#i swear i always think i'm gonna run out of content before the end of the chapter

[sabraeal]

All Pain Will Turn to Medicine, Chapter 8

[Read on AO3]

Written for the birthday of our favorite Australian, @meibemeibelline! It has been over a year since I have gotten a chapter of this one out (after being SO sure I was going to finish it in 2023 ha. ha. ha.) and after worrying that I might not have enough of a first draft to cover the whole content of this chapter...went and had to cut it in half again to keep this chapter from growing out of control 🤣

Herr Kruger’s inn towers over the other buildings in the quarter; three full stories stacked one atop the other like layers on a cake, its peaked roof jutting higher still. Half-timbered, like all the stores on the square, but not just the simple cross-hatched frames used to shore up the plaster. No, these were all arches and stars and clovers, as prettily patterned as the gingerbread houses in the pastry shop.

“There’s four floors,” Herr Kruger corrects, stairs creaking beneath his feet. “A fifth, too, if you don’t mind the rafters squeezing in on you. Pavo kept his room there for a while, before he nearly put his head through the roof.”

Anda may snort, but it’s not some fatherly boast. He’d broken skin— enough to have his mother sobbing, thinking his brains might be next, but it’d barely been more than a scratch, not deep enough to need stitching. Shirayuki had been the one to ruffle the plaster from his hair, giving a soothing cluck when he bleated out, don’t tell Herr Anda. She rubbed some salve into it, and with a firm recommendation to stick to higher ceilings, let it close up all on its own.

“The old building here has a half dozen rooms,” Herr Kruger presses on, leading them out onto the landing. “It’s the original inn, back from when my opa built it. But the new extension’s got twice that. Bigger ones, too.”

New extension, Oma would huff at the very whisper of the words. That old thing has been squatting here since before you were a twinkle in your father’s eye. Had the quarter split right down over the middle over it, when they put it up— half of them could hardly wait to tap a new keg to celebrate, and the other stood out on that very street and cursed the name Kruger down to its cornerstone. Your grandfather right at the head of them, of course.

A misty look would roll over her then, a wistful smile curling up at the corner of her mouth. Some days I used to wonder if they’d settle it the whole business with their fists. But it never quite came down to that. Pity, really.

“Bigger?” Anda cranes his neck around a jamb to give the room a cursory look. “Seems fine enough to me.”

Herr Kruger hooks his hands on his hips, a sigh blustering out from between his lips. “Most custom that stops in now has a man or two with them. For safety, mind you. A servant sometimes, or a guard, maybe both. Want ‘em to be as close as a good yell.”

It’s hardly the first time Shirayuki’s shuffled down the extension’s spine— they’d play here in the slow season, her and Pavo and a handful of the other children around their age, racing down the runner and pretending they were trapped inside some great cat, all curled up right against the street. But it’s never been so empty, so quiet that every footstep echoes down the hall, announcing her approach as gustily as a herald might a king.

The staccato taps of Anda’s cane burst like firecrackers into the silence, pop-pop-pop, too loud as he lingers at a threshold, his brows bent over a bemused hum. Already she can see the protest brewing behind his rumpled mouth, frustration fomenting before reason can react. Too many floors. Too many rooms. We’d be on our feet more often than we’d be off them.

Shirayuki sidles up beside him, peering over— or rather, around his shoulder. Anda may have stooped and she might have grew, but he still stood a head taller, able to see eye-to-eye with Obi while all she managed was an aching neck. “I suppose we wouldn’t have to worry about beds.”

He startles, annoyance hissing out between his teeth. “Beds, ha. This thing keeps on like it has and we’ll be adding them. Might even be best to put a few pallets in each room to start, keep down on the pacing. In the field hospitals, they’d have them laid out in one big room, a dozen rows deep, so all you had to do was look out and know where you were needed. Never more than a few steps from one beside to another…”

“’And the flux and flu could stretch their legs just as easily as we could.’” Shirayuki smiles up into his scowl. “That’s what you would always tell me, isn’t it, Meister?”

“I suppose I did.” He grunts, blowing a breath through thinned lips. “All right, Herr Kruger. You said there’s a back stair, isn’t there? Let’s see if it’s any more convenient than that death trap you had leading up.”

There’s a little knot beneath her breast as she watches him hobble off, putting force behind each tap of his cane. The hunch of his shoulders tells her she’s pinched his pride, and his sour stamp says he wants her to know it, to feel bad for the old man whose honor she’s impugned. She doesn’t, of course— he’s a petty little porcupine of a man, Seyha would tell her whenever she could settle long enough to bend her ear, it’s best not to give in to his sulks— but the light catches more gray the brown these days, and she’s come to suspect that cane has become more crutch than affectation, and--

And her fondness chokes her, right there in the door.

“Are you coming, girl?” he calls out, the clacking of his cane more cross by the word. “I didn’t bring you to test out the beds, too!”

Shirayuki smothers her smile. “In just a minute! I was…”

Her gaze drops to her skirt as she turns, trying to make sure she doesn’t catch herself on the doorway— she’s done that more than once here, the jambs always set a little too high or the latches reaching out just a little too far— but a ripple on the wall distracts her. Paper peels back from the plaster, and beneath it lay a pock-marked scar, a divot poorly patched.

The crater sits smooth beneath her fingertips, a little wider than two of them pressed together. It’s impossible to resist the twitch at the corner of her lips, to keep it from slanting into the softest smile. That had fit her whole hand once, fingers spread as wide as starfish as she marveled at the dint Pavo had made with just the top of his head. She’d been smaller then, and the wound freshly made; Pavo had cried thinking of the way his mother would scold them for sliding down the runners, trying to see how far they could go before either the carpet or their knees gave out. Neither of them expected the wall to give first. She couldn’t have been more than eight summers then, maybe nine, Pavo just a year older, and Obi—

She blinks. Obi hadn’t been there. It’d be years yet before he came, undersized and underfed, bleeding buckets on Herr Anda’s table. Those small hands hadn’t yet sewn flesh, hadn’t yet learned how to coax a reluctant cat of a boy into a bath, hadn’t yet become hers, with all the nicks and calluses and scrapes that made her Shirayuki.

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? It seems impossible that Obi wasn’t beside her then, because for as long as she’s been Shirayuki, there’s been an Obi just a few steps behind, a taunt poised at the tip of his tongue. In her memory, he's at her shoulder, helping Pavo to his feet and chuckling at the way he stumbled. She can see it so clearly; that same face just at the cusp adolescence, fat clinging to his cheeks even as the bones beneath tried to angle themselves into sharper planes. The odd stretch to his long bones, despite being the smallest in his year, like they were coiled for the growth spurt that would shoot him to a man’s height, just another summer or two away.

If he wasn’t with her then, then that means they were once separated. A tea cup without its saucer, a right hand without a left. And if they were once…

Then that means they could be again.

“Shirayuki.”

Her breath catches, fingers snapping away from the plaster. It’s too late, a polished cane lingers between her toes; when she looks up, there is Anda, far too much understanding in his dark eyes.

“Meister!” she gasp, gripping her skirt in both hands. “I…sorry. I’m coming…”

His palm lifts up, halting her where she stands. “No need, girl; the deed is done. Probably walk across the city twice each day all put together running ourselves ragged down these halls, but this old pile will do for our purposes.” His shoulders shrug, more agitated than resigned. “Not likely to get a better offer anyway. And we can’t pack them all in the apothecary like cord wood, now can we?”

“Ah…” Her mouth falls open, just a bit, before she catches it. “I suppose not.”

“That’s right.” His cane rattles in his hand, knocking against the floorboards. “Which means we’ve got to have the stocks to treat them. Last I checked we were running low on mallow and sweet flag. Certainly not enough to treat the whole quarter if they come begging at our door.”

“Ah…?” Her eyelashes flutter, gaze tracking from one end of the hall to the other. “But don’t you need help relocating what we have? The drawers—?”

“Kruger’s young buck will do me well enough, and some of the stablehands besides. Not like they’ve got much else to be doing.” He huffs, blustering in his usual way. “You’ll serve me much better out in those reeds, doing the things an apprentice is meant to do.”

“But, Herr…”

“Shirayuki.” His dark eyes rest on her, concerned and contrite all rolled into one. “Am I a gentle man? A generous employer?”

The answer to both is yes. Anda might be an exacting one, not given to coddling or comfort, but in the six years she’s been his apprentice, she’s never worked a single festival. When her hours began to stretch deeper into the night, he made a bed for her, a second home to keep her from needing to walk dark streets to her door. He might snipe at Obi when he lingers, but he’s never shooed him either, simply finding jobs that needs a young man’s strength and putting him to work.

There’s a hundred other small kindnesses that come to mind— her afternoons off, when the weather is fine; how he’s always peckish when the bakery’s at a lull and she can grab more than just a pie and few words at the counter— but she’s learned: in this and this alone, Anda prefers the expected over the earnest.

“No.” This lie is as poorly done as all her others, but this, at least, is one he wants to hear. “Of course not, Meister.”

“Then go take your afternoon already,” he grumbles, shoulders hunched around his ears. “Before I change my mind and make you count sprigs.”

*

This early in autumn, the trees cling to their summer plumage, the nights not yet cold enough to gild green to gold, and for gold to ignite into fiery reds and orange. At yet, when she arrives at the water’s edge, struggling through some stubborn tall grass overgrown from the late summer rains, it’s not green and gray that ripples across its surface. No, the vibrant blooms of marsh chestnut clinging to their rafts of spade-shaped leaves. They float at the deepest parts, bobbling like the candles children send across it at Samhain; it’s no river to guide wayward souls, but they make due. Shirayuki, for her part, has never heard a soul complain.

She’s tempted to, however, taking in the pond’s height. For as much as the heat lingered these past few weeks, it hasn’t done much to the waterline. A good thing for the mill, she supposes, but a pain for the girl that’s been sent out to wade in its shallows.

With a sigh, she toes off one boot. No point in putting off the inevitable. Her stocking bunches under her hands as she works it down from knee to ankle, slipping off her foot with far more ease than it took to put them on. Her bare toes land on damp grass, and it’s cold too, clammy. But with a stiffening of her resolve— and her spine— she lets another boot and stocking join the pile.

The soil is moist enough to stick to her feet, shedding from her soles with even the slightest shift in weight. As a child she would revel in it, sinking her toes deep into the ground until dirt embedded itself so deep it’d take a week’s worth of baths to get it all out. Now her teeth simply clench, contemplating whether her skirt or the waterline is higher.

“Better to be safe than sorry,” she murmurs, hiking it from knee-length to somewhere around mid-thigh. Her pale skin blazes like a beacon in the overcast light, visible from the far shore, but there’s no one around her to see her, none of Oma’s old friends present to cluck and scold and sniff at her over what sort of behavior a good girl was meant to show. The kind that married young and popped out a half dozen children before she could have second thoughts.

Like that Suki Bauer, they’d say, proud of themselves for thinking of it. Two girls already and a boy probably already on the way.

If only they knew how high her hemline had to go to get Gen to jump the broom, Obi would tell her, grin as slanted as his stare, they might suggest you wear yours up around your ears.

She’s been behind the counter then, a pair of elder ladies eyeing them from where they browsed the shelves, and she’d clamped her teeth tight over her lip to muffle her laugh down to a snort. Bad enough that he said those sorts of things where anyone could hear, the last thing he needed was encouragement.

But now her fingers flex, a strange itch burrowing beneath her skin. There’s a heat there, just under the surface, one that radiates out from the molten place in her belly and— and she shivers without touching the water at all. Wonder what you could do with someone who wanted you, then?

Her breath catches, throat so tight it nearly chokes her, and ah, she’ll take her chance with the mud and the leeches, as long as she can be free from… from this, whatever it is.

Shirayuki doesn’t so much step as slide down the shore, hands flying out to keep steady. The muck sucks at her toes, chilly and unpleasant, soft enough that some of it even clouds up around her feet. It’s the slimiest pair of slippers she’s ever had the misfortune of wearing. A small school of pucker-mouthed guppies crowd her as she gains her bearings, gumming at the bubbles caught on the downy hairs dotting her shins— better company than leeches to be sure, but it tickles, sending the smallest shivers beneath her skin.

“Ah…” Her teeth grit tight as she wades through the muck, bracing her against the chill of the water. “Well, there’s no point to standing around!”

On a warmer day she might kneel, letting the water cool her as long blades and gnarled roots piled high in the basket floating beside her. But today each shift in the waterline brings a gasp, that run of warm weather all but leeched from the pond’s memory. So she bends instead of bathes, questing fingers digging deep beneath the soaked soil, feeling for the hard rootstalks hidden beneath the murk and muck. Sweet flag— calamus, its tag reads, once it was boiled down and turned to oil or dried powder— wasn’t the sort of the plant that rooted deep, entrenching itself the way that the oaks and the willows did just up on shore. Instead it runs parallel between plants, a dozen little knotty shoots tangling around each other to keep each sprout from toppling.

A practiced tug pulls three of them out together; they all share the same rootstalk, the first plant showing the most robust rats’ nest of pale shoots and the third only a handful of spindly ones. A fair specimen, for her first go. And she’d need a dozen more like it to even scratch the surface of what they need to replenish their stores.

It’s hardly difficult work; her first year as an apprentice, Anda had brought her out here in the dead heat of summer and showed her how to feel for the thickest rootstalks, plucking only the most hearty plants to boil down. She’d been down to her chemise, fingers and toes so pruned it’d taken her a day to lose the wrinkles. Her whole body had singed to a light pink after all those hours in the sun, but she’d plucked enough to keep them stocked for nearly a year. The motion comes to her easy as breathing now, her fingers slipping along stalks and roots, wiggling when she things she’s found a good clot.

There’s one that gets stubborn— a big, chunky knot of a thing, holding what has to be five plants together. The roots are so gnarled beneath it she has to work her palm under and around to get a good grip. A grip she does, hauling on it until roots snap like stitches under her hands, toes curling in the mud to brace her. And she’s got it, she really does, the whole thing pulled like a tooth, but—

“You know, half-pint,” a familiar voice drawls from the shore, “if you were just gonna splash around in the water, you should have told me.”

It surprises her. Enough that she tugs too quick, too strong, and— and Shirayuki isn’t clumsy, no matter how Obi likes to tease, but with that knotty clump of roots and long grass in her grip, center of gravity shifted to yank rather than hold, it’s no surprise she tumbles. Topples really, like a tower of dishes stacked askew, sweet flag flying from her hands and basket sent skittering. When she falls, bottom-first, there's only water to catch her.

Which would be fine enough all on its own. With the soft silt lining the pond’s floor, there’d be no injury save to her pride. Wet skirts wouldn’t be pleasant, but she’d suffered worse under Anda’s exacting tutelage. The day might not be as hot as the ones before, but she’d dry quick enough picking mallow from the dryer parts of the marsh.

Or at least, that’s how it should have been, save for the fact that she’s waded right to where the shore drops off, knee-height to one side and waist-high on the other. When she tips over, there’s no clacking of teeth as her tailbone hits the bottom, but instead—

Instead a splash, murky water closing over her head as her fall slows to a float.

It only takes her a moment to find her feet— a breath, really, one that leaves her sputtering as she breaks the surface, glaring up at the grinning mouth on the shore.

“Obi,” she gasps, trying for stern but only managing sopping. “What were you—?”

“Sorry there, Miss.” He hardly sounds it as he slips down the shore after her, hand held out like an olive branch. “Didn’t mean to spook you. Just saw you splashing around in the shallows there and thought you might ask me to join.”

“Splashing?” Her hand grips onto his, a cascade of pond water dripping down her arm for the effort. “I wasn’t trying to just play around in here, Obi! I was—”

As firm as Obi holds her, his strong fingers latched around her wrist like a vise, she slips. Not all at once, oh no, but just enough to catch her breath, and when he goes to fix his grip—

Water closes over her once more, seeping through to her already soaked skin, and oh, she’s had quite enough of this.

“That was an accident, Miss!” he swears, hands waving overhead. “Really, the water went and made you all slippery, and I, er…”

She surges up, gripping him right below his elbows, and pulls.

Obi surfaces with a squawk, pond water running in rivulets down the sharp angles of his face. “Miss,” he huffs, finding his feet. “That was dirty—”

“You dropped me!” she reminds him, chin held high. “It was only fair.”

