses the tip of his cock into him, he wonders if that’s when he’d gone sweet on him.

“Feel alright, baby?” he grunts, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the column of his spine. Din has little willpower like this, cock strained from all the grinding he’d been put through on the rough denim of his Farmer’s jeans, and he gasps when Jack presses a little further.

“D-daddy,” he whines as he feels himself begin to stretch even more, feels something thick and heavy fill him up just how he likes.

“You’re doin’ so good for me, baby,” Farmer Daniel coos, sinking the thickness of him into the warmth of his body. “Take me all the way baby, I know you can. Just like that sweet boy.”

He is drowned out by whimpers and the light creaking of wood from Din’s strong fingers gripping the edge of the smooth wooden support beam where Jack had him bent over. Jack always fills him good, he thinks. Daddy always makes me feel good.

“Good boy,” Jack purrs as his hips press into the plush of Din’s ass, balls deep. He’s stretched out plenty, been stretched out so many times before, but he could swear he feels tighter this morning. Something holding him, clamping down like soft feather talons to keep him here if he has to claw at him with his last fleeting breath.

But his golden boy doesn’t need all of that, not when Farmer Daniel’s had been so taken by him from the moment he’d laid eyes on him.

The window in the barn faces the East, to the right of the world, his world. The sunlight only just creeps through, sweet slivers like bronze streamers tossed across the open space, across the caramel oak and right onto his back. Jack runs a hand up into his hair, palming his scalp as the tip of his cock presses deeper into him.

And then he looks back.

His breath catches in his throat when they lock eyes, deep pools of roasted honey that spill down his tongue and coat his throat. He looks sculpted, impossible, and the farmer’s face melts down into a vast blankness like the space between stars.

“Fuck me Daddy.”

Jack quirks a smile, leaning down and over him to press his face into his. He sometimes wonders if there was any sweetness before him, has tried to remember the eons he spent smiling at regulars at the market and making a place for himself, imprinting his face into the town. He wasn’t unhappy then, not by any means, but that only makes him confused as to what more his crashing star could’ve given him.

Bliss.

“What’s that, boy?” Jack grunts, pulling out a little only to press back in, grinding the tip of his cock until Din is on the verge of tears.

“Oh stars - please don’t tease me,” he cries as another thick bead of precum spills down the slick underside of his cock. There is a low hum, a blinding tug on his hair, and then Jack is snapping his hips into the plush of Din’s ass.

“Like this boy?” he spits as he pulls sob after sob out of him, “Yes Daddy, please Daddy, faster Daddy faster.”

“Daddy loves the way you sound when you’re full of his cock. I love the way you squeeze me boy, such a desperate little slut for Daddy.” Jack’s grin has been sent tumbling down the hill, lost in the awed parting of his lips as he drills into him over and over. He knows how rough the boy likes it now, knows that there isn’t much he won’t take to make him happy. Fuck how he loves making him happy. It shocks him how delicate he once thought he was as he stands here now, tugging his hair and pounding into him as hard as he can give it.

“Right there Daddy, fuck me right there,” he hears. Jack knows he won’t last like this, but Christ if this boy isn’t worth every second, every penny in his pocket.

“I’ve got you baby,” he assures softly, the gentle twist of his voice soothing as he fucks him merciless. “Daddy’s always got you.”

Tags: @cobbvader @miraclemoreno @keeper0fthestars @1zashreena1 @blancatobarxoxo @honeyedspace @chaotic-noceur @opheliaelysia @adikaofmandalore @din-damn-djarin @mrsparknuts @girlwithanewplan @mrschiltoncat @dindjarindiaries @antmnwasp @teaofpeach @nopeforyou @frankiemorales @stanfordscrush @thatreclusewriter @thirstworldproblemss @buckstaposition @wickedfrsgrl @eternallyvenus @the-feckless-wonder @cocoatales @the-wishmonger @fangirlingss @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @iamburdened @frannyzooey @djxrxn @jangofctts @wanderlustmags @mstgsmy @readsalot73 @xakilicious @thewayofthemandalorian @oloreaa @starless-eyes-remain @mrpascals @xjustmenobodyelse @beskar-tano @thepjofanqueen @vulpineblue @sdrecsfics​ @sin-djarin​ @filthybookworm​ @kiwi-the-first​ @pettyprocrastination​

[yandererubix]

Yandere ABC’S

featuring keith and yan pico :D

.

 Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Believe it or not, all this boy would do is just snuggle, or maybe watch a movie. You bet your ass it can and will get very intense, and it makes them both thankful of the lack of neighbors.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Jesus christ, Pico went through enough trauma to not be affected by blood anymore. He would blast that fucker through the head quicker then you can hide, yet if its with his friends he’ll be a bit more hesitant, choosing instead to have a little ‘talk’ with them. He would kill them if he felt he had to, though. edit: poor gf would definitely be the first to die

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He might try and dehumanize Keith a tiny bit, if not just to make sure he doesn’t escape. He does it all in a teasing manner, of course, because why on earth would he try to hurt him? At least, that’s the excuse he uses every time.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

That’s a big yes, and sometimes not even knowing. Probably mainly for punishments, say Keith tried to escape? There’s no way he’d take that without some form of lecturing.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

About average, enough to feel ‘safe’ around him but not everything, such as the shooting. Keith’s aware of the incident because news exists, but he doesn’t know what really happened that day, like most.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Oh, he’d take the challenge heads on, ‘teasing’ back with a dangerous glint in his eye. However, if he wasn’t in the mood, he would definitely tie him down, or simply hold Keith closer, tighter. He doesn’t want to break him, after all.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

You can bet your right arm it is. More often then not he gets a thrill from playing their little game of cat and mouse, and its even more rewarding when he finally catches/

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

When his darling tries to strike back when he’s vulnerable. etc. after sex, sleeping, things like that. There would probably be the tiniest bit of blood drawn, often ending with a sobbing Keith ‘snuggling’ up with him.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He hasn’t really thought about that. He’s content with how things are now, so, go figure.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Is this even a question? For coping he’d probably go on a weed massacre or beat the shit out of whoever held Keith’s attention, until said person is nothing but a bloody piece of rotting meat.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Can get very affectionate, which could be quite dangerous varying on the levels. Otherwise, he’s just Keith’s usual flirty boyfriend.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Okay, lets be honest. After a while of waiting he would just pin him to the wall then drag him away to the ✨cold hard future✨™

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? For sure. Around his darling, he’s flirtatious and very hands-on, but in public he’s quite cold to anyone who so much acknowledges him. Around him friends, although similar, he does genuinely try. God knows what for.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Sexual, dehumanizing, or neglect. There is no in-between. Sorry, Keith.    ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

As mentioned in many other letters, he can be quite patronizing and take away quite a few rights. (name-calling, sometimes he won’t clean up the cuts after punishment if he’s really angry, so on.)