“Fair?” He wades toward her with a purpose, mischief dancing in his eyes like the townsfolk swore lights did over the pond. “Oh, I’ll drop you all right. I’ll drop you right—”

His arm snakes out, cinching around her waist before she can do much more than flounder, lifting her up off her feet. There’s a moment where he holds her, her back pressed tight against his front, heat radiating off of him even soaked to the bone, and her breath catches, heat flushing her cheeks, and—

And with a grunt, he throws her, cold water enveloping her as she struggles back to the surface. “Obi!”

There’s no need to call for him, not when he’s already trudging toward her mouth curled towards mischief.

“No!” she shrieks, a laugh bubbling out beneath it. “Don’t you dare!”

Her hand barely skims the water, but somehow a bucket’s worth flies up from it, slapping him like a wave does the shore. It stops him, at least for a moment, but then he’s on her again and she— she yelps, springing back, cupping her hands now to splash him, breathless as his grasping hands reach for her, as relentless as his grin—

And she slips. It’s a rock’s fault, mossy with algae and right where she needs her foot to brace for the next splash. But it goes out from under her instead, and she expects to fall, expects to end up once more beneath the surface, this time without any of Obi’s assistance, but instead—

Instead he grabs her, one hand on either hip, and drags her to him. It’s enough to startle a shriek out of her, bubbling into a giggle as her hands brace against his chest. She struggles in his hold, his body unbearably hot even through the dampness of his shirt.

“Let me go!” she gasps, not meaning a single word. Her fingers knot at his shoulders, wet fabric squishing beneath her fingers. “You’re keeping me from my work!”

Her knees find his hips; a more solid place to steady herself than the shifting silt beneath her feet. Obi coughs out a pained, “Miss.”

But it’s no use, she’s too busy trying to squirm herself away, laughter warring with her words as she blurts out, “Herr Anda told me to collect some calamus! You’re going to have to explain to him why—”

“Shirayuki.” He shakes her shoulders, but that’s hardly what get her attention, not when his mouth wraps so seriously around the syllable of her name. His voice lowers as he says it, dragging it across the gravel in his throat until it leaves her as scoured as the sounds themselves, a hot sting scraping over her skin.

Their eyes meet— too close, now that she’s noticed, their noses a finger’s breadth from brushing. His breath fans out over her, catching on a cheekbone before it ruffles the small, wispy hairs by her ears. It’s…intimate, too much and not enough all at once, and she wishes she could understand why her palms itch to grab him, to bring him closer still—

“I’m leaving,” he grounds out. Her fingers spring open in shock, and only his grip around her waist moors her. “Seyha is taking me to Port City.”

Her lips are too numb to mumble out more than a, “When?”

“A day.” He shrugs, like it hardly matters, but his eyes slip away, fixing somewhere past her elbows, not daring to look at her face. “Maybe two. I don’t know.”

Her feet skim down to the silt, holding her steady, the way they always have, all on their own. Obi watches her, eyes darting across her face over and over, as if she’s a book he can’t quite make out the words on, hoping that an extra read or two might make her meaning clear.

“She’s eager to get going,” he says. There’s a gulf between them now, water rushing to fill it. “Never could be tied down long, could she? Even as big as she is. We could leave now and in two days, maybe she’d finally waddle to the gate.”

She wants to laugh, to scold, to give into the usual ebb and flow of their banter and let it pull her under, make her forget that there’s anything to worry about at all, but—

But it’s a lie. One that splits around the shape of his meaning, sounding out its edges while never quite getting to the truth: it’s not safe for Seyha to be here among all this sickness. And it’s not safe for her to go alone, not carrying a child so close to term.

It will have to be Obi that goes with her. That will have to leave her, right when…when…

His smile fades, mouth finally reflecting the desperation in his eyes. “I didn’t know until last night. After you…”

The gears turn then; she can see it behind his eyes, his too-clever mind puzzling out the arrangement of bodies in the bakery last night, of what sort of conversation could be heard through the stockroom walls. “Did you…?”

“Come on.” Her hands slips from his grip, and she tries on a smile that hardly fits. “If you’re going to soak me to the bone, you might at least help me finish.”

His stare fixes on his empty hand, a strange smirk slanting up one side of his mouth. “That’s right.” His hand curls shut. “What’s a little back breaking labor between friends?”

*

One glance at the pattern of drips she leaves on the apothecary floor and Anda gives a great harrumph, telling her to leave her bounty of shoots and stalks on the county before she heads home.

“I can come back,” she offers, less confident and far more helpless than she’d like. “It won’t take long for me to change clothes, and then I can help with—”

His hand waves, the politest dismissal Anda can ever bear to give. “And then have you sick when I need you most? Go, girl. There’s nothing to do here that I can’t handle myself.”

“I’m nearly dry.” A statement that isn’t as factual as she’d hoped it would be, even after spending a hour on shore collecting mallow. Too little sun, too little heat, and she’d only managed damp instead of soaked. “If we’re going to set up the inn, then I should really—”

“Get a good night’s rest.” Anda’s forehead rucks up like his mouth, impatience and frustration leaving gouges in his skin. “Herr Kruger’s boy is handling most of it. Obi too, if Shou’s finally got a collar on him.”

“But I can—!”

“Catch your death, that’s what you’re going to do if you keep loitering in my shop like this,” he huffs, giving the floor a rap for good measure. “Go home. It might be a while yet before you get to do it again.”

Shirayuki lets out a sigh. “That’s what you said last night.”

“And I’m going to keep saying it.” His brows knit the same as his jaw, stubborn all over. “Things like this, they don’t stay contained. Illness spreads, the gates come down, and people panic. Enjoy this last bit of sanity while you can, girl. Because once it stops…”

He gazes out the window, knuckles white where he grips his cane. “We’ll see what’s left.”

*

Anda might pretend to be an exacting employer, the sort that expected odd hours and long nights with little thanks in return, but the truth of it was he was merely a prickly personality with a rather permissive policy when it came to the actual hours she worked. Some days she labored into the wee hours; mostly when a patient was in labor herself, though there’d been more than a handful of brows that needed mopping and stubborn fevers that refuse to break that kept her worn thin for weeks as they raced through the quarter.

But there had been more where Anda shooed her out the door, telling her the weather was too hot to have more than one body in the shop, or that there was no need for her to hike all the way back to gossip with him once she was done with her rounds. Enough that habit has her reach for an apron as she steps into the pub, ready to lend a hand before the regulars stomped in, eager to unwind from their wearying work.

But the taproom is silent, not a soul in it besides Oma, wiping a cloth over a counter so clean it nearly gleams. Her hands drop to her sides, stomaching rolling over to follow.

“Shirayuki!” There’s a warmth in Oma’s smile that thins before it can make it to her eyes. “You’re back so soon! And here I was, just thinking what I might put on for dinner. I think there’s a roast…”

“Ah!” She shakes her head, a palm flying up between them. “I don’t really think I could…I mean, thank you, but it’s been a long day. I think I might just grab something light to tide me over. We still have some of that cheese, don’t we? The one Seyha’s friend sent in from Clarines? If you don’t have any plans for it…?”

“I don’t,” Oma sighs, the wrinkles deepening at the corner of her eyes. “So, it’s the both of you today is it? Careful, spurn a woman’s cooking too often and she might find insult in it.”

“Nothing could keep me from one of your meals if I thought I could stay awake long enough to eat it.” Shirayuki offers a weary smile. “Is Opa feeling all right? Usually he’s first in line for your roast.”

“Oh, you know how he is. Got a bit of a head cold and suddenly nothing’s quite right.” She shakes her head, fond. “He’s just got to sulk about it for a bit, then he’ll come around. Maybe if he smells it cooking.”

If he’s got enough of a cold to complain about how his food tastes, Shirayuki doubts he’ll be smelling much of anything. But she knows better than to say anything but, “Maybe.”

“Well, off with you then.” Oma waves at her, imperious as a queen on her throne. “Go scrounge up what you’re planning to stomach. But wake up hungry, would you? If I don’t feed you something I’m afraid Anda will run you so thin you’ll slip through the floor boards.”

“I will,” she says, hoping this knot in her stomach doesn’t make a liar out of her. “I promise.”

*

Shirayuki may eat light, but it does nothing to settle her stomach-- or the pit of dread nestled at the center of it. It had been easy to ignore it as she waded in the reeds, too busy trying to keep herself steady in the shallows to think of the inn’s echoing halls, or the quiet of the pub’s taproom, or even the brittle parchment of Goro Bauer’s skin. No space to think of the halo of blonde waves spread over Maki Fischer’s pillow or her mother trying to stifle her sobs in the pantry, not when her ankles itch in the tall grass, hunting for mallow.

But it comes to her now as the minutes tick right over midnight, the hours inching closer and closer to the dawn. Every body twisted in its bed, sweating out a sickness too stubborn to relinquish its dominion; every face peering around the sickroom door, strained with worry. She’s responsible for all of them, every soul in this quarter, and the longer this drags on, days turning to weeks turning to more—

She’s failing them.

The glass rattles in its casement— from the wind maybe, or simply the pub settling on its old bones. Laying here, she can’t know which; there’s no tree to give away a breeze with its swaying, the same way there had never been one to give an easy answer to Obi’s entrance. She’d never discovered how he’d done it either; for all that he’d though getting Shou a wife would grant him more free hours, he’d come away with less. What time he did spend with her tended to be either between batches, when he could steal across the street to bother her, or when Oma put dinner on the table— and in either case, he used the door.

And now she would never know, because she— because he—

He was leaving. And she…

She wishes that it was warm enough to leave the window open. That he might see it, however he used to, and know that she wanted him to come, to lay down beside her the way he used to when everything felt right in her world.

That’s the thing about growing up, she thinks, the quarter bleary as her eyes drift shut. Once things start feeling wrong, they just never feel right again.

*

She must sleep at some point. There's a vague memory of her mattress slipping dipping beneath the weight of a shadow, of a too-warm body holding her close. But when she’s awoken, the sky still heavy with night, there’s no one beside he. Only Oma, grip hard on her shoulder as she shakes her awake.

“Shirayuki,” she gasps, hushed. “Get up, please.”

Shirayuki blinks blearily, trying to find some hint of the sun on the horizon. “What time is it?”

“Please,” Oma says, so dire she’s awake all at once. “It’s your grandfather.”

[bi-writes]

mercenary!ghost is dead inside. he wonders what it leaves behind on his pretty little bunny.

notes about reader: as always, reader is curvy and ghost knows exactly what he wants to do with all that ass

more mercenary!ghost (part 2/?)

word count: 5k

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, pet names (luv, pet, bunny + rabbit, puppy), dark!ghost, mean!ghost, toxic!ghost, ghost is thicc, mentions of violence and gore + murder and extortion, mw3 spoilers, mentions of ghost's canon trauma, tw smoking, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink (reader described as much smaller, manhandled easily), suggestive touching and oral (fem!receiving), cumplay, mentions of dubcon but relationship/dynamics are consensual, simon "i eat pussy like a god" riley

his phone is ringing. it surprises him, the sound of it. it's not familiar, to hear it ring, to see a name on the screen of it and recognize it.

there was no one left to call. not until now.

he adjusts his hold on his rifle, slipping an earbud into his ear.

"'ello?"

"almost back yet?" it's you. rattling your cage.

"'m busy."

"i know--" he clicks his tongue when you say this, annoyed. "but you're not back yet."

"i'll be back when i'm back."

"yeah, but when is that?"

brat.

"'s this how it's gonna be? botherin' me when 'm out?"

"uh huh. so when are you gonna be back?"

"when 'm back."

you huff at that, and ghost snarls a bit under the mask, adjusting the scope and peering through it. there is movement, and he focuses. then your soft voice sounds again, "are you with someone else?"

there's a grunt, and then a firm, "no." and it is the truth, and you know it is, because he doesn't care enough to lie to you. you sigh on the other end, staring up at the ceiling with a wobbly bottom lip.

"we done 'ere?" he asks after a long pause. you sniffle, closing your eyes.

"take me with you next time."

he hangs up before he answers. needy little puppy he has, he knows this. he isn't unfamiliar with this kind of dynamic. it wasn't unlike the job he used to have--a lieutenant, a man in charge, in command of other needy puppies that needed to be put in their place. he wonders often if johnny would have liked you, but you are enough trouble as it is on your own.

a pet dies and another is bought; whatever ghost is, he outlives them.

he attracts them, he thinks. the ones who ache to belong. from the first moment he met you, he knows that is why he felt his blood run a little warmer at the sight of you--it is something in your eyes, something he recognizes, something that he knows tastes so fucking good. there is predator, and there is prey, and then there is the in-between. the purgatory of those who have no idea who they are. they must be shown. they have to be taught, and if they fall into the wrong hands, they are mangled and chewed through.

he wonders for a moment if maybe his mother was one of them. then he remembers that it doesn't matter what she was, because his father had black running through his veins. the same black that simon thinks he sees in the mirror--and sometimes it bleeds onto his face, he swears it's there, hiding underneath the eye-black he paints on himself.

when he was younger, he used to hide from his reflection because of it. the rot of the other half that he was made of, it terrified him. he feared being consumed by it. he was afraid of letting it show, he was afraid of scaring other people.

but when he crawled himself out of his early grave and buried the good half of himself, he didn't flinch in the mirror any longer. he let himself linger there, and when he swiped the black against his pale skin for the first time, he remembers thinking that maybe it had always been there. that he doesn't recognize himself without it because this is what i am, something made of ash, something that shouldn't be here, the remnants of something that touched a flame too hot and swallowed something foul. rancid.

and maybe that is what he's been doing since then--maybe that is what the hollow place is that he feels inside, maybe it's the half that he buried that he wishes so fucking badly to hold onto because it's the only thing that distracted him from feeling like the thing that he truly is. and maybe that is why he died again when johnny did; it was too late to realize that the hollowness is back, and it is deeper, and it hurts now, fuck, take it back, take it away--

and maybe that is why he hates you in some way. because the space is gone. it is filled again; and you fit so perfectly there, and it will happen again, and he has no idea how many more times he can lose the redeemable half of him until there is nothing left to redeem.

but black still runs in his veins, and he is selfish, and he will hold onto it until it's gone. he doesn't care. he is a thing, he is not real, and it doesn't matter to him if he will die again when you do, because while he has you, he will drink what you give him. salvation, redemption, painting his blood red, whatever the fuck it is that you are meant to give him, he will take it, and he will devour it, and he doesn't care what he leaves behind.

he wants it. it's selfish, it's cruel, but he wants it. everything he touches fades away; if he was something real, he would cut you off. but he isn't, and he doesn't care, and he's curious to know what the stain of himself will look like on you.

beautiful you. such a pretty girl. soft like a bunny, glittering eyes--if he was a poet, he might say they are filled with starlight. but ghost is a predator; the shine of you only makes his mouth water.

you were his the moment he saw you for the very first time. he was not inclined to ask your permission, but it wouldn't have mattered--he knew as soon as your eyes met, really met, that he had you. hook, line, and sinker--there it is, there she is, what she really is inside. there is a light there inside of you, he could see it.

he is going to snuff it out. he doesn't know why, but he will, because he wants to. he has an urge to kill something, and he thinks whatever it is that swims in you will do just fine. he knows, somehow, that you will look beautiful covered in it--in the tears when he breaks, when he tears, when he destroys, you will look beautiful, and he won't stop until he takes all of it. he knows, too, he doesn't know how he knows but he knows, that you will let him.

he crossed another name off his list today. he watched them on a lonely rooftop all morning, and it rained. he watched them move back and forth, between doorways, answering phone calls. he doesn't ask questions, so he wonders occasionally what it is they did to warrant a visit from him.

they could've stolen. maybe they betrayed; that is a popular motivation. lovers' quarrels--he knows what it is to die for love, but dying for love at the wrong end of his rifle isn't in marriage vows. maybe they were in the wrong place at the wrong time; maybe they saw what they shouldn't have, and it was enough for a visit from their guardian angel.

sometimes he thinks that what he does is at their mercy; because if he didn't do it, if he didn't make it so quick, so easy, they would suffer. at least this way, by his hand, they would never know. he brings comfort. ease.