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Impatient most of the time, but that’s neither of their faults, its just in Pico’s nature. He does make an effort most of the time, but no judging if he snaps.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Let’s be honest, he would just shoot himself and they’d be together again. Next one, please.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

First question, a very small percent of the time. He’s definitely delusional, so even though he’s painfully aware of everything, it’s fine. Their together now.  Keith’s only pretending to hate him and call him all those horrible things because he’s too shy to admit he loves him back, right?

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

do with this question what you will. its 10:40pm, people, give me a break.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He’d obviously feel bad, but try not to let it show. Keith won’t acknowledge his presence? Fine. Then he won’t be in his presence for lets say, five days? The problem is, both of them are stubborn as a mule, and that just might be the reason K dies one day.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

gun gun gun gun gun gun gun gun gun gun gun

also the fact he can get reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllllllly jealous. All of the goddamn time.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

im ����pa 👏tient 👏 also, the jealousy. If Keith suddenly pays super extra affectionate randomly back, it might soften up restrictions.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

how many times have i wrote about the blood tho

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Very far lengths, mental wise. Such as killing someone Keith was talking to while he was talking to them, just as a teensy reminder of his love.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

As mentioned this boy is pretty impatient, so I imaging some time after week three he would finally snap. He was just so excited from finally being able to duel him like that, don’t scold him!

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He might accidentally, depending on how strong K’s will is. Pico obviously doesn’t want him to become despondent, he loves him too much, and besides, it’s so much fun for them both when they play their little games of tag or hide and seek.

uurrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhn its now 10:50pm, enjoy i guess and expect more, gremlins.

(sorry if any mistakes, too lazy and tired to care. adios!  ✌️

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 4

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

This update took me longer to get up than I expected! I overthought the shit out of it, but here it is, finally! Hope y’all enjoy a touch of Nessian fluff as much as y’all have appreciated the angst, but also, I’m sorry for the end of the chapter. 🤭

Warnings for strong language, mention of underage drinking, and mentions of grief.

Enjoy!

————————————————————————

After her heart no longer threatened to jump into her throat, Nesta managed to use the restroom and wash her hands, giving herself a silent pep talk in the mirror. She paused at the door, steeled herself, and walked into the bar, as if Cassian hadn’t completely mind-fucked her less than ten minutes ago.

Still determined to keep the night drama-free, she walked over to the bar, ordered herself two shots of whiskey, and walked over to their booth to sit. Amren had returned to the table, joined by Feyre, Mor, and Elain. Nesta slid into the booth next to the birthday girl, greeting her with a bump of her shoulder, and took the first of her shots.

“Oh gods. That looks terrible.” Elain scrunched up her nose as she stared at the next shot.

“It does the job!” Nesta took a deep breath and threw the second shot back with impressive speed. She was usually one to be more conservative on their nights out, so her back-to-back shots were met with cheers from around the table. Elain rested her head on Nesta’s shoulder as she giggled, followed by a slurred, “I’m so happy you’re here, Nessie. I love you.”

They ordered another round of drinks as they changed erratically from one topic of conversation to another. When Nesta heard the ice clinking at the bottom of her empty glass, she suddenly realized the compound effects of her earlier drinks, her shots, and the one she just finished. She noted how her vision was truly starting to blur as the room spun, and she felt her body flush. She leaned over to Elain and let her know she was going to step outside for some fresh air. She assured her repeatedly that she would be okay.— Yes, she had her phone on her.— No, she didn’t need anyone to accompany her. She slid out of the booth and walked briskly toward the front door of the bar.

Once she made it outside, she walked down the side of the building in an attempt to find a quieter spot to lean against the wall. There was a group of men outside; obviously having a celebration of sorts and being as loud and unruly as humanly possible. She aimed to increase her distance from them, walking down the building and closer and closer to the parking lot. She found herself staring down an aisle of parked vehicles, eyes landing on a familiar truck about halfway down the row. Before she realized where her feet were carrying her, she was staring at the tailgate of the truck, hand reaching for the handle. She worked through her faulty, drunken logic.

Surely he wouldn’t mind if I sat on his tailgate instead of the ground.

It’s likely a little safer to sit here than it would be right next to a group of drunk men, alone.

The group would be out for a while yet, so as long as she closed it, he’d never know anyway.

Tired of standing in her wedges and unable to think of a single reason not to do it, she lowered the tailgate. She turned around, braced herself on her hands, and hopped to lift herself enough to sit. She dangled her legs, swinging them back and forth lightly. She took a few steadying breaths, already feeling better than she had inside. There was a soft breeze kissing the back of her neck and cooling her cheeks. She felt incredibly content for the first time in weeks, and she shuddered at how the familiarity of where she sat contributed to the feeling.

After several minutes, she got bored of staring at the few cars across the aisle from her and the ones leaving. She scooted back several feet into the bed of the truck so that her legs were supported and lay back to look at the sky for a little while. She lost herself in trying to identify constellations that her mother had shown her years ago and whispered a quiet hello to the woman she missed so much. It was always surprising to her how many she remembered after all this time, especially considering that the pace of her life didn’t allow for much stargazing anymore.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the footsteps that approached from her left. She had located the five brights stars in a small “v” that told her she was looking at Taurus, and was tracing her gaze up to the two bright stars marking the horns when she was abruptly pulled from her thoughts.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” Cassian asked the question through a soft chuckle, but Nesta still jumped in surprise. Her head popped up, eyes snapping toward him instantly.