it is the same with you, it has to be. he closes his fist and bangs on the outside of your door. the wood rattles under the force, and when you open the door, the look that you give him only solidifies his assumption. if it wasn't him keeping you, then it would be someone else. someone else would look into those eyes, and they would take from you, but they wouldn't be like him. he takes, and he will take, but you won't know that you are empty until it's too late.

that is merciful, isn't it? this kind of love is forgiving, right? the kind that shields, the white lies that protect, that blindfold that hides--this is humane. he is a thing, a predator, yes, but he isn't like the others.

right?

you step aside, and he has to maneuver his shoulders to make it past the narrow doorway. as you close the door, your eyes linger. he wears a dark rain jacket over a long sleeve, dark cargo pants tucked into heavy boots. he wears a holster on one meaty thigh, but it only holds a small pack there. his balaclava is plain, hiding all but his dark eyes, and the hood of his jacket casts a long shadow over him. the gloves he wears are of a utility variety--he worked today. if you ask him, he will say yes, but he will not tell you anything else.

sometimes, you aren't sure if he just doesn't care or if he is trying to protect you from some ugly truth. but then you remember that there are no ugly truths with ghost; the truth is as it is, nothing more and nothing less, and if he hides it from you, it is because you simply don't need to know.

you lock the door behind you, leaning against it. he moves through your apartment with ease. he has been here before, but it feels as if he has always been here. he knows how to rattle the balcony door to get the lock to free, and you don't remember showing him how to unlatch it. you busy yourself with putting the kettle to boil as you see him light a match, a cigarette between two gloved fingers.

it's a nasty vice. it blackens the lungs, shrinks the organ, addicts the user. but it tastes good. and it feels good. and it isn't what will kill him, because this isn't real.

you come outside, a mug of tea in your hand, and you set it down beside him. he flicks ash off the cigarette, spreading his legs wide as he sits there, watching the street below. it's quiet because it's raining, and while the balcony is covered, it wets the toes of his boots.

he looks so good. he spreads himself out in the chair, taking up so much space, and his hand that doesn't hold the cigarette is spread out along his thigh, running absentmindedly down the material of his pants. it's hard to describe the breadth of him--ghost is just big. his hands, the height of him, the space that you can tuck yourself into his chest. he could curl you around his arm, wrap you up with both of them, trap you there. you don't hate the thought of that, the idea of him keeping you there like that. you think about the width of his hand, how it might look with the black of his glove spread out across your throat, holding you there, keeping you there.

you think about what it would be like to be under his mercy. his control. to feel the press of those fingers against the hollow of your throat, knowing he could crush your windpipe with just one perfectly placed squeeze. he would know where to touch. he would know where to tug just right to cut the air off.

it's too bad you didn't know you already belonged to him.

"can i have some?"

you nod to the cigarette burning in his hand. his eyes flicker up to look at you for a moment before he adjusts in the chair. he shrugs finally.

"'f you want."

you put a hand on his shoulder, lowering yourself to sit on his lap. you wear nothing except for a loose shirt, one that covers you to your thighs, but when you sit, it rides up. he takes the weight of you easily, not looking strained in the slightest, one arm supporting the thickness of your thighs with a firm grasp.

you lean forward a little, into him, and he brings the cigarette to your lips. you wrap your lips around it, taking a breath. you want to revel in that fact that you're putting your lips around something his own have touched, and then you start to cough.

the air burns. you turn your head to the side and wheeze; you hear a condescending chuckle, and you go warm with embarrassment. but his hand rubs small circles into your back, coaxing the smoke out of your lungs. you take in a few strong breaths to clear the smoke, and then you look away from him.

"not a smoker, eh?"

"that was...my first time."

when your head turns back to face him shyly, he tilts his head to the side. you cannot see any of his expression, but you imagine he's curious. the way his eyes look you up and down tell you that much.

"wot, you saw me do it, 'n ya think y'can take it?"

you don't respond, just keep your eyes on his. your fingers move, spreading across the solidity of his chest, and you rest them there. you lean in a little more, your face only a few mere inches from his own, and it gives you an opportunity to examine him so close.

his mask is weathered, the skull mouth painted along the mouth a little faded and messy with wear. he smells like cigarettes and earth, wet soil and ash and something warm. the eye-black that is smeared across his eyes fades out at the edges, and the paleness of his skin peeks out a little. you know the black covers the tiredness under his eyes, the lines that must be set in his face from how much he frowns. he has blonde lashes and dark eyes, and what intrigues you the most is that you can see the jagged edge of a healed scar peeking out from under the fabric that hides him.

he frowns, and you see the furrowing of the skin underneath. you meet his eyes again, and it feels surreal to see him in this much detail. you don't think this is a common occurrence; you have a feeling that anyone that has ever gotten this close to him did not live to talk about it the next day.

he has never told you, but you know death follows him. you have never seen what war has done to him, you can't see the rough skin and the patches where skin has been shredded or torn off, but you know, sitting so close to him, that he leaves bodies behind him and terrifies the ones that approach.

you wonder if you should be afraid, but then you remember that if he wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now. he does not want to kill you.

he wants to eat you.

you have asked him once what he does for work. he said he used to work for the military, but he didn't say anymore. when you asked what he did now, he said he was an independent contractor.

a contractor for what, you did not get the answer to. just that he was his own boss now, and no one told him what to do anymore.

"what did you do today?" you ask him finally, reaching up timidly and slipping a thumb down the line of his strong jaw.

"work."

"and how was it?"

he does not answer, and your eyes flicker back up to his, studying his reaction. he doesn't give one, just eyes the line of your throat as you swallow hard.

"a good pay day then?" you ask, and he hums at that. you smile a little, reaching up with both hands and cupping his masked cheeks gently. "must be good at what you do."

his face flickers a bit at that. he sniffs, looking to the side before back at you, shrugging those broad shoulders of his. one of his big hands comes up and slips up the shirt you wear, gripping your ass firm.

"good at other things, too," is all he says, and you smooth one of your thumbs down the row of painted teeth along the mouth of the mask. his breath comes out warm under your thumb.

"like killing people?"

his hand stiffens against you, and he glares up at you. a huff of a breath comes out, and you tense a little. he flicks the cigarette onto the ground, reaching up with that hand and gripping you around the jaw. your face fits nicely in his hand, and you might enjoy it if it wasn't so aggressive, the way he touched you. he shakes you a little, bringing you close enough that you can feel the wetness of his snarl against your lips.

"that wot y'think i am? some kind o'murderer?" he spits. "think 'm some kind o'fuckin' killer?"

a wave of tears prick the sides of your eyes, and you grip his wrist tight, trying to keep the pressure off of you.

"i know what you do," you whisper. "i know what you do, it's pretty obvious."

"yeah? 'n ya think it's a good idea to fuckin' talk t'me this way? ask me questions you don't want the answers to?"

you narrow your eyes, and you stare back at him, matching the intensity of his own. this makes him laugh; there is no humor in his laugh, but he laughs, and he rattles your whole head as he brings you close enough that your lips brush against the fabric of his mask.

"oh...you want me to tell ya...want me to spill all my bloody secrets..." he growls. you let out a whine when he brings you even closer, smashing your lips against the front of his mask. you choke out a whimper, and you swear you feel his tongue trying to find yours through the barrier. "think y'can handle the lot like me, bunny, and you can't. blood on m'ledger would fuckin' drown you."

and it is the truth, he knows it is, and he wouldn't lie to you because he just doesn't fucking care enough to think up a lie. he didn't serve so many years, he didn't give so much time to what he thought was righteous to come home and paint war as a pretty picture to civilians like you. war is blood, war is loss, war is what takes and takes and takes from a man, until they are things. until they come home and realize they have no idea what they were fighting for when they seem the same dirty streets they left behind.

when their brothers still get killed. when their families still come apart. when their lovers betray them, when they break their hearts--when they realize they are glorified weapons for the politicians that don't care about them, that send them away to die, that refuse to support them when they come home without the goodness that they left with.

he gave his entire life up for this. they took his family, they took the only half of him that mattered, and what was it for? nothing waits for him at home. there is no one in his bed, there is no one to call, there was no money in the bank.

there is only the memories that manifest into nightmares, and the blue sky that reminds him of blue eyes. the blue eyes that he could not save, the blue eyes that haunt him, that ask him, desperately--let the bonnie lass go, LT. you cannae save'er.

but he is a lieutenant, and he was a sergeant, and he didn't take fucking orders from anyone anymore anyways.

you are his, and you look so pretty in that cage. pretty enough to eat. pretty enough to take away. pretty enough to poison, because he thinks maybe this is the only way to make himself feel better.

he wants to see your blood run just as black as his own. misery loves company, they say, and it would please him, the selfish thing that he is, to see you just as ugly inside as he is.

"but you want it," he says, and your eyes flick back to meet his. you don't smile, but your gaze doesn't falter. you just stare back at him, and he laughs again, because he sees something he recognizes there. something inhuman, something a little feral. it is inside you.

and he wants it out.

he stands, leaning over you. you're forced to walk backwards, and he doesn't stop until you're back inside. he closes the balcony door behind him, putting a hand on your chest before forcing you backwards with a firm push. the back of your knees hit the couch, and you squeak as you fall back against it.

you almost think he's going to pounce on you. rip your panties to fabric shreds, spread you wide, and fuck you into the cushions. you think he's going to take from you, because that is what predators do, but you're almost taken back by the sight of him lowering to his knees.

he's kneeling. this behemoth of a thing kneels in front of you, and you yelp with a start when he grips you by the back of your knees and yanks you forward, manhandling you until he has your legs tossed over his shoulders. he grunts as he pushes the shirt up to expose your cotton panties, a soft red pair that you know he will ruin when he's done with you.

your back arches as he buries the front of his mask against your cunt, taking a deep breath through the mask. it's filthy, the way he takes in the scent of you, and if you were sane, you would push him away, the nasty thing he is. but you don't--the gesture floods your insides with need, and you squirm in his grip.

"stay still, little rabbit," he says, but it's a demand. he moves one hand further up your thighs, and you whimper softly when his thumb squishes the slit of you through your panties. his eyes brighten when he notices the fabric darkening as soon as he does this, a growing wet spot dampening your underwear. "look at 'er...drippin'...you hungry, luv?"

"uh...ngghhh..."

"oh, fer fuck's sake, haven't even got m'mouth on ya, and y'can't speak already?"

he laughs, because he is mean, because he is a thing that just wants and takes, and what he wants is between your thighs, and you are easy. you want to be more of a challenge; you want to make him work for it, but his eyes flicker up to meet your own, and there is nothing you can do. there is something said whenever your eyes are on each other--you have no idea what it is, but it tames him, and it keeps you.

"he woulda loved you," he says suddenly. you frown, opening your mouth to say something, to ask who he is, but his index finger pulls your panties aside, and he buries his masked face into the wet seam of your pretty pussy.

you cry out at the feeling, your thighs closing around his head instinctively. your back bows even further, a taut, imaginary string being pulled inside of you, and ghost laughs again, because you're so warm and cute and needy. he pushes his face further into you, nuzzling his nose into the place where he knows your clit is, and he draws the most delicious moans out of you. he smiles under the mask when one of your shaking hands grips the back of his head, pushing him deeper, his mask soaking with the slick of you.

he continues the torture for a time unknown. your brain isn't working; you have no concept of time. all you can think about is the way your legs shake and the grip your hands have on the back of his head as you grind your hips up into him. your eyes flutter open and closed, and you push your shirt up a little so he can see your nipples harden with how much everything aches for him.

it feels so good. he grunts, and then a low groan leaves him when you maneuver his head, shoving his nose up against your clit again and slanting your hips up and into him. you're getting off on this--fucking the front of his mask to feel something, to feel this thing you have been chasing for your entire life.

you saw it in him the first time you met him. the knowing when your eyes met for the first time--whatever it is that you have been chasing for your entire life, it is in him, and you need it.

the thing that poets chase. the rush that a high brings. the missing half of you, the warmth of a love you've never had, the shape of something in your cunt that you know he can fill.

you think you might faint when you feel his tongue finally. you can't see his face; he hides it with a wet mask, but his tongue is inside of you now, and you can't help the crying moans that leave you as he laps at your folds like a thirsty dog. maybe he is thirsty--you can hear the lewd, deep swallowing sounds he makes as he tightens his grip on your thighs and bobs his head in time with your stuttering, pleasure-chasing hips.

he drinks. he drinks you insane. his tongue suckles at your clit, then lets it go with a filthy pop to swirl inside your tightening cunt and eat the pretty bunny he has been thinking about far too much. when he works, before he sleeps, in the shower, in the mirror as he covers the scars of him that he never wants to share anymore. the taste of you is enough to distract him--here, between your thighs, your sweetness in his mouth and your moans filling his ears, he doesn't think about anything else. it's impossible. he has been chasing the void for a long time, and all he had to do was eat a pretty girl to get to it?

he knows it now, has decided it already. your cunt is redemption, and he will lose himself in it to make it reality.

"ghost! please!"

your cries shatter his resolve. he folds you in half as he leans over you now, his hands sliding up your soft stomach before he grips the weight of your breasts in his rough hands and squeezes firmly. you whine, cry, moan, beg--you beg for more, for him to please, please, please--! it feels so good, i want it! i want you, i want it all, i want--i want--what does she want?

me? the thing? what isn't real? because ghost knows that if he gives in, it is over. he signs something away, and he has done this before, and suddenly he is afraid.

when he did this before, he was left something else. he is afraid of what will happen the next time. what will happen to him, what might become of him, because what he is now terrifies his reflection, and he has no idea what it'll do.

"please! please! please!"

but you're crying, and you taste so good. and as he laves into the prettiest pussy he's ever had, the sweetest, he remembers why he is here. he isn't here because he loves you. he isn't here because he cares, he isn't here because it is good.

he is here because whatever he is needs a new host, and you are what it wants. soft, pretty, naïve--you have let it inside, and now he will eat and chew and bite until he sucks something out of you.

maybe the good. maybe blood. but it doesn't matter.

he slides his hands back down, using both thumbs to spread your folds apart, and he pulls back to look at you. you're a sloppy mess, your little hole puckering and pulsing, your clit a throbbing bud that begs him to stop teasing. he looks up at where you're a whimpering, crying thing, tears sliding down your puffy cheeks, and he snarls before he leans down and spits right on your clit, watching it drip into your cunt and swirl between what seeps from you.

"say it."

"nnh...huh?"

"say who you belong to."

when you take a moment to answer, he leans down and licks a fat stripe over your clit, making you sob. you reach down, cupping the underside of his jaw. it's bare, and your soft hands glide over the scarred skin there. it is the first time he doesn't flinch.

"you--you!"

"say it."

"b-belong to you..."

the moonlight is blue when he makes you come. his lips wrap around your clit and suckle soft, and when he knows you're coming, he opens his mouth, hinging a strong jaw so he can swallow what drips from you and take in mouthfuls of it. there is a glare over you, a blue light that shines over your sweaty, shivering body, and ghost nearly bites.

as if the blue eyes he can't keep out of his head, the blue eyes that follow him everywhere he goes, are mocking him for taking the thing he knows he shouldn't have. he's telling him to leave you. that there's still time to let you go. that what he has in his hands, what he has at his mercy, is too soft and too pretty and too gentle to be touched by what he will bring to her doorstep.

you sit up on your elbows, half-lidded, face wet with your tears. ghost almost believes the blue that washes over you, but then his eyes meet yours, and it is over. you're smiling.

this is acceptance. because you know what he is. you know what he does. the gun on him is real. the black in his eyes isn't a trick of the light. the poison spreading in his veins isn't just a sickness, it is a cancer, and this will kill him, and it is contagious.

you cup his face, bringing him up, letting him crowd the space between your legs as he leans over you.

he would care. he wants to care. and when he kisses you, sealing your fate, he remembers, suddenly. the blue moonlight is gone.

and this isn't real.

[stellayuta]

Love on The Grid - Formula 1 AU! Yuta Okkotsu - Pt 1.

synopsis: One-night stands were nothing but a necessary painkiller for your inability to cross paths with true love. Your most recent find at a Vegas Club was no different. He was boring, obedient, SLOW! You leave him high and hanging hoping you'd never see him again until you find yourself gawking at a supersized billboard of him on a Vegas highway with the title 'LEGEND RETURNS TO VEGAS'.

genre: smut

content: 18+ only. Formula one driver! Yuta x f! reader, nasty intercourse and everything it includes, swearing, unprotected sex, use of alcohol. and a lot, lot, lot of s*xy stuff(like it's everything, a long list, so not gonna write it), reader is downright filthy ngl

word count: 2.8k

a/n: Ah this is my dream come true and this is totally to feed into my fantasies Dx

WARNING: always use protection!

"A bit to the right." you gasp, biting your lips but unable to hold on for long enough to make way for an uncontrollable moan.

"Ah, fuck! How are you so good at this! I thought you were a virgin?" You gasp, coming on his face with a squeal and taking some minutes to put your dazzled mind back into order. You sit up and clear your throat while the man appears from under the blanket and your thighs, face slick and shining with fluid. You gulp at the sight.

"What made you think I was a virgin?" He asks, smiling at you kindly, as if he didn't just devour your pussy.

"I don't know... really." You say, running a hand through your tousled hair, picturing how you two first met. It was a rave night at one of Las Vegas' upscale clubs. You and two of your friends happened to be bar hopping and ended up there at the recommendation of a previous bar's bartender. This club happened to be hosting a major celebration for an event that took place in Vegas that night and it was filled with howling men and skimpily dressed women, dancing to the heavy bass and vibing through the strobe-rainbow lasers. This was exactly your type of place.

"Tonight's your night Y/N." One of your friends cheered while the other made a tiger claw impression at you. "Go get em' tiger!"

You let your girls handle the drink orders and in a half-high state, wandered through the crowd, trying to look for men to chat up. That's where you saw this man, tucked away into a comfortable corner, with what looked like a nice orangey cocktail in hand. He was surrounded by a few men chatting with some very eager women, but he didn't partake in the conversation. That man was going to be your lay today, you had decided.

You cut through the dazed crowd and approach their group with your martini in hand.

"Hi there, got room for one more?" you say charmingly, the other men smiling encouragingly at you and the women smiling apprehensively. The men are clearly better looking, taller, with posher clothing than the wallflower hiding behind them, but the women can have these men.

"Oh, hey you!" you call out to the man, and he looks at his peers before making eye contact with you.

"Yeah, you." you pout at him. "Come out, I need a partner, I love this music." you reach for his hand, and he takes it hesitantly. You see the girls relax a bit as you seem to have chosen the worst pick of the group instead of the shiny men but you're happy to excuse yourself from their company and take your new arm candy to the dance floor.

"You frequent this place?" you ask the man, in order to break some ice. You have no interest in knowing his name.

"Well, I'm just visiting." He replies shortly, training his gaze to be glued to the dance floor. So, it'll be a challenge.

"Want some of this?" you ask, offering your drink.

"Nah, I'm on a cut, sorry." he replies. You give him a sharp smile trying to mask your immense irritation.

"Why the fuck are you in a club then?" you ask, discarding your martini on one of the drink tables and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, staring into his eyes. You catch a glimpse of his drink it may as well be orange juice for all you know now.

"Well, I -"

"Actually, never mind, don't answer that. Do you have a girlfriend?" you get to the point now. Because if he does, you're going to back off.

"Um, sorry, I don't." He says, confused. He stands absolutely still as everyone around him including you continue to groove to the music.

"Well, if you don't like drinking or dancing..." you smirk at him. "Want to do something more fun?"

You were almost certain this lad would say no but to your immense positive astonishment he agrees, cupping your waist and dragging you out of the club. The rest was history.

*****

"Anyway," you say, eyeing the rising sun out of the window blinds of this random hotel room of a random hotel he picked out. It had been a long night and the two of you had been going at it like rabbits. You started near the doorway with him pounding into you from behind. After you came once, you made him pull out and got down on your knees, sucking him off like a thirsty wreck. Then you had a round in the bathtub of the suite with you on top of him. He wasn't limp yet, so you got on top of him on the toilet again and bounced your way till his climax.

He still wasn't done because you ended up on the bed and he decided it would be a good idea to eat you out. You're just glad none of you were drunk out of your minds and everything happened consensually. He had an amazing dick, perfect girth and just long enough with a wicked curve, it's a pity you'd have to let it go today. Yet, you can't help but eye it hopelessly as it hung limp in front of you, almost begging you to caress it again.

"Aww you little-" You coo at his dick, reaching out in front of you to take it in your hands. You feel its weight and its fleshy texture and relish it. "I just can't leave it alone." you tell his soft length as he smiles at you.

That was one good thing about this guy. He didn't say awkward things. He was to the point, very kind in his after care, naughty but not excessively and oh my god are his groans out of this world. He is a looker too. I couldn't tell in the horrendous lighting of the club but now with steady lighting and even in the majestic rays of the rising sun, this man looks hot as hell.

You slump down to take his warm cock into your mouth gratefully and start sucking on it, feeling the length gradually increase and harden inside your mouth.

"Mmm.." you hum and grab a hold of his ball sack and fondle them, not wanting them to feel left out from the action.

You pay special attention to the underside of his cock as he grabs a hold of your hair with his shivering hands and makes you sink down on his length till it hits the back of your throat.

yummy.

You let his cock feel the merciless squeeze of your throat cavity as you go cross eyed from the sensation of being used like this. You moan and hum some more to add to his pleasure and grab a hold of his thighs with force. You look up at him with teary eyes to give him the green signal to let go and with a gasp, he looks up.

You are able to appreciate how thick and veiny his neck is as his seed paints your inner throat white, shooting warm liquid down your throat. He keeps thrusting and doesn't stop until his balls are dried out. You keep his limpening dick in your mouth for a while longer, collecting some of the cum in your mouth, intending to play with it for a bit when he pulls out.

"God. Just wow." He says after leaving your mouth as he watches you blow bubbles with his cum and let it drip down your lips only to scoop it with your fingers and force it back into your mouth.

"Shit. You'll make me hard again."

You blow a big bubble from his cum and wait for it to pop before speaking.

"Why, you're turned on again?" you ask, with half lidded eyes.

"Can you tell me your name?" He asks hopefully. Does he want this to be something? does he want more of you?

Well, he ain't getting any.

"Mouth's full." You reply teasingly, dodging his question and grinning with your teeth covered in his cum.

Your conversation is suddenly interrupted though by a long beeping noise coming out of your digital watch and you check the time.

6:15AM.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!

The man sees your mouth form a big O as you stare bleary eyed at your watch, the cumming almost dripping out of your mouth. At this point he felt it was ridiculous you hadn't swallowed yet, nasty.

But swallow you did, and very quickly. You moved with such pace that it was a blur in front of him... and he had seen many fast things in his life.

"I-I'm sorry." you say, pulling your pants on and buttoning up your shirt. You opt to leave your bra and panties; he can have them for all his good work.

"I gotta go!" you say.

"Hey wait! At least tell me your name... or your number, anything!" He pleads. You make the mistake of turning back to look at him. Blushed, with sleepy eyes and puffy lips, locks of dark hair falling beautifully on his delicate face. He looked so vulnerable and needy that you almost feel bad, but your boundaries were clear from the start.

This vegas trip was your medicine to heal from a broken heart. You weren't going to leech on to someone emotionally again. Never!

"Looks like our time here ends..." you say, trying to sound as sorry as possible.

"I don't know if I'll ever meet you again baby boy, but hey! you made me cum. That's brownie points!" you smile at him encouragingly before fleeing from the hotel room with your phone, wallet, and no underwear.

You take quick steps in your kitten heals and head for the receptionist's desk, hoping and praying that here is no white goo on your teeth. First, you locate where this damn hotel is and next, you ask for a pharmacy which luckily, they happen to have.

You book your cab as your Plan B and water bottle gets billed. You check your clock again. 6:23AM.

Ahhhh!!!

You urge the cab drive to max out on his speed and he tries his level best to achieve super-car levels of pace while you down your plan-b. You make it to the hotel you and your friends were staying in just in time and only get 30 seconds to yourself to wash your wrecked face before you have to hop on to your work meeting on your laptop.

"Hey guys, how's it going? Everyone ready for today's standup?"

As a Principle Software Developer at a Megacorp, it's hard to take days off for Las Vegas on demand, at a short notice. Work from home was the only negotiation.

You grind for the rest of the morning and a large part of the afternoon as your friends and their boyfriends wake up from their sleep at their own pace, ask you about where you've been and grab some lunch for all of you. They have a lot of questions to ask but you're willing to answer absolutely none.

Once you're finally done with the day's work, the sun is beginning to set, and you take a minute to meditate and finally retire to the shower. This is the first time since yesterday morning that you truly have a chance to clean yourself thoroughly and to think clearly.

What were you thinking?

The reality of the situation drones in on you as the unforgiving cold droplets assault your skin. You still feel his dick on your tongue, his cum clumped in your throat, his veiny neck, his firm arms on your hips, his legs intertwined with yours.

God, what did you do?

This is... this is all Megumi's fault. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't be this broken today.

You let a few tears slip out in the gracious masking of the shower.

When you finally emerge fresh, your friends are waiting for you.

"We're going out!" your friend, Momo, exclaims.

"What? Where?" you ask. There were no plans for today.

"Well Noritoshi here wants to see one his fancy car races. Apparently, they do that in Vegas. There's a track and everything." your friend explains as her boyfriend, Noritoshi nods in excitement.

"It's Formula One, Momo! I have been dying to see one race live, at the circuit." He mumbles, more to himself than to us. "Initially, I only booked the tickets for Momo and me but I was able to get three free ones!"

"You guys can come along if you want to." Momo tells me and my other friend, Miwa and her boyfriend, Kokichi.

We all look at each other and before I can protest, they say yes on my behalf too.

Motorsports huh. I've heard of it yes. Though I appreciate a good quality car, I have never been a fan of racing as a sport. Isn't it a rich people exclusive anyway? I mentally scoff at the thought of my cheering on from the stands at a circuit and definitely catch Miwa narrowing her eyes at my expression.

"Dress up well. The crowds are all bigshots." Kokichi tells Miwa. "Not that you don't always look good, babe."

"Oh stop you!" Miwa blushes, putting her cheek on Kokichi's shoulder.

Ugh couples.

All of us get dressed to the best of our abilities with Noritoshi absolutely decking himself out in his formula one merch. He is wearing a teal accented and black leather bomber jacket with the words "Mercedes" stamped on it. He also carries a cute little plushie of what I assume is a current driver. The plushie looks soft and limp just like...

I widen my eyes in lieu of publicly slapping myself. Fucking. Get over it. Y/N!

Kokichi eyes the plushie with disgust.

"Bruh come on. Him, really?"

Noritoshi isn't having it though. "He's one of the greats. If you don't believe it, you're in denial. Thank you very much."

"He's not as great as my man Geto Suguru. The beast in his Red Bull!"

"Suguru, that ass? He's a cheat and you know it-" Noritoshi wants to continue but Momo stops him.

"We're getting late! Let's get going." The five of us leave the hobby and hop into our convertible (Kokichi won't let us rent anything else).

Kokichi drives, with Miwa in the shotgun handling the music. Momo, the shortest sits in the middle with Noritoshi to the right, making sure the tickets and everything else is in place. I am in the left, zoning out, happy to look at the twinkling lights of evening Vegas. This city is like an anti-depressant. Fast acting and temporary.

"Hey, Y/N." Momo suddenly pulls on my arm.

"Mhm?" I ask, keeping my eyes shut.

"How was it last night? With that guy you went off with?" She asks, curious.

"Don't wanna talk about it." I admit. Because I will then never stop thinking about his stupid dick.

"You will have to tell me some day!" She yells in a hushed voice.

"Not that I'll ever see him again, Momo." I remind her.

"You didn't even get his number?" She prods.

"Nah."

"Okay what's his name?"

"...."

"You can't be seriously, Y/N!"

I raise my hand to shut her up for a bit. I don't want to have this conversation after a long night of fucking and a long day of work.

Miwa must be forgetting why I came on the trip because she starts vibing to some slow, romantic song, holding Kokichi's hand as I try to play deaf. I place my head on my folded hands atop the window, gazing out at the passing light poles on the highway, in front of a pinky-purple sky. The sunset today is ethereal.

I almost begin to hear Megumi's voice in my head when Noritoshi suddenly laughs out, holding his plushie in the sky.

"Kokichi, would you look at that!" He says sarcastically pointing in a direction which makes us all turn our heads.

I follow his line of sight and spot a huge billboard approach us. It is so massive that I can clearly see what's on it from like half a mile away. It is made to stand out with blue and teal led lights framing it.

What catches my eye isn't the billboard decoration though. It's what's on it.

I nearly let out a choking sound but catch myself just in time.

On the billboard, larger than life is the human version of Noritoshi's plushie, clad in black and teal with a shining helmet in hand and standing proudly in front of his wicked Mercedes accompanied by the tagline which Noritoshi chants now.

"The Legend of Vegas returns to conquer for the Third Time! KING Yuta Okkotsu!"

Continued here in Part 2

Your likes, comments and reblogs really encourage me to write more! So do interact with this post and let me know your thoughts 🧡

[marleyybluu]

Thinkin’ Bout You

Spooky Diaz x fem!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Content warning: 18+, gets a little hot at the end, overall fluff and mush, everyone’s in love and high, reader smokes weed, reader described to have thick thighs (of course tf), pretty sure I'm missing some sorry

A/N: I took a break from my break to post this lol I was gonna leave this as a stand-alone(it can still be read as such) but honestly? it’s giving two and counting lore… so I’ll put it as a part of that series.

(not mine, got it off pinterest but awooogaa!)

Friday. What a glorious day to be off work. You slept in, hell you'd say you deserved putting up all those work hours at the hospital, and after finally crawling out of bed you rolled a small joint for the morning, and smoked it on the balcony outside your bedroom. The neighbourhood was quiet, the air was crisp and a bit cold but it's nothing one of Spooky's sweaters couldn't fix. You wrap your arms around you, the sweater is warm and it smelt like his cologne, you close your eyes and smile at just the mere thought of him. You always think about him it was crazy how one man consumed your entire being but you were so glad it was him.

You wished he was home, wished he was here to smoke with you but he got called into work earlier than usual, you didn't even get a goodbye kiss which you were missing right now, the vacancy of those lips— soft as a cloud and always on top of yours so delicately— depending on the context of course.

Without him here the day seemed to pass on slower, you checked the time what seemed like every ten minutes which also didn't help. To distract yourself you clean and cook, call your mom until she is ready to, quote, "Go and do her own thing." And hung up on you.

You lay upside down on the couch, feet crossed as they hang over the back of the couch and your head hangs off the seat cushions, Living Single reruns consumed your screen. You were well distracted until you heard a car door slam and various keys jingling together, you sat up and gripped the back of the couch for dear life.

The lock turns. The door opens. And there he is. You scream with excitement. "Hi, babyyyyy."

He chuckles, not even ten seconds inside and you already had him smiling. "Hola mi corazón."

You roll off the sofa and run over to your man, leaping and wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He squeezes you so tightly you swear he'd crack a few bones but in the name of love, you wouldn't care. You pepper his face with kisses before you finally land on his lips and you mould into him, his hands firmly grasping your ass that barely fits in your shorts.

He smiles in the middle of your kiss and it's an instant chain reaction. "Missed me that much?"

"You have no idea."

He gives you another small kiss before he puts you down and you fight the urge to pout and demand to be picked back up, you just want to live in his skin 24/7, but you let him catch his breath. Let him put away his things, grab a Corona while you ogle him and the way his enormous arms flexed when he twisted the cap off and the foaming bubbles sliding their way to the top... almost spilling over... but then he saves it with tongue. You lick your bottom lip and zoom in on the involuntarily sexual act, oh, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed with every sip... fuck.

"Bebita," He calls. You slowly nod, still in your love-stricken daze. "You're droolin' a little bit ma."

You rub your chin and frown at him, there is no drool. He winks at you and you turn your face to the side to avoid any more butterflies in your stomach. "You smoke already?"

You nod. "Wanna smoke again or you good?" He sat his blunt, which magically appeared from his jeans, between his lips and nodded to the back door. "Nah, I'll smoke with you."

"Good, vamos."

••••• Your head lays in his lap, his hand cupped your cheek and his thumb caressed your skin. After you two smoked, you ate and had a blissfully shared shower, now you were sprawled out on the sofa still high as fuck watching Bridget Jones's Diary, he remembered you uttered something about wanting to watch a rom-com for once. You were in the mood to watch a love story, "or something."