“Shit, Cassian. You scared me.” She relaxed into her prior position but angled her chin down to maintain eye contact. It was surprisingly comfortable in the bed of this truck.

He lifted his eyebrows at her words, one lifting slightly higher than the other. They always had when he was truly surprised, not that she noticed. His eyes were still upturned at the corners, and it calmed her to know he wasn’t annoyed with her blatant use of his property.

“I’m sorry?... That wasn’t my intention, but I didn’t really expect to see you in the bed of my truck, either. Kind of seems like you should have expected me to come by at some point, at least.” He was still giving her a mischievous smile, and she realized that she would have to quickly get a leash on her thoughts to get through another interaction.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head quickly. “Oh. Yea. No, I know. I think I just figured that I’d be back inside before you made it out here,” she said, as if it was the most reasonable explanation in the world. “Are you leaving? I’m really sorry, I’ll get out.” She sat up, but before she could start to scoot herself down, a broad hand wrapped gently around her shin.

”Stay. I’m not leaving anytime soon. Kallias left a little while ago, and he called me to tell me he thought he saw my tailgate down. I didn’t remember leaving the bed open, so I came out to check. Relax.” He offered a soft smile, and she felt her heart skip at his sincerity. He removed his hand from her shin to lean forward and brace himself on both hands. Her eyes caught on the little bit of his tattoos that were visible on his chest and traced down his arms. Before she could silently berate herself for her staring, he was speaking again.

“So. What are you doing out here, Archie?” He looked up from the tailgate, amusement crinkling his eyes at the corners. She groaned dramatically at the old nickname that he gave her in high school. She had a love-hate relationship with it; hate because it was awful, love because he coined it. He used it less and less as they got older, but it still made its appearance every now and then when he teased her.

“Gods, can we please let ‘Archie’ go? It’s so terrible.” She couldn’t help the small giggle that erupted out of her as she talked. She took a deep breath before answering his question. “My drinks hit me all at once inside, so I came out to get some fresh air.“ She adjusted her body a little to situate herself and lifted her gaze back to the sky. “I’m doing drunk people things and laying down to look at the stars until I can handle going back in there.” She gave a small smirk as she let her head fall to the side, looking at him again.

“For one, as long as I’m living, ‘Archie’ stays. You might as well lean into it. For two, perfectly reasonable. I’m glad I could offer the proper amenities for your drunk stargazing.” He winked at her then, a friendly gesture rather than suggestive in any way. She could tell he was more relaxed than before, the alcohol likely taking its effect on him, too.

She cleared her throat and asked the question on her tongue before she could think better of it.

“Are you in a hurry to go back inside? Join me?” She patted the space next to her for good measure.

You’re doing a terrible job of ‘leashing’ yourself, Nesta.

“I think I could spare a few minutes for you, Archie.” He turned around and easily sat on the tailgate. He pushed himself backwards to lay on his back next to her, only to be met with her hard glare. He let out a laugh then, shaking his head at her and looking at the sky.

“You know, this is pretty nostalgic.” He brought his arm to rest under his head, settling into a comfortable position as he spoke.

“I have to agree with you on that,” she said through a laugh. It was oddly reminiscent of their late high school and early college days of underage drinking at any and every party. So often, they would find themselves drunk, laying in the bed of his truck or on someone’s porch, sharing drinks and stories from earlier in the night.

“The only thing missing is a pint of cheap liquor that we had no business drinking.”

”Don’t forget the straw.” Nesta was grinning now and resisting the urge to look at him. His proximity, combined with their shared memories, was already a lot to navigate.

”I would never. I’ve received enough verbal lashings in my day to always remember the straw.” They were both laughing now, enjoying the comfortable banter. “I still don’t understand your insistence on that.” Their laughter faded into comfortable silence, and she noticed his head turn toward her lazily once they fell quiet. She looked over at him and watched his Adam’s apple bob before he spoke.

“I’ve really missed my friend,” he said quietly, as he shifted his arm closer to her. He grazed his knuckles over the back of her palm, and his eyes scanned her face.

She continued to look at him, unsure she could break it even if she tried. “Me too. Really.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

He swiftly picked up the heavier atmosphere settling over them and shifted both of his hands toward his body. He laced them over his stomach as he shifted his attention back to the sky. “So, which constellation were you so invested in when I walked up?”

She looked back up at the sky before answering him. “Taurus.”

“That’s a good one. Momma Archie would be proud that you remember.” She was touched by the affection she heard in his voice for her mother. He’d grown close to her in their years as friends and had taken it hard when she passed. His tone shifted into something a little more playful when he said: “Even though you’re feeding every rom com stereotype of the drunk girl, staring wistfully at the stars, and—“

She interrupted him with a laugh and a jab to the ribs. “Shut up! Don’t you dare make fun of me, you shit.”

He feigned a deep groan, as if her jab had truly wounded him, and clutched his side. “Gods, keep your sharp elbows on your side of the truck.” He seemed to recover quickly, his tone dripping with jest, “Is this the part where I point out a really obscure constellation that reminds me of you, and you fall madly in love with me?” There was nothing implied by the question, she realized; his only aim to give her a hard time.

“As if I would expect you to know any of them. Much less the rare ones,” she deadpanned, even though she failed to completely hide her smile. Before she knew what was happening, he was sitting up suddenly and rolling toward her. His hands found each side of her rib cage, and he started to tickle her mercilessly.

“Don’t be a jerk! I’m more than just a pretty face, I’ll have you know.” He was laughing as he spoke, fully delighting in her misery.

“Okay, okay, okay! You win! Cassian, PLEASE.” She was laughing so hard that tears started to pool in the corners of her eyes.

He finally stopped his torture, looking down at her through bright eyes. She was acutely aware of how close his face was to hers, their noses almost touching. She felt the weight of his leg casually thrown over one of hers during the tousle, and she blushed at the heat she felt throughout her body at the contact. His eyes softened slightly and, before she could ask him what was wrong, he spoke softly. “Fuck... I was hoping some time away from you would help a little more.” He lingered for only a couple of seconds, shifted his weight, and rolled away from her to sit up on the tailgate.