But you were hardly paying attention to the screen, so lost in your own world of love, you pinch his chin aiming his at an angle so he'd look down at you. Make eye contact.

"Do you think about me?" A question asked so innocently. "Course I do, baby."

You run your finger down the column of his neck, over the lump of his Adam's apple. "What do you think about?"

He pauses the movie and focuses on you. "What's this about?"

"Nothing."

"You pregnant?"

You hit him. "Spooky! No!" He was obsessed with the idea of a baby. "Just answer my question."

He sighs, nostrils flair, he hated telling his deepest feelings but, "I think about you... and me, and what our life could be like. We could get married, could have a couple of kids. I always thought about gettin' like a summer house or something. Hit it every summer with them."

You smiled. "You think about all that?"

"Fuck yeah. I see us dropping them off on their tío, he watches them... we still get to have some us time, dates, trips...whatever you want."

You swear he makes you fall in love with him all over again at least once a week. "You think I haven't pictured the wedding? I know what I'll say in my vows already."

"Liar," You teased.

"Mi amor, the day I saw you-"

You quickly cover his mouth it'd be like spoiling a movie you hadn't seen yet. He licked your palm but you were quick to wipe it on his face. "Puta." He muttered. "Bastardo." You retaliated. "So how many kids do we have?" You sit up and adjust yourself so that you are now sitting with your back against the support of the couch and drape your legs over his thighs, the cold metal of his rings hits your hot skin when his hand contacts your leg. "Five."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" You exclaim. "I've seen childbirth live and I think we can have one and a dog." He rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever."

He leans over to kiss your forehead. "You think about me?"

"Once in a while." You joke, his jaw drops. "Once in a while!? That's how you feel? Ay, cariño, you're breaking mi corazón."

You place your hand over his and offer him a side smile before you kiss his cheek. "The way I jumped on you when you came home isn't proof enough."

He pulls you on top of him, your legs now sitting on each side of him with his hands gleefully squeezing every pound of flesh that makes up your thunder thighs that spread every time you sit and it makes him call them pancakes sometimes. "I might need a refresher."

"Oh, getting short-term memory already, Diaz?" You hum pressing your lips to his. "Just a little bit." He answers. Your hands fumble with the bottom of his shirt, he raises his arms and you break the kiss for just a second before you're back with tongues in each others throats and you're making out as if you're life depended on it, as if he's being shipped off to war and you don't know if he's coming back. Now it was your turn to pull back in need of some air. His smile is shaky, almost like a shy expression.

"Still kinda hazy."

You rid yourself of your top, with nothing under it.

"Oh don't worry," You lean in. "I'm about to make it real clear."

Not tagging anyone in this, I'm just testing something. if you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one🤙🏾

[celaenaeiln]

C: Hi there! Even if I've been reading dick Grayson(and in turn batfamily) fics for a few weeks now, I've never actually watched/read DC stuff because even if I liked superheroes, I'm not invested enough to read the actual comics. The most I watched was the Teen Titans 2003 cartoon(which I love). I was brought into interest cause I was brought in through crossovers of other fandoms (which may be hated by some/many😅)

To give myself context, I tried to read around for Robin, and imagine my surprise there's more than one? Which, okay mantle thing I guess. But in the end, Dick Grayson caught my attention(not rlly for his looks and design, but more of his heroism and entire personality and affect in the DC world). Which leads to looking at other tumblrs and I love reading yours and when you answer the asks cause it's so much easier for me to understand the kind of person Dick is and how he interacts with the world.

Sorry for this long context, but I just want maybe your opinion, what if your opinion in the combination of how Dick Grayson should be written for him to Thrive

- Should he stay in Gotham, being in with the batfamily more? Soloing in Bludhaven? Staying with the titans? Or others?

- what about his romantic relationships? Who should be is one true one(based on canon gfs), or maybe stay single? (Just gonna be biased, but I've only knew about dickbabs and dickkory (but I heard he has other girlfriends and I've remember reading he was almost married...a few times??) but dickkory had always been for me)

- What about mentally wise? (Of course, I do think Dick needs a long vacation because of all the trauma that he has to go through), but even if I like the idea of Dick being admired for his looks because he deserves it, but I do rmbr posts that he is uncomfy with this(sexualisation, Def only staying true to the person he loves (then there's the whole...Tarantula and more thing)

Tbf, I do think is a little bit of all is what makes Dick, Dick. Haha

Sorry for the long ask, feel free to not answer because i just needed to get this out😅. I know it's actually bad I'm reading fics without canon knowledge for personality, but your posts makes me understand him more that I understand what's real and what's fanon in fics (that makes me..ugh.. but I read anyway for plot cause i don't know better)

But thank you anyway for reading this and I love your content!

(last one for this ask I swear: I've been seeing stuff where Robin name is actually Dick's mom calling Dick that. Then it's passed down as a mantle starting from Jason without Dick consenting. I tried to read at wiki, maybe I missed out but I can't find anything. Is it true? Does the other bats (except Bruce and Alfred?) know the actual meaning? Because as much as I love Dami, the whole bloodson, birthright to take the mantle of Robin beside Batman give me ugh feelings if it's true) :C

First of all, thank you so much!! I'm so happy to hear you like my stuff <333!!

I think it's fine that you started in the fandom since I sort of started out that way too lol. I had only watched Teen Titans Animated show and Young Justice before I got into fanfics and my first comic I ever read was actually Teen Titans (2011) which was Tim's run. It's been a journey.

Dick's personality was also what captivated me so here I am!

"Should he stay in Gotham, being in with the batfamily more? Soloing in Bludhaven? Staying with the titans? Or others?"

That's a really good question and a complex one. Ironically, for being such a people person, Dick seems to be doing best when he's by himself. When he's soloing, he has a sense of freedom and independence that he's been craving for a long time. The whole reason he left Bruce was because he felt like Bruce was suddenly treating him like a kid, like someone to look after, when he had been treating Dick like a partner the whole time. When Dick feels like his independence is being stepped on, it unsettles him. This is another reason why the Tom Taylor run and Dick's relationship pisses me off but that's for another time. As much as he likes Gotham, he loves Bludhaven. He thinks it's a dirty, crime-filled city, sure, but he loves it there.

He's a little crazy like that.

He doesn't have the same attachment to Gotham that Bruce does. Instead he feels that for Bludhaven.

The only reason I'm saying Dick is better off staying alone than with the Titans is because of his leadership mentality. There's a comic that I forgot the name of but Dick teams up with members of the Justice League and they trapeze through a jungle under the orders of this corrupt military general. He teams up with Arthur and automatically starts commanding people to which Aquaman tells him off, saying this isn't the Titans. Dick is genuinely sorry and backs off. For a minute. But immediately goes right back into command mode but Arthur lets it go, realizing that Dick's not conscious of it and that his behaviour is automatic. "Too many leaders" he calls the situation in his head. For Dick, the Titans have become a responsibility now. He loves them like crazy but they look up at him automatically for directions and order and he's gotten so used to leading them that it's his go to mode.

He just likes doing stuff without someone hovering over his shoulder or having to take care of others.

"what about his romantic relationships? Who should be is one true one(based on canon gfs), or maybe stay single? (Just gonna be biased, but I've only knew about dickbabs and dickkory (but I heard he has other girlfriends and I've remember reading he was almost married…a few times??) but dickkory had always been for me)"

Yeah, I've actually loved almost all of his romantic relationships. I hate Dickbabs but every other one has been fantastic. Kori was great for him.

Action Comics (1938) Issue #618

Dick says it again here. He used to envy Roy's freedom. He's also said in another comic that he fell in love with Kori for her freedom.

Secret Origins (1986) Issue #13

You're right, he has gotten almost married a few times

The first time was with Kori

The New Titans (1988) Issue #100

But then

The New Titans (1988) Issue #100

their pastor gets vaporised and body-controlled Raven feeds the soul of one of Trigon's children into Kori and she goes crazy but she recovers but it's a whole ordeal. In the end they don't get a chance to complete their marriage. They were spectacular together though. The only reason their wedding didn't go through is because the Batfam writers wanted Dick back so they took him from the Titans' writers and they needed a big dramatic scene to cut him off from the Titans. Another reason why Barbara was deaged and created as a love interest- to gatekeep him in the family.

He's also gotten married to Barbara before the retcon though.

Batman Family Issue #11

But here they were forced to by Maze and they went along with it and tricked him. At the end though, they just grab a bite to eat.

Ngl I actually would've supported this marriage. I really love this Barbara. Yes the age difference is a bit much but whatever, I still like them.

Dick and Barbara have gotten married in an alternate timeline.

Convergence: Nightwing/Oracle Issue #2

yeah, definitely didn't like this one.

Dick's also gotten fake married to a woman because Batman and Dick thought she was killing her husbands after marrying them so Dick married her to see if it was true.

Nightwing (1996) Annual #1

I liked her. She wasn't the killer and Dick did a fantastic job raising her son but even though she loved him, he didn't love her and they divorced amicably. I wish I could see more of her and her son though.

To be completely honest, my favorites for Dick are Kori and Bea.

Bea was a fantastic partner. She was understanding, loving, caring, and responsible. She was there when he was Ric Grayson and just loved him for who he was.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #53

If Kori's truly out of the picture, then Dick really should've settled down with her.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #57

She and Kori, they don't tell Dick what to do or who to be. They let him be free which is why I loved them an extraordinary amount. I'm a sucker for soft moments and Bea and Dick are couple goals.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #62

They give him the freedom he craves.

"What about mentally wise? (Of course, I do think Dick needs a long vacation because of all the trauma that he has to go through), but even if I like the idea of Dick being admired for his looks because he deserves it, but I do rmbr posts that he is uncomfy with this(sexualisation, Def only staying true to the person he loves (then there's the whole...Tarantula and more thing)"

I think Dick does need a break. His life has been a series of unfortunate events but despite all that, I think he loves it that way. Dick loves the thrill of adventure. It's the heart of who he is and why he became robin. The excitement he gets when fighting or doing crazy stunts - he loves all of it and that is his coping mechanism. I guess in order for him to thrive, Bruce needs to stop dumping all his trauma and stop expecting him to be there for him at all times of the day. Dick keeps getting dragged back to Gotham to take care of Bruce and his problems and he would go in a heartbeat but he's much happier wacking his own goons in Bludhaven. But since Bruce is so codependent on Dick, this pattern's not gonna stop anytime soon.

Truth be told I also like Dick being admired for his looks. I don't like him being called out by it though. First of all why would you comment "hot booty" to someone? It's degrading and humiliating even if you think it's a compliment. Some things are better left untold. But regardless of what people think, Dick will always be pretty and everyone in the DC universe knows this. Heroes, civilians, villains - they're all attracted to him on some level because he's so beautiful. And honestly? I'm all for it! Because that boy is the prettiest human in existence and he deserves that recognition. Just not vocally or physically.

The best thing is that Dick's beauty has no bearing on his mentality toward people. This man will choose one person and stick with them forever. He values intimacy and trust and love in his relationships which is why he's so attached to each one. This plays a massive role in his relationship with Kori. He would never cheat. Actually in all the future comics, after his spouse passes away or leaves, he never remarries. The only one exception was Batman Beyond (2016). The only one and he remarries Barbara after his wife passes away. Aside from that he remains a single parent. That's how dedicated he is.

"I've been seeing stuff where Robin name is actually Dick's mom calling Dick that. Then it's passed down as a mantle starting from Jason without Dick consenting. I tried to read at wiki, maybe I missed out but I can't find anything. Is it true? Does the other bats (except Bruce and Alfred?) know the actual meaning? Because as much as I love Dami, the whole bloodson, birthright to take the mantle of Robin beside Batman give me ugh feelings if it's true)"

Yup Dick's mother called Dick Robin.

Nightwing (2011) Issue #0

Robin (1993) Annual #4

Here's a couple but there are more instances of his mom calling him Robin.

Dick had no idea Bruce passed on the Robin costume. He finds out through the newspaper because Bruce is pissed at Dick. Like he's so mad that when he told Dick to leave, Dick actually left.

You know how there's a saying about not being able to take back words of anger? Bruce is feeling that heavily. He already had suspicions that Dick wanted to leave but before Dick could tell him, he fired him so he wouldn't have to hear those words. But Bruce is super mad that Dick left anyway. So what does he do? He makes the first boy he sees Robin.

And Jason finds out Dick was Robin when he confronts Bruce why Nightwing knows Bruce's identity. And that gets Bruce more mad because he's now feeling guilty which is when Dick comes to confront Bruce.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

But instead of meeting anger for anger, Dick expresses his hurt. About how they were partners and then talks about his life after leaving Bruce.

And Bruce loves Dick. His best friend, son, brother, and partner for nearly 11 years. They raised each other and despite his anger, he smiles in pride and love.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

Look at his smile!! He's so proud of his son.

And that's when Dick stops pulling his punches.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

Bruce looks so wrecked. The guilt and sorrow is tantamount to his pain.

Then Dick asks Bruce why he choose someone new.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

So Bruce tells him. But Dick and Bruce's relationship go way deeper than just friends or family. They know each other. They revolve around each other so Dick calls him out.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

And out comes the truth

Batman (1940) Issue #416

But Dick has always been the bigger man and instead of letting Jason become some sort of spite move, he turns Robin into a legacy.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

He passes it down like it was meant to be passed down. Because let's be honest here. The Robin name and costume is Dick's. If he wanted to, he could've taken it back, Bruce be damned. And that was one of Jason's fears.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

But despite Bruce's words to Jason

Batman (1940) Issue #416

He's not sure himself.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

But it's only with Dick's approval that he becomes Robin which is what Bruce is thanking at the end.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

And this has been a sort of tradition.

Dick approved of Jason being Robin, he endorsed Tim, and he made Damian Robin. The only exception being Stephanie. This is why Dick feels a heavy sense of responsibility over the robin predicament. He created the tradition. He approved, supported, and mentored every robin that walked in his colors and name. That's why he feels the burden of it.

I don't think any of the other robins know the meaning behind the name. Maybe they do. But ironically, the one who wasn't robin is the one who knows the meaning of it.

Duke.

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️ Ranking Richonne

#25: A Few More Days (S7E12)

Say Yes is just rich with Richonne goodness at every turn, beginning early with the opening moments of the ep as well as in their final moments in the ep, which are tied here on my list. Both scenes highlight how much Rick and Michonne value the days they have with each other. And to kick off this love letter episode, I love that we get a moment of Rick and Michonne proving yet again that them + vehicles = gold...

So after a perfect and steamy montage establishing they’ve been having the time of their lives on this run and a sweet conversation about why they’re smiling, we see them in the van eating saviors' pretzels. And I’ve always loved the inclusion of pretzels in this scene for the symbolism in contrast to Dwight and Sherry. It’s a subtle way to indicate that Rick and Michonne are the couple who are going to stay together through thick and thin. 

I like Michonne saying they have "good taste in pretzels" like it’s the singular good quality about the Saviors lol. And then I love Rick saying "and batteries" as one of the first ways slick Rick will indicate he wants to stay out longer. And I get his logic - with the walkie working they can stay aware of what’s going on back home while still enjoying this wonderful honeymoon. I was fully on board with Rick’s thinking lol.

Watching it back, I love the ever-so-subtle groan Rick gives when Michonne says they’re gonna need to get back. He is not ready to leave this blissful state he’s in with her and I’m beyond here for it.

Also, I swear if watching all these Richonne scenes back was a try-not-to-smile challenge I would lose horrendously. I can’t not smile. It’s just all so precious every time they’re together, and this is genuinely me during the entirety of their every scene lol...

And then I just adore the way Michonne notices Rick’s quiet reaction and says his name. She knows her husband, y’all. She knows his silence means he doesn’t want to go home yet.

Rick says “a day and a half more, today and tomorrow.” And truly so much of what I love about this scene and Say Yes in general is that it’s one of the very rare moments where Rick gets to voice something he really wants personally. This isn’t about wanting to keep finding guns. He’s having the time of his life with the love of his life, and he wants to enjoy this as long as he can. 

Michonne says they can come back again because, trust, she wants this alone time with Rick too, she just wants to eliminate the Negan threat so their next trip doesn’t have that cloud over it.

I love the way Rick says “just a little more” and looks over at her with his subtle eyebrow raised. He’s the most refreshed he’s looked all season and so happy and in love, and it’s great to see. 

Michonne reassuringly says, “We’re okay. We don’t have to find them right now,” and I like how this is where Rick just outright confirms that extending this run is not about finding guns. It’s about what he will later reveal to be what he wants most - “the two of us” - cuz then he lightheartedly responds “yeah I know” lol.

(Side note: I'm just thinking about how before this love letter 7.12 ep there was the iconic 3.12 Clear ep. And 3.12 also began with the two in the car - however back then Michonne was driving in silence and Rick was thinking they’ll part ways after the Governor fight. How far we’ve come with them that now in 7.12 Rick and Michonne are in this car fully in love on a honeymoon run and wanting all the time in the world with each other. 🥰🙌🏾)

Rick says, “Just a little more okay?” while just eating some pretzels all content. And the delivery of the 'okay?' at the end is so freaking cute.  😋 Andy is so good at playing all shades of Rick, especially a Rick in love. 

And then there’s this little silent moment where Rick looks down and then looks over at her with a look that says he knows Michonne wants this time too and that they want to be out here for more than just business reasons.

I love that Rick is always so good at making sure he gives the two of them time together to just put plans and agendas aside and enjoy being with each other. This is different than s1 Rick who was always on the go. He knows how valuable what he has with Michonne is and he cherishes every moment he has with her. Man of the year every year, ijs.

And then Danai “Always Perfectly Delivers The Line, Even If It's Just One Word” Gurira says "okay" in a way that just communicates so much. The way Michonne looks at him with so much care in this moment before softly saying okay. She knows that while Rick is seeming casual rn, this is also something he really wants and even needs more than he’s letting on, which he’ll reveal when he shares how much has been weighing on him later in the ep. And I think in this moment she knows she really needs this time with the love of her life too. 

Also it’s sweet how all Rick had to say was just “a little more, okay?” and Michonne was in full agreement. They both can so effortlessly get the other on board with them. 😋 So she says this heartfelt okay and then Rick is just in his glowy happy era responding with such a pleased “okay” while looking at her so clearly in love.

The way they look at each other and smile with a little laugh upon agreeing to keep this honeymoon going is just perfection. 😍 I love that they both know they are going to stay out here not just as leaders and fighters but as lovers too, as they happily agree to bask in their Richonne bubble a bit longer.

This joy and alone time is what they deserve, and I love how this scene sets the tone for the rest of their honeymoon ep. It let you know that Rick and Michonne's love and desire for each other was going to be central, and I'm forever here for it.

And then I gotta attach another “few more days” moment at the end of the ep to this ranking because it really does connect. 👌🏽

It’s at the end of Say Yes when Michonne approaches Rick after his irritating encounter with Jadis. Rick and Michonne both really do look so visibly rejuvenated from their honeymoon run. I was looking at both of them in this scene like...

And I love that seeing her man is upset, Michonne knows just how to uplift him.

The scene starts with Rick clearly frustrated after Jadis changed the deal and tried to demand the cat sculpture back. When that trash lady told Rick she wanted the cat back I was like...

Because see Rick is in the business of gifting Michonne, so Jadis and the junkyard had another thing coming if they thought he was giving his wife's cat sculpture back lol. He even retools the deal to let Jadis know she tried it, and then he has this lone moment looking annoyed just before Michonne approaches. And just the way she looks at him when she slowly enters the scene is already so sweet. 🥹

I love how she says, "You get a few more days before what happens next." Which as we know from their previous heart-to-heart means before the fight. 

Let me tell you, this is a husband and wife. Like officially-married-after-that-7.12-proposal husband and wife. You just feel the spouse vibes radiating off them in this scene, and I’m here for it. 

I love that when Michonne lovingly says this, it’s her knowing how much a 'few more days' is something Rick really wanted/still wants and something she now deeply understands the value of too. And sis always be knowing the perfect thing to say cuz Rick's mood is instantly boosted as he turns to face her, elated at the idea of a few more days spent like how they just spent it. 😊

And part of what was so special about Rick wanting to extend their trip throughout this ep is that it was truly just the two of them on that honeymoon run - it wasn't like real-world honeymoons where you're at least around other hotel guests or beachgoers or whatever - but Rick was like, 'even when you’re the literal only person I’m around for days, I still want more of that.' #DirectQuoteFromHisMind 🥰

It’s cute how Rick perks up as he asks, “A few more days?” I love how Michonne can always improve his mood and capture his full attention. I also love how close they’re standing to each other in this scene and the lighting — you know we love a well-lit Richonne scene. It’s great. 👏🏽

And that Richonne bubble has a strong magnetic field because it seems they just can’t help but be as close as possible when talking to each other here. Truly, at this moment, they feel like it's just the two of them around - but nope, they out here giving big 😍-energy publicly on some strangers' turf. I love it. 🙌🏾

Michonne has such a beautiful glow when she calmly and confidently assures Rick, “that’s right, we’ll find more, we’ll figure it out soon…in a few more days.” 🗣 She's a wife. And scenes like this show that loud and clear.

Also, what Rick and Michonne mean to each other is always so gorgeously depicted, even in just a look. my goodness. #blessed.

As a moot beautifully stated, Rick drinks her in whenever she's in front of him, and he does so here as he nods and takes her hand. I love that she can so instantly improve his mood and how we just watched them spend all this alone time together all episode, only for them to end the ep excited about the prospect of more time together.

And then the scene ends with them walking away hand in hand because one thing Richonne always finna do is hold hands, and I'm here for it. 🤗

This was a beautiful way to open and close the Richonne love letter ep. And so these two connected moments - starting with Rick wanting a few more days and ending with the two of them also really grateful for a few more days - were wonderful and had to get some recognition on this list. 😌

[svltzmans]

Can you write a Fiona Gallagher x fem reader of any kind could be about anything

latch - f.g.

a/n: hi! i'm so excited i got a fiona request i'm obsessed with her 😭 i came up with this little idea while i was listening to the song latch by disclosure which i think fits fiona's vibe pretty well? anyway i hope you like this :) its short and unedited but yolo!!!

warnings: alcohol mention, suggestive content, seckshual tension bc of course 😗

the music is blasting so loud that y/n can feel each beat reverberating through her head.

chicago is new to her, having just moved from a small town with her best friend who had always wanted more adventure.

and, of course, adventure involves going out to clubs and bars.

sure, y/n enjoyed spending time with her best friend and being social. but admittedly loud clubs weren't exactly her scene.

regardless, she sits at one of the tables, her best friend beside her.

"come on, let's dance!"

before y/n can respond, her best friend has disappeared into the crowd.

keeping an eye on her, y/n doesn't follow, taking a sip of her drink and continuing to people-watch.

there are several waitresses walking with trays of drinks, delivering both fancy cocktails and bottles of cheap beer to awaiting customers.

they pass her by, seeing that she has a mostly full drink in front of her.

that is, until, a brunette with dark eyeshadow approaches her, empty tray in hand.

"hey gorgeous, can i grab you something?"

y/n is almost speechless, completely in awe of the woman standing in front of her. she knew she would be able to explore her sexuality in chicago more than she did back at home, but she didn't expect to fall in love at first sight.

"i think i'm okay for now. i'm kinda babysitting this drink. thank you though."

the woman smiles, making y/n feel weak in the knees.

"just wave me down if you need another drink. my name is fiona, in case you need my attention."

and then she winks, and y/n swears she almost loses consciousness.

finally standing up to find her best friend, leaving her finished drink behind, y/n makes her way into the crowd.

she finds herself gently moving with the music, finally linking arms with her best friend to dance.

"i'm gonna go get us some more drinks," y/n proposes, watching her best friend continue dancing.

she simply nods, and y/n makes her way to the bar, only running into fiona refilling her tray.

"hey beautiful, whatcha doing up here? i would have brought you a drink."

"oh, i, uh..."

"don't get nervous, honey. i'm just playing around with you. what can i get for you?"

"oh, nothing for me. just a vodka soda for my friend, please."

"i got you, babe. but my shift ends in a few. wanna dance?"

y/n can't respond in any other way but nodding.

"here's a vodka soda for your friend. meet me on the dance floor in a few," fiona replies, gently touching y/n's shoulder.

"you're not gonna believe this. that hot waitress has been flirting with me," y/n looks at her best friend, still in disbelief that she had gotten so lucky.

"damn, y/n. you better bring her back to the apartment later," her best friend teases, tipsy from the night's events.

"she asked me to dance, i guess we'll see how that goes."

fiona starts walking toward y/n, trying to move through the crowd without distraction.

"i just realized i never got your name. i was just too distracted by how hot you are."

y/n is almost frozen in time hearing the woman call her hot.

"y/n. i'm still pretty new to the area but you are definitely the prettiest girl i've seen."

y/n and fiona quickly fall into stride together, moving to the music against each other. it's almost ethereal, the way the rest of the crowd fades away and they feel like the only two people in the room.

fiona comes behind y/n, resting her head on her shoulder so she can whisper in her ear.

"you're a pretty good dancer, y/n."

y/n moves her face almost too close to fiona's, their lips just barely missing each other.

"let's get out of here."

[atxxzist]

broken | c.s (08)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 7.7k

warning: i don't want to spoil the contents so pls go in with a guarded mind and stop reading immediately if anything makes you uncomfortable!!!

"lotte world! oh, and, we can finally visit cheonggyecheon!" mingi preaches excitedly from the other line, adding onto the ongoing list of never-ending things to do for the summer.

"yeah yeah, that sounds fun," you mumble, voice coming off disinterested because you've been circulating the small space of your room for the last five minutes looking for the only hair tie you have left.

you swear you had put it next to the nightstand.

"are you like not excited? we're gonna be free bitches for an entire summer!" his tone filled with disbelief, a scoff that accompanies it after.

"no, no. i am. just--ah!" you find the last survivor of the collection of hair ties on the floor just right next to your bed, picking it up to twirl it around your finger.

"are you literally having this conversation with me mid-orgasm?"

"pfft!" you blow, standing up on your toes to grab the comb on the bed before walking to the mirror on yuna's side of the room that has really come in handy. "i was looking for a hair tie to do my hair."

"oh, and what for? on this weekend after the semester ended and you have no work for the entire summer, huh?" his irritating and nosy voice vibrates the sheet of your bed where your phone is also at, you having to roll your eyes at the remark.

"so i can come up to your room and beat the living shit out of you for always sticking your nose in my business."

"ooohh!" he sings with exaggerated fear. "is this your way of saying you're gonna get laid tonight? a little end of the semester celebration? has the city finally changed you?"

"no," you answer, snapping your hair into a half ponytail before walking over to pick up your phone. "i'm gonna visit the cafe like a peasant. now before you make me late, create a google doc or something and i'll add to the list when i have something."

"fine. but we're doing it in comic sans, color-coded!"

you roll your eyes, muttering a "whatever" before cutting the line.

you catch yourself in yuna's mirror again after turning, and you honestly don't know why you're all this dressed up either. you've been to the place plenty of times before and you've definitely been there with yeosang as well.

the amount of coincidences still following you allowed for a run-in with him just the day before, having told him with eager lips about the exam score you got, later with an anticipated gaze about how this is going to work.

you suppose the cafe being the place of choice isn't a surprise.

he gets there before you, his hand that raises slightly when he sees you enter. it's a smaller table located in the center, and you begin making way to it, your sneakers gliding against the flooring.

"hey," you both exchange as you take the seat across him, a short lapse of silence after that is broken by him.

"want to order something?" he asks, eyes boring into yours.

"sure." you nod.

after picking your drinks and food of choice, yeosang offering to go up to the register, the silence reenters when he takes his seat. your gaze that tries to avoid his and his that tries to stir away from keeping them trained on you too long. he thinks you look nice.

in the half ponytail, white crop top tucked under a pink cardigan and sneakers with socks. he don't think he's ever seen in a skirt before, but it suits you. and if that's makeup you have on, he's not sure he's able to tell. you look about the same.

"so..." he starts again.

you shyly look up at him, clearing your throat before replying with the same aloofness of "so..." a quick second of nothing before you two burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation, your leg lightly brushing his under the table.

"sorry," he mumbles, a smile on his face.

"me too," you say, "just... still trying to get used to it."

still trying to get used to the new feeling when you're around him; one that's not so hostile but actually very welcoming and new--one you haven't gotten from anyone else but mingi and yunho.

he chuckles lightly and nod, the feeling being very much mutual after all.

"well, i'm glad you passed," he brings up, digging for anything to talk about and break the tension a little.

"yeah. it wasn't easy."

"but you did it. maybe you really do have it in you." his tone very lighthearted.

you brush it off with a scoff.

"not really. i just couldn't wait to be done with the damn semester so i'll never have to attend another session of that class."

he laughs a deep chuckle and you have to dismiss how smooth it sounds to ears; how comforting and familiar it's starting to become.

"geez, only first semester and you're already getting beat down? come on, you still have a semester and three more years."

"gosh, don't even remind me." you cross your arms and fall back onto the chair, yeosang releasing another laughter at the pure distaste in your voice at the topic.

"you don't look and sound like you enjoy the major very much. why not change it?"

something in you light up at that. change your major? you actually haven't thought of that, but the more the idea lingers, the more you question why you haven't thought of that.

it's a lesson learned that just because you're a little more techy than your friends since your parents practically neglected you (so you had to seek out any other source of entertainment), it doesn't mean you were destined to work in the field of technology or whatever. simply only having basic surface knowledge won't cut it.

it took a semester (maybe less) for you to come to terms with that. but better now than later.

"well, even if i change it, i wouldn't even know what to."

"you can always just take the core classes first and then decide after."

you hum out a low note and actually consider the possibility for a few seconds, until the person behind the counter calls yeosang's name and you're interrupted, watching as he stands to head to the front, you being slow to get up and follow behind him in case he needs help.

the entirety of you being here the past couple of months and you honestly didn't even know they served other smaller dishes like tteokbokki and even snacks you'd usually find at street food stalls.

but it's nice. just like this. you and yeosang sharing a drink and snack while carrying on small conversations that gets easier as the time pass. there's no pressure to please or entertain him, and he doesn't seem like he expects any. like he's doing all of this because he wants to, and you can't help but to let a small drop of tear prick your lower lash in hope he won't notice.

because you're not very used to anyone besides your friends, let alone a guy, who does something for you if not for his own benefit. you made that mistake not once, but twice.

not sure if you're even deserving of someone like yeosang who's been the victim of your lows and outbursts, but now the one to conjure up a rare, foreign feeling that brings out a small smile that settles on your lips.

yeosang sees the somewhat conflicted, hard-to-read expression on your face when he looks up from his food, asking in a quiet, concerned voice, "you okay?"

you chuckle lowly, a light clog in your throat and nod.

"i'm good."

~

"so, earlier, you mentioned possibly opting out of the current major but having no idea what you want to do after," yeosang is the first to speak as soon as you both leave the place, the orange tone painting the sky once again.

"yeah..." you reply.

"maybe think about other hobbies, or well... what do you like to do? what are you good at?"

you ponder the question; think back to your early teen years spent helping your aunt around the house, getting dragged into mingi's and yunho's shenanigans, play stupid pranks on one another and beat them at the occasional games when you paid mingi visits--and wow, what the fuck do you even like to do? what are you good at?

you don't even excel at anything specific, too, like yuna in art, or yeosang with computers. it's awful, the sinking realization that you are nothing special.

"i write? a little bit?" you answer, not the slightest confident in the answer. because who are you kidding. you're no hongjoong and you can barely even string a coherent sentence together.

you're not even consistent, unable to recall the last time you wrote in the journal, and it was started for all the wrong reasons.

yeosang nod, the both of your footsteps in sync.

"you can start there, then," he attempts, able to read the tone about just how unsure you are.

the air goes hushed and you fidget a little in spot before raising your voice again. "i don't know. i don't even think i'm good at it, and it's only been recent that i started writing. plus, it's not even like a story or whatever. i only write in a journal and honestly, i'm not even sure what the hell i've been writing."

he snickers, finding something so amusing about it. you shoot daggers at him.

"what?"