It took her mind a minute to realize his meaning, and she immediately felt guilty. This was all her fault to begin with, not only in how she responded to him those weeks ago, but in inviting him to sit with her tonight. She sat up next to him and placed her hands under her thighs to avoid reaching for him.

She furrowed her brows and cleared her throat. “And I’m assuming that it didn’t help as much as you wanted?” It was odd conversation to broach, but it seemed insensitive to say nothing at all.

His hands were braced on the outside of his thighs, his shoulders slumped as he looked out into the parking lot. He turned his head toward her subtly, only looking at her through his side eye.

”Didn’t even touch it.” He gave her a sad smile before he broke eye contact.

One would assume that after ten years of friendship, she would no longer be surprised at how open he could be. She marveled at the genuine man next to her and how he managed to never let the trauma of life change who he was. She envied him, to a certain extent, because she didn’t think herself capable of trying to even fake that level of openness with others.

“Cass, I’m sorry, I—“

”Don’t.” There was no bite in his words, only an insistence that she not blame herself. “It’s ok.” He ran one hand through his long curls before hopping off the tailgate. He extended his hand to her.

“Ready to go back? The ladies will send the troops looking for you if you stay out much longer.”

She accepted his hand long enough to slide off the tailgate and gain solid footing. She smoothed the back of her jeans to make sure they weren’t dusty, straightened her blazer, and offered him a smile.

“You lead the way.”

——————————————————————————

It was only another hour or so that passed before Elain felt she had sufficiently celebrated her birthday. They were sitting in their booth again, joined by Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. Mor had dragged Cassian and Amren to the dance floor, clearly having gotten her second wind.

Elain yawned and looked over to Nesta. “Nessie... Would you be ready to go?”

”Sure, El. Want me to get you home? I can get us a Lyft.”

”Mmm. I’m thinking slumber party. Your house.” She smiled sweetly, knowing she was going to request birthday breakfast the next morning.

Nesta rolled her eyes knowingly. “Fine. My house it is.” She ordered their car.

“Hey! I wanna come!” Feyre’s blue eyes flared, and her expression was one of a petulant toddler. It was a reaction bred from years as the family baby, always fearing she was being left out. Nesta felt another rush of affection for her; for both of them.

Within minutes, they were piling into a small SUV. Feyre sat behind the driver, Elain in the middle, and Nesta slid in next to her. Their driver was polite and quiet, confirming their destination and falling silent the rest of the drive.

“Nessie, I’m mad at you.” Elain slurred the words as she rested her head on Feyre’s shoulder, eyes closed. Nesta snapped her head in her direction, not even remotely aware of what she could have possibly done to upset her in the last five minutes.

“What the hell for?!” Her voice wasn’t loud, but her surprise was obvious.

”Because you’re friends with Az.”

Nesta was quiet for a moment as she considered. ”You’re going to have to give me more to go off of, El.”

Elain huffed a breath through her nose and said, “You’re so close to Az. And that sucks for me because he’s never going to even look at me. Cause I’m your little sister. And he’s nice and considerate and wouldn’t want to make you mad.”

Ohhh, I see. So she’s confirming what we all knew already. She likes Azriel.

Feyre let out a soft giggle and lay her head on top of Elain’s. She rested her hand affectionately on Elain’s leg, a gesture that aimed to soothe her sister’s drunken anxieties. Nesta couldn’t fight her smile at Elain’s “angry” words and disguised her amusement as best as possible as she spoke.

“Ellie, I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s not like Az is afraid of me in the slightest. Plus, he’s basically the only man that I’d find worthy of you.”

”Okay. Well, nevermind, then.” She yawned and was dozing within seconds.

Nesta’s eyes met Feyre’s identical ones across the car, and they both had to suppress their giggles to avoid waking her. The night had been a roller coaster of emotions, and she wasn’t sure how she could ever survive life’s ups and downs without the two women in the car with her. Sure, there were times where her and Feyre would almost come to blows, and Elain’s gentle spirit would tire of their hotheadedness. But no one else would ever know her like they knew her.

Thinking over the course of the night, she started to feel compelled to reach out to Cassian. She alternated between the compulsion and the rationale part of her brain (likely the sobering part) that was telling her it was a terrible idea.

Are we okay? Does he resent me even more? Is he annoyed that I put us in this position?

Why do you care? This is what you wanted. What you demanded of him.

She suppressed the reason threatening to deter her, opened their text thread, and typed a short message.

N: It was really was good to see you tonight. Sorry I didn’t get to say bye. Just wanted to reach out and tell you to be safe getting home.

She hit send before she could overthink it and locked her phone to avoid staring at the screen. She knew she would only find herself willing the ellipsis to pulse and show he was typing. As luck would have it, they were already pulling up to her apartment complex, and her attention would be monopolized by getting her sisters inside and comfortable. They woke Elain up and prompted her to walk inside to Nesta’s bedroom. She dug through her drawers to get them each some nightclothes, all but forced them to wash their faces, and forced spare toothbrushes into their hands. She padded into her room to change into her own night clothes, plugged in all of their phones, and made sure they each had a pillow across her king bed. She chuckled to herself at the eldest sister caregiving behaviors that would likely never leave her. Elain and Feyre walked briskly into the room, Elain announcing proudly that she called ‘middle’ as the birthday girl. They settled into the sheets and both of her little sisters were asleep within minutes. She was on the brink of unconsciousness herself when her phone vibrated on her bedside table, startling her awake. She blinked against the brightness of the screen to focus on who was calling her.

Shit, it’s Cassian. Shit shit shit.

She hit ‘accept’ and quickly brought the phone to her ear. She whispered her “Hello?” before glancing over at her sisters to make sure they weren’t disturbed. Not in the slightest.

She was met with rustling sounds, much like those of someone’s pocket during an accidental dial, and muffled conversations. She assumed he had, in fact, pocket dialed, but she waited a few more seconds. She told herself she should just in case he was trying to get situated, sabotaged by the alcohol coursing through his system. She repeated her greeting but didn’t want to get any louder for her sisters’ sakes. She was about to hang up when she heard his voice coming clearly through the phone.

“I know! I haven’t seen you in what, almost a year?”