"you said you only started recently so of course you're not gonna be great. it takes time and efforts to perfect a craft. if you like it, there's no reason for you to not consider it at least."

he continues, "take the next semester or even year to think about it. i'm sure you'll figure something out."

you scoff, even pout. that still takes time, too--kang yeosang actually sounding reasonable and like he doesn't hate your guts.

"i think i like it better when you just insult me and go on your day."

he laughs and shakes his head, your gaze lingering on the curve of his lips longer than you should. you think he has a really nice pretty smile.

"but we're way past that point now, right?" his voice raising in pitch as to exaggerate the overall friendliness.

"right," you reply, same energy and all, until it hits you again. "oh!"

he seems taken aback by the high volume and snaps to you, curiosity in his reaction.

"that thing we agreed on," you say, a little too excited for your own good, yeosang's chest deflating with disappointment in return that puts a frown on your lips.

"oh come now, you weren't hoping i would forget?"

he shrugs and keep his gaze ahead, muttering back in such a nonchalant tone, "that might've been the idea."

you frown even more, whipping your head around and letting yeosang take the next couple of steps by himself before attention landing on the bench facing the street just a few feet away.

you're fast to jog up and swoop him away by the arm, using it to drag his entire body until it plops down onto the bench with you, his doe eyes staring back, and it's only until then that you realize you're still holding on.

"sorry," you mumble, releasing the captive arm as it slips down to hit the empty space between you two.

"you're good," he assures, and even that sounds awkward, too. a short silence that hangs before you clear your throat and revert the topic back, even daring to scoot yourself a little closer. since you guys are kind of friends now, right?

"what i was saying was... are you ready to tell me now?"

he turns the other way to scoff. "oh, you really want to know, huh?"

"well..." you trail off your tongue, letting the word roll around long enough till continuing on, "you kind of promised me."

"well..." he mimics the way you did it, "technically--"

"--oh," you cut in, your voice full of that playfulness that is strange in the presence of yeosang. "or are you a coward?"

"tsk!" he dismiss, trying to bite back a snicker that wants out because you're being a bit over-the-top right now... in a somewhat endearing way, that is. so eager to hear about his story that he kind of loosely pledged to tell only after you fulfill the 'deal'.

not that he ever doubted you would do well; he just didn't think you'd actually be so passionate about the entire bargain, it even being the first thing to be brought up when he ran into you outside the dorm building.

"me? coward? never," he brushes off, a smug but lighthearted act that brings a giggle from you.

"okay, then... tell me." you perk up, lips curled and eyes blinking his direction, way too thrilled for this.

his gaze drop to your lips for a second and he has to detach immediately, shaking the thought off.

"it's just... i don't know." he tries laughing it off. "you're going to think it's stupid."

you squint, tilting your head and frowning.

"why would it be stupid? i mean, i'm not sure what it's gonna be about, but i'll listen. whether you think it's stupid or not."

but judging from how he's acting, it looks like it might be something more personal than you initially thought; now starting to feel the tiniest bit of guilt for bothering him so much about it.

“maybe we can compromise with something else,” you offer an alternative but he rejects with a shake of his head.

"i'll tell you. just--you don't make fun of me or anything."

you chuckle. "i won't."

it goes quiet as yeosang prep himself up and try to muster how to start such a tragic tale. he thinks it's tragic, at least on his end. he's never shared it with anyone before; only those who were once close to him knew.

and for some reason, he feels an odd sense of trust in you. enough for you to be the first person that he's considered actually opening up to, regarding the topic.

"well," he starts, your full attention already on the first word. "i grew up in a small neighborhood; everyone knowing everyone kind of thing."

you nod, even humming quietly to let him know he's good to go on.

"so you know, like... there wasn't a lot of other kids my age and it was hard to make friends. but a girl, a year older than me... we became friends or something, you could say."

and if the way your eyes swell doesn't give away how immersed you already are, you don't know what will. because you hadn't expect kang yeosang's 'sob story' as he said it, would be about a girl.

"and this is going to be cliche as hell, but indeed i was in love with her. for the longest time."

he has removed his gaze from yours a long time ago, settling to watch the busy cars maneuvering through the streets instead. as if the retelling of this story is something to be embarrassed of. but you would beg to differ.

"i grew up with her, went through a ton of shit with her--meaning i also watched her fall in love with so many guys. maybe it wasn't love, i don't fucking know. we were young and stupid. but i sure hell did wanted to be one of them."

he takes a short breather before going on, "and it came true. i was one of them. well, or i thought i was. beginning of my junior year, she, for some reason, finally gave me a chance. oh... i was so happy... the day we became 'official'. i can't even recall any other time i was happier."

"and it's stupid because, thinking back, it was obvious she only did it out of pity. and maybe that's not a good enough reason to hate her; heck, i even started feeling bad for a moment just thinking back because i was such a fucking simp and probably annoyed the living hell out of her. but what i do hate her for, is for completely ghosting me."

"i could give less shit about the fact that i only found out she broke up with me through a mutual, or that only a month after, she started going out with a friend who'd always talk the maddest shit about her and why we shouldn't be together. no. it's the fact i never got any closure. paid her family a visit and was told she left for seoul literally the day before. no notice. no nothing. not even a 'fuck you, don't you ever come into my life again'. and maybe i don't deserve a closure, i wasn't much better by any means. but i sure can be bitter about it, and i guess here's me being bitter."

he finally turns to you, taking in your expression and feeling like he has to clarify some points.

"i didn't come to seoul in hope of sweeping her by her feet again or whatever. i just wanted to get away from the old city and kind of just... i don't know, try to find myself?"

you nod in acknowledgement. "no, i totally understand. i'm sorry to hear, though. but it really does sound like she had a big impact on you."

yeosang chuckles dryly in return; a smaller, somewhat sad smile gracing his lips after.

"i wish i could say you're wrong, and i wish i would mean it when i say i hate her. but like i said before, i can't recall any other time i was happier. in some ways, she made me a better person. it's complicated. i feel like i'm contradicting myself at this point."

your snicker directed at the last comment, assuring him with a shake of your head.

"you're good. but honestly, i never would've pegged you for someone romantic."

a scoff is what leaves him; you raising a brow in turn of what he's going to say.

"i'm not romantic. just realistic, i think. if i were to open my heart to someone, i'd want them to treasure it; to do the same back. which is why i am a lot more wary nowadays. i'd want to get to know that person really well first."

but you definitely still think he's a little bit of a romantic, he might not even realize it.

"because there's a different kind of pain that comes from loving someone who's out of your reach."

the amusement on you drops, the corners of your mouth falling downward at such a statement that if you mope about it long enough, you will see just how awfully relatable it is. but clasping it shut for a few seconds too long, all you say is, "fair enough."

"yeah... but anyways. that's my story. now it's your turn."

you glare at him through the pinched brows and wrinkles on your forehead.

"i don't remember that being apart of the deal."

"oh, forget the deal!" he waves off. "let's just talk. give me something tragic."

tragic? where would you even start with that? you think the entirety of your life has been a series of unfortunate, tragic events one after another; beginning with your parents, then your aunt and uncle, your ex-boyfriend, and now even a boy who managed to fool you with his charm and handsome look.

"my first and only boyfriend cheated on me."

yeosang is taken by surprise, his facial like a deer caught in headlight, whether at how fast you answered, or at what you just said. but you just figured, you might as well offer your own tale of a failed relationship, if that will make him feel any better.

"oh..." his delivery is muted, as if still trying to recover from shock, you have to laugh off the stone expression on his face; act like the revealed fact didn't bother you all that much.

you speak again, "i wasn't in love with him, though. i don't think i was. i only gave him a chance because he liked me and i felt compelled to say yes when he asked me out."

"so... you did it out of pity?"

it's like he got you there, your attention batting to the streets in shame. you're starting to sound like the girl in yeosang's story; who, maybe, went out with a boy not because she liked him, but for another reason.

except, in your story, he was the one who had hurt you. said in your face you deserved whatever happened, and though you didn't love him, it did hurt. it still hurts. because it was another person you couldn't get to stay; another proof that possibly, you're just not meant to be loved.

"you know..." instead of answering his previous question, you divert the subject, because at the same time, maybe you can comfort him as well with what you're about to say. "you reminded me of him a lot at first."

his features twist, not amused in the slightest, and you don't blame him. why wouldn't he be offended being compared to your cheating ex?

"he was very blunt and sarcastic," you add on, "if he didn't like me doing something, he was gonna let me know. and you were just... you didn't have any filter at all."

whether it's guilt or embarrassment on yeosang's face, you're not able to tell. but implying he's an asshole is not your intention.

"but the more i got to know you and spent time with you, i realized i was very wrong. you're nothing like him. not even in the slightest."

he goes from being puzzled to the smallest of light that starts reflecting in his eyes at the genuine compliment that leaves you.

"i questioned for the longest time how mingi and yunho could ever like you, but i'm starting to get it now, i think. it's because you're a great friend. you do so many things for yunho simply just because he's a friend."

you don't even notice a smile has crept to your lips, but yeosang catches it and return an even bigger one, his heart folding in a way that is so pure and innocent because of your gesture.

"well, thanks. i am feeling very flattered right now," he finally says, and your giggle echoes faintly.

"just being honest," you respond. "so that's my lesson learned: that it's hard to judge someone based on first encounter, impression, or anything of that matter."

because the boy who you thought would be the bane of your existence turned out to be a wonderful surprise. on the other hand, the one person you used to look at through a rose-coloured glass and with heart eyes, turned out to be just one of the many things on the list that keep you awake at night thinking to yourself why you're not enough.

san is sprawled on the couch, tired and ready to go to bed by the time there's a knock at his door, a bit dazed when he opens it to reveal a rather composed wooyoung with his hands buried inside the pockets of his jacket.

he wonders what his friend's doing here; at this time and in an outfit that doesn't look like it's for a regular event.

"here to use the bathroom," wooyoung clarifies, inviting himself in and not bothering to hear san's response considering the amount of times the boy himself used wooyoung's place to fulfill his own needs.

san doesn't say anything and only shut the door behind him, heading back to the position he was in before.

"we're going out tonight," wooyoung announces, stopping in front of the bathroom to turn to his friend; san snapping to him at the call. "an end of the semester nightout with a couple other people from campus. you thinking of coming along?"

"nah. think i'll sit this one out."

"alright," wooyoung mumble, disappearing into the other room.

san usually isn't one to reject an invitation like that, but just yesterday, the day before, and the days before that one, all he'd been doing is going to parties, getting drunk, and doing the one thing he came to those parties for.

it can start getting repetitive; even for someone like him.

"just to let you know, you're almost out of toilet papers."

wooyoung slams the door shut and begins making way to the front; san watching his movements carefully until wooyoung just stops midway, but he's already moving back to the tv screen at that point.

wooyoung debates for a moment whether he should tell san what he saw earlier. it's probably a bad idea knowing how his friend is and the extent he goes to when he has to have something, or when it doesn't go his way.

but realistically speaking, san's never gave a shit about any of the girls he messed or messes with. wooyoung picked that up through a lengthy history of constantly trying to rile him up by name dropping and mentioning any of the girls san saw and sees, in hope of one day finding a weak spot.

because san is a good friend... to wooyoung. but he's always had a problem with the way san views the world; love, relationship, women.

he also has a problem with the fact san never listens to him. everything in one ear and out the other. he didn't listen when wooyoung told him the girl he was fucking had a boyfriend and he was gonna get his ass beat (which he didn't, unfortunately, because san has a gift for getting out of trouble), so there's a very big chance he didn't listen either when wooyoung told him to leave you alone.

and really, above all, wooyoung is just petty. and because he is petty, he will take the opportunity to just annoy him, even if san doesn't give a shit.

"by the way, i saw y/n," he discloses nonchalantly, and the speed at which san twisted his neck to look at him would have wooyoung believing this is all a very vivid dream.

"where?" san asks, the tone very standard at first like it's just the littlest bit curious.

"near the cafe a couple blocks from the dorms. we passed it earlier. she was with someone. yeosang? i think that's his name."

the clockwork in san's mind starts as he tries to recall who this fucking yeosang guy is. name sounds familiar but nothing's clicking.

"the one we went out to dinner with last time," wooyoung adds, and that's when the light bulb goes off.

“sit down, sit down!” wooyoung hustles, pushing san down onto the seat, yeosang scooting to the wall to make space.

wooyoung plops himself down at the end, fidgeting in his spot.

“this is yeosang,” he starts; the two boys next to each other exchanging a small head bow.

"i think they might be a thing now. she looked really happy."

wooyoung's talking out of his ass, saying whatever just for the heck of it. you for sure looked happy, though. you conversed with yeosang with a smile on your face the entire time.

you guys being a 'thing' might be a bit over-the-top but it doesn't hurt anyone to exaggerate a little. san never cared so why would he now?

but wooyoung doesn't take notice of the way san's body tenses up and his grip on the arm of the couch gets tighter, wooyoung's mind completely elsewhere, focus on getting out now that he's done all he wanted to do.

"alright, well, i'm gonna head out now before i piss the other guys off."

and he's gone, leaving san to digest the new information as something churns in his stomach and his knuckles clenches. because now, it's starting to make sense.

the sudden silence from you and the unanswered message. you never even read his text from two days ago. it's all because you're too busy with yeosang.

he can still recall the small and subtle glances you guys would sometime exchange during dinner; the way your eyes would shoot to him, and he would try to cover the hidden laughter that wanted out because you did something endearing.

and san typically doesn't mull over the girls he hooks up with; who they slept with before or will sleep with after him. because most of them know what they're getting into. they don't expect anything from him after and he doesn't expect anything from them, either.

but over the course of seeing you, he's taken a rather big liking to you above any others. because out of all his conquests, you're the one who's always willing to go above and beyond for him.

you have feelings for him that are more than just simply fulfilling a need--you actually like him.

and in typical san fashion, because he's selfish, he uses that knowledge to hang over your head, knowing whatever he does, you're going to put up with it.

so how is he suppose to feel now, that you of all people is ignoring him, with someone else right by your doorstep ready to take his place.

well, it definitely doesn't feel good.

a fit of rage, jealousy, and possessiveness overtakes him completely, and before he knows it, he's up and with his car keys dangling around his finger. he has to talk to you.

even if he's on the verge of passing out right now and tired out of his mind. even if paying you a visit is quite possibly going to be the worst thing he can ever do to you.

"wait, so with that being established, could that mean you were being cautious around me because you were afraid of falling for me?" you tease yeosang through the elevator ride.

the chemistry has been so natural, the rest of the night spent in comfortable conversations that were full of sparks, and you have never felt so safe in the presence of anyone before.

he snickers. "oh would you let it go. i told you that like... an hour ago."

you return a giggle of your own, yeosang continuing on, "but i might've been a bit of an asshole to a couple other girls. maybe."

you roll your eyes playfully, at the same time stepping out of the elevator when the door open, about to make another remark when you catch a figure from the corner of your eye. standing in front of your room, head down and attention glued to his phone screen.

he finally looks up at the sound of the commotion, and you merely gasp in place when that familiar feeling of butterflies swoop your stomach at the sight of none other than san.

what the hell is he doing here? again.

you and yeosang are frozen in place, his questioning gaze lasering san's that stiffens upon seeing yeosang by your side, looking so in place and comfortable; that fit of rage, jealousy, and possessiveness making a comeback with even more vengeance.

silence consumes the thick air, you breaking it by shifting just enough so you're able to whisper to yeosang; thank him for making sure you arrive safely, and that he's good to return.

yeosang shoots san one last glance, the boy giving him all kinds of wrong signs, but it's also not his place to meddle. he nods and tells you a goodnight, shuffling his feet back into the elevator and you watch until the door closes on him.

now, it's just you and the person who has given you nothing but pain, showing up once again when you experience even an ounce of joy.

you walk to the door of your room with careful steps, stopping in front of him, everything about your body language is nervous and in defense mode, thinking that this is it.

this is where you cut off everything with him; the kisses, sex, months of being in each other's arms--this is where it will all end. you will tell him you no longer want anything to do with him because you can't agree to his conditions.

you're not made for a casual relationship without any budding feelings. it's just not who you are; therefore, you and him are not compatible.

"hey..." he's the one to start speaking, "i'm sorry i haven't been reaching out, i was--"

"--it's fine," you cut, not wanting to hear any more lies from him. the fact he doesn't even recall showing up drunk is enough to convince you there's no need to hear him out at all.