”Yea, almost exactly! I’m surprised we don’t run into each other more often, to be honest.” The second voice was unfamiliar and unmistakably female. She felt her stomach lurch, but she couldn’t hang up.

Cassian laughed casually and said, “No kidding. It’s not like Velaris is so big.”

”Shit. I think my friends are leaving me. I’ll see you next week though, right?” Her tone was clear, insinuating that she knew his answer.

”Absolutely. Is Wednesday after work ok? Around 5:30?”

”Ill be there! Bye, Cassian!” There was more rustling, as if they had come together in a hug, but she acknowledged that her imagination was likely torturing her.

“Sounds like a plan. See you then, Alis!”

Hearing her name is what finally had her ending the call and tossing her phone back onto the table. Her head was swimming. She was suddenly humiliated at her earlier text, wishing she had never sent it.

You should feel better, honestly. He probably doesn’t resent you. He may not have given your actions a second thought at all. He’s moving on.

She turned over before she could be consumed by her thoughts, tucked her face into the side of Elain’s shoulder, and drifted off to sleep.

————————————————————————

A/N: I just want to thank y’all again for the support I’ve gotten for this fic. Y’all really have been the best! My apologies for how this one ended, but we’re getting somewhere, I promise! Please don’t kill me 🙈

Tags are below!

@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy // @iammissstark // @keshavomit // @sjmships // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @dusty-lightbulb // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @julemmaes // @charincharge // @superspiritfestival // @awesomelena555 // @sleeping-and-books // @hizqueen4life // @maastrash // @bookstantrash // @rhyswhitethorn // @grace-k-sterling

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, you can shoot me a message, comment, or reblog! As always, feedback is welcome!

[catrasredemption-moved]

Just wanted to say this because of the Catra redemption talk: My abuser had been the victim of long term, severe and complex abuse. They were very young when they took on the enormous responsibility of managing my family. They ignored their own true needs and mental health and subsequently continued the cycle largely to feel more powerful and in control when they were actually hanging on by a thread, sound familiar?

Learning to like Catra was a struggle for me, but she’s now one of my favourite characters. If not my most favourite. Why? Because she made the choice to be better. She reached out even when she knew people had every reason to reject her. She did as much as she could to really look at herself and listen and think about how she needed to change. It wasn’t for power or control or to stick it to someone, but because she had wants and needs and was able to allow herself to be vulnerable enough to address them honestly. She started to show who she truly was, playful, protective and true to her values. If you know what to look for, these things are demonstrated with meticulous detail. Especially her recovery being a difficult process of two steps forward and one step back.

Healing relationships where abuse has been present is difficult. Often impossible. Forgiving someone who has been abusive to you is a personal decision and frequently based on the quality or depth of the relationship before the abuse started. But someone who genuinely works on themselves and starts to change should be given the time and space to do so. They aren’t owed relationships with the people they hurt, but we, the abused, have every right to allow them back into our lives if we feel safe enough to take the chance. That’s why I forgave Catra. I wanted to give her the chance and she didn’t disappoint me. That’s why I support other people forgiving her, even after everything she did.

This was a very nice, if somewhat bittersweet ask to get at the end of the night. I’m going to continue under the cut,but basically, lots of talk with my own abusive experiences.

My mom and stepfather gaslighted me for most of my life. Made me feel like an inconvenience, like a leech that just sucked life and money out of them, like I was worthless because I couldn’t contribute, to the point where I am now married and still worry about “wasting” food (wasting being eating food).

While still living with them, I got into a relationship with a girl. Let’s call her V. She was... complicated. We found out later she had undiagnosed and untreated borderline personality disorder, and it made her downright vicious. She’d lash out at me if I was out of contact for more than five minutes, even if I was at work or spending time with friends. And none of this was out of nowhere - she was also emotionally and psychologically abused by her parents.

Full disclosure, I was in love with V, and I kept giving her chances. We broke up four times in the span of a year, always initiated by her pushing me away before I could leave her, then coming back a few months later, usually after catching up to see how I’m doing on Tumblr, then initiating conversation. She’d acknowledge how terrible she was, apologize, promise to change, to be better again.

Our last and by far messiest breakup was April 2015, mostly because I finally grew a backbone and told her I was tired of her fucking games, and to never contact me again. I blocked her everywhere I could think of and cut off any access she might have to me. I even changed my tumblr url just so she couldn’t accidentally find me again. I knew this was the final final final final breakup, and I was exhausted and depressed, and felt like I was going to be alone forever.

Fast forward to October, I’m tentatively dating a new girl - call her Shai - and I have vague hopes that maybe she’ll work out. She’s smart and she’s funny and she already knows my last relationship broke me, and she’s willing to take it slow.

Then one day I get an email from V, because of course email is the one thing I didn’t think to block. She was writing to let me know that she was trying to get her shit together, she was on medication, she was going to therapy, she was building a support system that wouldn’t be on one person’s shoulders. So I gave her a chance. I told her I had a girlfriend and that I would, under no circumstances, consider dating her again. She understood. She still understands. We’re still friends now, five years later. Because she for real, actually put the work in to try and be a better person. Shai - now my wife - knows I’m friends with her and is supportive, because she also knows what it’s like to be a deep dark hole that almost drives everyone away, so as long as V doesn’t fuck with me, we’re good.

And to be clear, I was no angel during those miserable four attempts at a relationship. Especially toward the end I started getting angry and lashing out and standing up for myself.

And, like you, I think this is why I appreciate Catra as a character so much. Because I’ve seen the real time struggle of someone who just doesn’t know how to take care of herself and handle her emotions, and how absolutely self-destructive that can be. But Catra takes that first step forward and tries. And Adora accepts her, for all her mistakes, and all her flaws, and cares so deeply for her. And if Adora wants to forgive her, then good. It just goes to show how unbreakable their friendship really is

PS - V and I still talk. Usually random two-line conversations here and there, but they’re funny and nice and natural and feel like friendship. She’s still working so hard every day to be a better person. And I see so much of her in Catra, so I might be a little biased. Catra’s trying, and Adora wants to help her try. and... honestly, I feel like that’s the moral of the story. If someone truly wants to change, you can choose to shut the door your mental health, and that’s fine. Or you can reach out and give the person another chance. It’s all your choice.

Anyway my meds have kicked and now I’m really tired so I hope some ounce of this made sense. Thank you for ending my night with this, though

[marshmallowprotection]

Kait Reacts To The AE 10/?

Hi! These reactions are written out every time a Chatroom opens and it’s done over the course of the day. So, you’re watching me react in real time as it is for me. So, Spoilers AHOY. Expect Another post like this tomorrow, there is just too many chats to put it all in one post. So, hey, if you click this, you’re opening yourself to spoilers, you make the choice. If I do this right, there should only be two posts tomorrow. 

[21:39]

The chatroom opens again. Saeran knows the truth. He ran off. I don’t know how he handled it. I don’t. He said nothing. He just left. I had a feeling for a moment that he used this... grief and moment of weakness to make the distraction that needed to be made and I don’t know if I’m still on the good ending path or not right now because I didn’t think the game was going to continue to separate me and Saeran. I sincerely didn’t. It felt like maybe there was a shred of hope but now I just. 

I don’t know. I don’t know what to think here when I’m reading through this part and it hurts. But, I do appreciate the commentary in this chatroom because time and time again, the game lets you tell Rika she’s wrong. She needs to hear that shit whether she likes or not. Nobody can coddle her. She needs to facts and be honest. She needs to admit she did wrong. 

She cannot live a lie. I thought she was going to lash out. I don’t know if she will at this point but she and V leave the chatroom after this conversation so make of that what you will. There’s some dodgy moments there for a second as they try to figure out where he went and who should go after then. I really don’t even care anymore about what’s going on with them. I cannot trust them. I just can’t do that. 

They both hid this secret, and the bombshell is that V is there that day. He was close-by. Rika didn’t fucking hide it from him. He hid that. I didn’t know that, I did not even think that he knew. I thought maybe... he assumed, but I wasn’t sure if he actually knew. He didn’t know about Mika, either. So, this just proves that V has been hiding her and spurning this all along and Mika was there as well to push Rika deeper into what she already wanted to do and who she wanted to be. No wonder she crashed when she did, honestly. 

Saeran hits V with a text and that’s when I know this is the end. 

He only texted V something vague about where to find him. 

Once again! So, yeah, that’s one thing that caught me off-guard and now I can’t unsee or unread what I learned. V knew from the start that she was going down a bad path and he knows right and wrong, but he just... he didn’t. He didn’t stop her and he didn’t help her go to where she needed, we know that she blacked out when she killed Mother Choi. She was fearful for her life in that moment and likely wouldn’t have faced a huge punishment. 

But, she still took a life. 

And Rika herself says... “Even my abusive mother... if someone killed her... the devil would be the one that killed her.” Therefore, in that logic, she and V are the devils. V asks me if it’s a mistake. Let’s just make it clear how I handled that one with him. 

I race to Saeran as fast as I can in the visual novel. It’s... there’s no choice for me here. I have to leave him and the music is playing louder in the background and I just. I’m crying. “I don’t want to leave you. Please.” I try to see if he’s okay but he’s... at peace with the truth. I don’t know how I would have handled that in this situation. Does anyone feel relief when their abuser is dead? It tends to be muddled quite a bit for most people. 

Saeran tells me that he won’t change his mind, though. I don’t have the strength or the ability to type through my tears right now so I just copied the dialogue out from the game and pasted it here for you to see why I’m so fucked up. I can’t just forget you and leave, Saeran Choi. That’s not how this works. We’ve talked about this. Nobody can make me choose anything, just as nobody can make you choose anything. 

And, I choose you, forever and always. 

So, if you think that I could leave and never look back, you’re wrong. I can’t do that. I don’t know... I just. I can’t. I don’t know. Zen texted me after this and said even though Jumin said no, he wants to help me make a plan with Yoosung to be able to save Saeran. Maybe, that’s the key? I don’t know. 

[23:00]

I have never been sadder in my life than the moment that I heard Generously Hacked Bepop. Honestly. That song came on and I was just. I’m too sad for this upbeat jazz party. I can’t. The RFA is together and they want to know that we’re okay. We got out. Saeran stalled. He did what he could. We’re out of there and Saeyoung is going to be awake within four hours and we’re going to be at C&R within two hours. There’s not much to note, here. All I know is that we’re on the move. 

Zen and Yoosung want to rescue Saeran. Jumin... I don’t know. He seems to be thinking otherwise. I don’t like that. He and Saeran likely had a talk. I don’t know, I’m just... guessing here. He also says something that we shouldn’t forget, that the group wants to put on a big announcement in the morning. I don’t know what that means. I’m actually. 

The worst thought came to me when he said that because. 

I thought. 

What if the plan is to say that Saejoong Choi killed Saeran? To everyone, to all of those in earshot. I don’t know. It’s just a guess. But, when Saeyoung does the work for the agency and takes them down... he’s the only boss left to take care in a sense. Is that the plan? It has to do with Saejoong. I don’t. I don’t know. I just can’t figure it out. This is my guess... but I don’t know. They said that they will tell me when I get there. 

That means I may not like it. 

That means I could be right and. 

My track record of being right has doomed me thus far. 

Anyways, the visual novel is rather lengthy and it fucked me up. It fucked me up really bad. I just. There was the music, there was the emotional turmoil, there was just too much to process all at once for me to be able to handle what was even happening here. Rika and V really did get rid of the body together, they did that. I can’t. I can’t believe that. Saeran is... I can’t believe his level of maturity, I said that I didn’t want him to forgive Rika or V. But, he chooses to forgive them because that’s his choice. 

He doesn’t want to be angry anymore. 

He doesn’t want to think of the pain. 

He doesn’t want to drown in that feeling.

He just wants to be happy. 

He chooses that for himself, and honestly, it felt like he did that as he came to the conclusion that this was it. There’s a lot to unpack here so... I’m just going to let Saeran speak for himself for the most part as I recount my feelings on the matter. He’s... I’m proud of him. I know that he picked this for himself and I want to respect his freedom. He decided to forgive, and he decided that this was the right emotional choice for him. Don’t get me wrong, I doubt he’s going to let them into our lives. 

Forgiveness does not mean friendship.

It means that we can part ways as well and end that arc of trauma. It’s a choice that you can make. You don’t have to make it. If it helps you, make it. Saeran is the one that decided that he needed to do this. I respect that. I don’t know what V and Rika plan to do.

And for the worst, he looks at them with this look on his face and simply says: 

It was my worst fear come true and I don’t... I can’t. He is willing to die for this cause. I can’t. I can’t. Rika freaks out. She says that she is the root of all evil because this “never would have happened if I didn’t kill your mother.” She can’t change the past, and she has to live with that. If she and V do turn around here and do the right thing, don’t expect me to forgive them for what they did. Even if you do the right thing at the last second, you are owed nothing. 

I’m twisted. I know that neither of them want Saeran to die like this. I know that, but... after all that they’ve done. It’s just hard for me. Saeran is a bit more stronger then me, I guess. I admire that about him and I love him for it. He is so warm and so kind. I will never let myself forget that. But, this isn’t the end, and I am not leaving him to die. 

You can call him after this as well. 

His phone is about to die. He’s tired. He can’t move. He’s laying there on the grass as he watches the sky. He repeats his love over and over and over and over again. He says that he’s grateful for me being there for him when he needed someone and he’ll never forget that. He tells you every way that he loves you and every way that he is thankful and it’s hard to focus on it when you are crying. 

And... he just... 

Saeran: “I’m free. I’m finally free. My life was always a cage that I never thought I would escape from... but. I’m free. I love you... I will love you forever... I love you, I love you so much... I...”

And the phone drops the call when his battery dies and I die a little alongside that. 

Please, please let me rescue him before it’s too late. 

[bakugou-tm]

Bakugou with a T H I C C but also shy s/o, she always covers her body but one-day she wears jeans or somethings and bakugou is like "where did this thickness come from"???

I love this request and I will gladly fulfill it for you

Rating: Slightly suggestive themes at the very end, because how could I not, but mostly fluff and soft bby Katsuki

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

Bakugou was never one to care about the way his soulmate looked. That’s one of the many things you loved about him.

This wasn’t to say he wasn’t an ass man, because he was total ass man, or that seeing womanly curves didn’t excite him in the slightest. It’s just he always had been attracted to the personality before the looks, which was surprising with his rather blunt personality.

But that is, after all, how the two of you got together. New to the school your third year, attention grew on you quickly when people noticed you wore a large sweater that fell just above the hem of your skirt to hide your body away from wavering eyes.

After being bullied in elementary school, you had finally had enough. Though, that didn’t mean you didn’t still have those emotional scars attached to you.

Luckily enough, your new classmates were more than welcoming and accepted you even for your odd look. Slowly but surely, people began to grow accustom to your baggy clothing, especially a certain ash blond.

Initially your shy, reserved attitude annoyed him to no end. Bakugou had no patience with those who could even try to defend themselves.

But after being paired up with a project, Bakugou was forced to know your true story and how you had built up these walls around you ever since elementary school.

It was that day that Bakugou realized: He was going to do everything in his power to protect you.

And he did just that.

In good time he grew the balls, Kirishima totally set it up tho, to ask you out to which you happily said yes to. Now after dating for a few months, Bakugou was proud to see you come out of your shell and watch you turn into the bright and bubbly girl you were before you had been harassed in your early years.

The only thing that didn’t change was your baggy attire, but at this point Bakugou didn’t seem to mind. He wasn’t one to judge what others wore, and as long as you were comfortable and happy he couldn’t give a flying shit.

But oh would that change the day he found out what exactly was hiding underneath all those horrendous articles.

Standing before the mirror in your boyfriend’s bathroom, you let out a sigh as you eyed your figure one last time in the spunky outfit.

Today the girls wanted to go out in the city, explore a few shops and get some pictures for the start of summer. While the plans sounded great, you weren’t expecting all of your friends to rally behind your new outfit change.

“C’mon (L/n)-chan, pretty please wear this!” Mina exclaimed with big puppy dog eyes as she gestured to the outfit Momo held in her hands.

Biting at your lower lip nervously, you shyly looked down as you felt your heart beat begin to pick up just a bit faster.

“I..I don’t know... and how could I possibly accept this Momo, it must have costed so much!”

A few girls scoffed at this, Momo even rolling her eyes as they knew full and well Momo and her family weren’t ones to worry about the cost of something.

“Really (L/n) it’s not a big deal, these were in my closet from a few years ago and I never even touched them, they’re better off going to you than some dumpster.”

You hated that you knew she was right, and you hated that you had no more excuses to throw out as your friends expectantly looked at you.

“We know it can be scary (L/n) trust me, I understand.” Jirou said with a caring smile as she placed a hand on your shoulder, “But you can trust us, we know you’ll look good in this and it’ll be much more comfortable to wear in the hot summer sun right?”

She did have a good point. Nodding slowly you grabbed the clothes from Momo, all of the girls squeeling in success as they hugged you tightly.

“We promise you (L/n), you’re going to love your new look!” Hagakure exclaimed, Ochako nodding quickly beside her.

“Annnd if you do like the outfit, we can shop more while we’re out and pick out a few others outfits you’ll like!”

New outfits? For some reason, that made your heart flutter just a bit. But not in a nervous way, in an excited way. She was right.. they were right! It’s time for you to dress the way you’ve always wanted to dress ever since you were little!

‘Now was not the time, definitely not the time.’ You thought to yourself as you gripped at the edges of Bakugou’s bathroom counter.

How were you going to walk out in public like this? With all of those eyes watching! Would they make fun of your muscular thighs? Or your larger bottom? Just the thought of looming glances all on you made you feel like you were going to vomit.

Gritting your teeth, you slowly looked up to your reflection one last time. Even with these negative thoughts poisoning your mind, you had to admit you did kind of look... good.

The pastel blue spaghetti strapped blouse accented your collarbone and toned arms from training, and you admired the softness of it. Plus the V-neck style allowed you to wear a few of your favorite necklaces, one of them given to you by Bakugou a few months ago for Christmas. 

The silky blouse tucked in nicely with the dark wash high waisted jeans, the pockets on the back accenting the curvature of your backside and hugging all the right curves that you were able to pull off. Thanks to the high wasted aspect, the ankles of the jeans came up just enough for you to put on your favorite high top converse to bring the look all together.

With your hair tied up in a delicate bun, with the exception of a few hairs coming out, you couldn’t help but smile softly. For once in so many years you felt... beautiful.

Narrowing your (e/c) eyes sharply, you inhaled sharply before grabbing your bag and nodding your head confidently.

“I got this! I can do this.”

And so you did. You stomped out of your boyfriend’s bathroom with an unknown swagger and confidence you never knew you had.

Glancing towards Bakugou’s bed, you noticed his back turned to you as he was searching for something in his closet. Smiling softly at the cute backside of his wild blond tufts, you moved to his desk and double checked your bag to make sure you had everything with you.

“I’m heading out to go meet with the girls downstairs Katsuki, I’ll see you later tonight okay?”

Bakugou slightly jumped at the sound of your voice. Though he would never admit it, you were so good at sneaking up on people. The worst part was, you never even meant to do it.

This time was no exception, the ash blond mumbling a few profanities that went over your head as he searched for another game controller for Kirishima when he was to come over after you left.

Once his eyes finally landed on the controller he snatched it with an annoyed grunt before grabbing his water bottle from the metal shelf and closing his doors.

“Yeah yeah, don’t have a shitty time I guess and don’t get fucking killed, you hear me?” Bakugou spoke, uncapping his water to take a quick swig of it while he turned around to head towards your form, only for his entire body to freeze.

You.. you.. what were you wearing? Actually scratch that, who were you? Where did you get that body from?

Is this seriously what you’ve been hiding from him all these months?! An ass that looked like it had been sculpted from the gods, a (your figure) so perfectly sculpted it practically made him dizzy, beautiful smooth thighs that filled the jeans up just right. From head to toe you looked stunning... like a fucking angel!

Bakugou hadn’t even noticed he had paused halfway through swallowing his water until he bursted into obnoxious coughs, his face growing red as he coughed up the stubborn liquid before his eyes fell back on you once more.

At the sound of his outburst you quickly spun around, your (e/c) eyes widened with concerned as you saw your boyfriend red faced with a wild look in his eye.

“K..Katsuki are you alright?” You questioned softly, as you began to walk over to him until you heard a low growl vibrate past his lips.

Oh.

That’s why his face was so red. That’s what the downright animalistic look in his eyes was. You were so worried about what other people thought, you hadn’t even begun to realize that this was your boyfriend’s first time seeing you without baggy clothing.

“The fuck is this (F/n)?” Bakugou hissed lowly, his vermillion eyes hooded behind his ash blond bangs as he loomed over to you slowly.

You couldn’t bare look into his eyes, your own falling to the ground as you felt all the confidence seep from your body and to the floor.

“I..I.. the girls wanted me t..to wear something different...” You mumbled softly, feeling warm tears bring at the rim of your eyes, “I just thought...”

“You thought what, (F/n)?”

What were you even thinking. Why did you think dressing normally would be any different now? Nobody wanted to see your hideous body the way it was, not even your boyfriend. It would just be best if you hid it all from the world so you didn’t lose everybody you loved.

“I...” Was all you managed to whimper, your eyes squeezing shut to avoid any tears from seeping down your cheeks.

“You seriously fucking thought it was okay to hide this masterpiece from me all this time?”

At this you froze, eyes slowly opening at his comment. So he wasn’t.. disappointed?

Peering up slowly at your boyfriend through delicate lashes, you locked your gaze with his firm vermillion one, not even being able to help your lower lip from jutting out due to your overwhelming emotions,

“H..Huh?”

Bakugou’s intense gaze froze in the moment along with you, his face softening in confusion when he saw the thick layer of tears threatening to spill from your beautiful orbs.

“Wait (F/n), what the hell is wrong?” Bakugou spoke in a gruff, but soft tone as he quickly pulled you into his arms.

Biting at your lip, you let out a soft sniffle before embracing him back tightly.

“Y..You looked at me with such disgust, I thought t..that you didn’t like the way I looked and... and I didn’t want to lose you because of it.”

There was no getting around the immense dread and guilt Bakugou felt after hearing your confession, his eyes squeezing shut as he muttered ‘damn it’ under his breath.

Of course his shocked reaction probably looked like that to you, why wouldn’t it? He totally disregarded your past and how insecure you’ve been.

“No (L/n) that’s not it at all, n’ I’m an asshole for not expressing that,” Bakugou spoke into your hair as he placed a soft kiss on your head before pulling back to look you in the eye, “I was just shocked... all these months I’ve fucking fallen for you and I never even knew how beautiful my girlfriend was.. inside and out.”

Those words were enough to let those fat tears stream down your cheeks, ignoring the long work of makeup you applied to your face.

“K..Katsuki...” You whimpered with a large smile, one that made Bakugou swell with pride.

One calloused thumb swiped across both of your cheeks, a quick ‘tch’ escaping your boyfriend’s lips before he looked away with a blush, “Quit your fucking crying you sappy girl, you’re so damn dramatic.

Giggling softly you pressed a sweet kiss on Bakugou’s cheek, before grabbing your bag, “Thank you Katsuki, I love you.”

At those words, the ash blond couldn’t help but lay his eyes back on your own. A rush of heat flowed through his body, and he couldn’t even help the wild grin that came across his lips, to which he quickly pulled you in for a hug so you couldn’t see his emotions get the better of him.

“Love you too shitty girl...” Bakugou muttered with the role of his eyes before a sly smirk came across his lips.

Now that you were feeling better... there was no way on earth he was letting you get away with not only making him flustered but also daring to show yourself in such a delightful outfit.

Calloused palms traveled down your back, unnoticed by you until you felt the large hands grasp at the curvature of your cheeks, giving your bottom a nice squeeze causing a squeak of surprise to come out of you.

“Now you better come back home soon enough, it’s bad enough you’re going to be out in public with so many shitty extras looking at what’s mine.” Bakugou purred into your ear, his teeth just grazing the edge causing shivers to travel down your spine,

“So hurry fucking back, you know sure as hell I’m going to need to have my way with your sexy ass now shitty girl.”