"oh," he simply says, and it's the most awkward silence after of you just standing there and he thinking of what else to say.

"i know you're probably upset, but--"

"--it's fine, san. i-i don't care anymore."

anymore. san thinks over the word more than he should, and the longer he lingers on it, the more he find himself hating everything about your tone and attitude.

but he's always been quite shameless, always testing the situation even if he feels a shitstorm coming.

"can i come in? for a little bit?"

come in. you know what that means, and how it will always end. you'll like to believe you're way past that now.

with a heavy sigh and striving a few steps forward, you pull out your key.

"i'm really tired." you unlock the frame, pushing it just slightly open. "i think it's best if you leave." your palms against it, slowly creeping yourself in; your voice unwelcoming because you're hoping he will get the hint and leave you the heck alone.

"and... i-i don't think we should see each other again after--"

your breath is whisked away, it all happening so fast. one second you were still in the hallway and the next, you're pushed into the room along with san shoving himself in, his grip around both your wrists and backing you into the wall.

"--all because of that fucking guy, right?" he taunts, a look on him so terrifying, you have never seen san angry like this before.

"what are you talking about?" you push him back by his chest, honestly amazed at the amount of sheer strength you hold when being cornered.

but that just might've been a mistake; he's able to catch his steps before stumbling completely and pins both his hands to the wall with a bang, trapping you inbetween his arms and hungry gaze.

you flinch a little.

"yeosang. the one that came with you. are you seeing him?"

your eyes squint--perplexed, only able to think, what about yeosang? and why of all times, now is when he's deciding to give a shit.

he's never cared about anything regarding you--what you do or who you hang out with--always leaving when he wants to, never bothering to call or text if not for his own benefits, and now he shows up (not drunk) after almost a month of silence to interrogate you against your will, shoving himself into your safe space like an intruder.

"and why does it matter whether i am or i'm not. you said it yourself, san... that we are just friends. i never even asked about any of the girls you see."

some of the rage on san's face dissipates, replaced by the conflict that runs through him--how and when you got this confident to even talk back when you were so tight-lipped the last time he saw you.

and it's true. you guys are just friends, and even friends doesn't sound right. it honestly is a very generous term actually, considering the extent of the relationship.

so yes, he doesn't have the rights to be concerned about who you're with or what you do with them. but again, he's selfish; maybe even rotten to the core. the thoughts of you ever being with someone else never proving to be a threat. not even jongho who really was just a nuisance.

but now, the threat is very much real, and he doesn't like it one bit.

he was the one who touched you first, claimed you first--so in terms, you belong to him. not yeosang or any other fucking guys. him.

and he's going to make sure you know that.

disregarding the veins practically popping on his forehead, you just want to establish a point at this rate, talking in your thin voice, "after this, i really do think it's best if we stop--"

his lips is on yours before you can finish the sentence. before you can make it known once and for all that you do not want to see him again after this.

despite his amazing sex drive and ability to make you cum, san isn't much of a tongue kisser. rarely, actually. but by how his tongue is moving against your protesting lips, you'd think this is his favorite thing in the world.

you're the one to break the kiss, pushing him back and trying to catch your breath after. it's when you see that familiar smirk on him that the fear creeps in to form a knot that travels down your throat.

"you were saying?" he cocks his head, so smug about the power he still has over you, so evident as it's displayed right in front of his face in all its glory.

but you haven't lost, yet. you still have the time to get rid of him and show that the effect he had on you is no more.

you clear your throat and straighten your posture, putting on an act of bravery.

"i said it's best if we stop seeing each other after this. our agreement or whatever it was, i don't want it anymore."

the smirk only widens, san honestly amused you still have some restraint.

"oh, really?"

an eyebrow is raised on him before you feel the cold sensation of his fingers crawling up one of your legs, slowly traveling to under your skirt.

you gulp.

"then stop me." he leans in to whisper, his breath felt on the tip of your skin, ghosting and sending a shiver down your spine--that sudden but recognizable itch in between your legs again begins coming into bloom--one that is truly going to be your downfall, you can already feel it.

"s-stop, san," you mutter with eyes glued on him. you don't even sound like you mean it; like you even want him to stop at all. and he knows; he knew.

that no matter how hard you fight, all he has to do is try just a little harder and you will fold.

he chuckles, whether at how cute you look or at your words, his hand stops in place and squeezes at your thigh, drawing closer and whispering in your ear using that deep tone that makes you shutter in excitement.

"do you really want me to?"

he pulls away after, face merely inches away and your gaze skips to his lips for a moment; lips that are on yours the next and comfortably taking you in this time because there's no more act or pretense that you don't want him.

because he still conjures up butterflies and still make you feel that something that is so unique only when in the proximity of him.

you still miss him when you know you shouldn't, and the taste of his lips still feels like home even though it's now only a forbidden flavor that serves as a reminder that in the end, you will be your own worst enemy.

your arms rest around his shoulders the way they usually do, replying back to the kiss and trying to meet his pace; at the same time, his fingers edging closer to the shorts under your skirt, stopping when he reaches the top, breaking away from the kiss to laser you a glare.

he scans your outfit swiftly before looking up again; something displeased already blossoming on his expression.

"did you wear this for yeosang?" the way he's able to flip flop emotions almost too scary, now currently showing the same frightening and much more menacing side once before that sparked fear in you.

you're about to answer but he cuts you off with a brief "fuck it." going back to resume the kiss that is a lot sloppier than the previous one, his lips moving against yours in frustration like he's trying to convey something.

you don't get a second to catch your breath when he abruptly swoops you from the behind--your arms still around his shoulders for support--and throws you down onto your bed, your back sinking into the sheet momentarily.

he situates himself and traps both your legs between his, and you think it's just going to be like any other times you both had sex.

he's probably going to eat you out or make you suck his cock, but san surprises you when he grabs your arm and flip you around just like that--your face right into the pillow.

the sound of his belt unbuckling is after, and you turn to look over your shoulder.

"san..." you call out, but he continues to leave you in astonishment when he hisses back instead.

"shut up."

he tosses the belt, and from the way it hits the wall on yuna's side before dropping to the floor means there was some force put into it.

"just... just shut up." and his cock is next, freeing itself from his pants.

it's when you feel the shorts underneath ripped from your skin, the cold air gushing right past it, that you release what sounds like a mixture of a gasp along with a moan.

he pushes your legs apart and scoots in, focus on the sight of your bare pussy that still needs some lubrication.

spitting on his fingers, you can only let your head fall onto the pillow as solace when he rubs over your entrance in preparation before inserting two digits in, a quiet groan escaping at the sensation you haven't felt in a while.

"look at you so fucking wet already, and you said you don't want to see me anymore." he chuckles a sinister, mocking laughter, bunching your skirt up to where he can see everything, gripping your hips firmly to line up with his hard-on.

"but truth is, you'll always come back for this cock."

the laughter intensifies and so does the knot in your stomach, barely able to get out, "d-do you have a cond--" before a curse leaves your mouth.

your eyes shut and you immediately grip at the sheet when he inserts his length in without any notice. without a fucking condom.

and san has never had sex without a condom before, but his jealousy has taken over completely, currently only focus on making sure you know you belong to him.

only he can fuck you like this and only he can feel your pussy as it hug around his length so nicely like it's made just for his cock.

his nails dig at your hips and you have to muffle the oncoming screams by burying your face into the pillow, san fucking you through the high at such an intense pace, you may never want to go back to slow and steady sex ever again.

"what were you doing with yeosang?" he asks through the grunts and lost breath.

lifting your head up to look over your shoulder again, you try forming an answer in hardship of the pleasure coursing your system.

"we were--oh fuck," you curse at that spot being hit so perfectly, "we were just hanging out."

he snaps into you a little harder at that, the hold you have on the sheet tightening.

"will you stop seeing him?" he asks again, his pace slowing down as he awaits your response.

"i-i don't know," you answer honestly, since you're actually starting to warm up to yeosang and he's nice to be around.

san's facial twists in red though you can't see it clearly because he's fucking you too good right now.

"i said," he almost growl, "will you stop seeing him?" picking up his speed again and nails digging even further into your flesh as he practically slams your cunt with the harsh thrusts.

"y-yes!" you give in, defeated instantly at the overwhelming sensation and pit that's starting to form. "i'll stop seeing him!" your face falling back into the pillow once more, the sheet in your grip, and only able to cry sounds of pleasure the rest of the session as he pounds into you over and over again.

you come hard and wet, unable to recall a time you ever came like this. san fucks you a few more time while you try catching your breath and pulls out.

there's no need for him to cum. he already accomplished exactly what he wanted.

"now that wasn't so hard, was it?" you feel the shift of his body weight as he stands on his knees again, and you're still panting with the side of your face stuck to the poor pillow.

it's when that high from what just happened is starting to die out and another feeling so familiar consisting of guilt and shame settles in again.

the commotion of san getting off the bed to go look for his belt competely ignored, you only staring into space at yuna's side of the room already imagining what mingi's and yunho's reactions will be like.

you have broken a promise. you went against your friends, and all for a boy who doesn't even like you.

a boy, who, will leave in the next few minutes; tell you he has somewhere to be, and will lie to you all over again the way he always does.

but before the end of the night, choi san surprises you just one more time.

he doesn't leave.

instead, he walks to where you're lying down and places a peck to your cheek that has you picking your head up to look at him.

he gives you that soft, handsome smile that shows those dimples you love dearly, and offers a hand.

"want to do something together?"

next // series m.list

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @belletiny @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @m4rsluv @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi @barbielibra @tmtxtf @brown88 @harusoraa @frankenstein852 @yujispinkhair @mermaid17venus @nolxverlikeme

[whumping-valentine]

🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 12 🦌

"Anaira and Ethel"

Content: Vampire whumpee, werewolf whumper, kidnapping, restraints, threats, supernatural shit, lady whump (even though I actually hate that term but whatever. Why are women a separate category??? Fuck you)

2400 words

Hey hey, sorry about that cliffhanger last chapter, but cliffhangers and plot twists are my specialty! It's simply not my writing without long, wordy dramatics and throwing you for a loop. Also, apologies for taking so long. I think I'm overcoming my writer's block now so hopefully it won't happen again.

This is a direct continuation of the last part, so if you need to look back and read the ending it's here!

Hope you enjoy! 🐺🦇

     Anaira didn't respond to her, simply squeezing her eyes shut as she tensed. Shit.

     “What do you think you’re doing here, huh? Feelin’ suicidal, are you?” Ethel said, nudging for an answer.

      “I’ll have you know I was trying to leave. You're the one making trouble where there's no need.” Anaira turned to her; Ethel's face was covered with her skull mask as always. She realized she was no longer wearing her own.

      “Mmhm. And what were you doing here in the first place if not causing trouble?” Ethel folded her arms, “Any other fang-toothed, sunburnt heathens out where they shouldn’t be?”

      “How am I supposed to know?”

     “They're your colony. Sounds like bad leadership to me. I know where every member of my pack is at all times.”

     “That sounds like a real cult to me. I’m trying to protect my own. You just want control.”

     “Trying to talk back to me on my own grounds, are you? Sorry, but that’s not gonna fly.” She yelled out, “Anthony! Agnes! Over here, NOW!”

     Anaira took off immediately without a second thought, leaving Fawn and Hunter behind. Ethel ran after her, while Fawn and Hunter were roughly tackled to the ground.

     “Ow, fuck!” Fawn exclaimed as they were jumped. One of them— impossible to tell who— sat on top of them. Their knees jabbed into their sides, and fingers tore into their shoulders as they were held down. “What the fuck!”

     “Sorry.” A feminine voice said, “Leader’s orders.” She looked to the other, “Ant, get the gun off them.”

     “Can’t you see I’m struggling here?!” He said, Hunter effectively fighting back against him, trying to push him off.

     “Anthony, it’s a human.”

     “A strong human! You got the weak one!”

     “Hey!” Fawn exclaimed at the insult, while Hunter chuckled. They managed to kick Anthony off of them, but before they could run, Agnes pounced them down face first into the snow, and quickly tossed their gun out of their reach. Before Hunter could even process what was happening, she slipped a pair of handcuffs around their wrists behind their back.

     Fawn tried to make a run for it, but Anthony pushed them down again. His hands firmly held down their upper back before he grabbed their wrists and wrangled them to their feet. Agnes was standing with her foot on Hunter’s back, holding a second pair of handcuffs waiting to be put on Fawn.

     Fawn struggled while Anthony held their wrists tightly behind their back, walking them over to Agnes, “H-hey! Look, we’ve- we seem to have been caught up in some wrong stuff here, we’re innocent and- we don't want any trouble! I’M innocent, actually! Take them, and not me! I didn't do anything! I swear!”

     The two ignored them, Agnes taking them off of Anthony as she cuffed them, “Oh, come on, please, I don’t wanna be double kidnapped, this isn’t fair! This is— mmhph!” They mumbled as cloth was shoved into their mouth, followed by duct tape, then a bag over their head. The same was done to Hunter, and the two were walked off to God knows where.

     Their captors' hands held tightly onto their upper arms, painfully digging their fingers into them, forcing them forward. It was hard for either of them to feel worried when the only thing they could think about were the sore pains. Their arms felt like they were actively in the process of bruising. Like their muscles were being ripped into.

     It wasn't too long before they felt themselves enter a building, the snow turning to concrete while their surroundings warmed. When they heard the doors shut behind them the harsh howling winds were replaced with pure silence. Their footsteps echoed off the seemingly large walls as they were led down a set of stairs. A metal door could be heard opening before both of them were shoved inside. The metal doors closed and the pair could be heard walking away, their footsteps fading back up the stairs until it was silent.

     Fawn struggled up onto their knees and vigorously shook their head until the bag flew off. They threw their head back to push their glasses back on their face and looked around. Hunter was sitting, and clearly angry by the situation (yeah who’s fault is that?).

     Fawn carefully stood to their feet and walked over to them, turning around to grab the bag off their head. They then walked in front of them and made a grabbing motion with their hands. Hunter leaned into them and Fawn pulled the tape from their mouth. They then walked behind them, got on the ground, and put their mouth to their hands, and Hunter did the same to them. They both spit the cloth out of their mouths and took a moment to collect themselves, sitting in silence.

     “Great going, Hunter.” Fawn said bitterly, “You just HAD to go looking for trouble, didn’t you?”

     “How the fuck was I supposed to know they were supernatural?!” 

     “Supernatural or not, you still went looking for a fucking cult. Honestly, I’m fucking embarrassed that out of everyone who could’ve kidnapped me, it was you. What the hell does that say about me? You’re fucking stupid!”

     “No, you see, my mistake was not killing you on the spot.”

     “Oh really? That was your mistake?”

     “Yeah, it was.”

     “Well MY mistake was apparently thinking going for a walk was a good idea! God, I just wanted to take a fucking nature walk! That’s all I wanted! God DAMNIT!”

     “Yeah, maybe don’t wander off the trail.”

     Fawn glared at them, “I will fucking strangle you!”

     “Good luck with that.”

     “I should’ve let you stay gagged. I didn’t have to help you, you know?”

     “Yeah and I didn’t have to help you, either.” Hunter said, “Yet we both still did.”

------

     Anaira was running as fast as her legs could carry her, fueled on pure adrenaline. She knew Ethel was faster and stronger than her. This was a hopeless chase. Though still, she persisted. If she could catch up with her colony back on the other side of the forest, they could all gang up on her. She just had to last a little while longer.

     She cursed herself in her head while she ran. It was such a risky thing to go out into Ethel’s part of the woods, and she knew that, of course she did. It just wasn’t fair what they took from them. It was originally theirs, but Ethel didn’t want them to have it. The blood rivers that ran through it were too good for them. Anaira’s colony was just so thirsty, so she risked it all. She would do anything for them. It’s not like any of them asked for this life…

     So then why was she leading danger to them?

     Anaira slowed to a jog, then a walk, then she stood, and collapsed to her knees in the snow. She hung her head low and closed her eyes.

     “Oh, so first you run away like a coward, and then you just give up?” Ethel said, “You’re such a pathetic fucking creature. Get up.” Anaira obeyed and stood to her feet.

     Ethel smirked under her mask, “Oh, what a day this is! This feels good. That’s right, get over here, you leech.” She grabbed the defeated vampire by her shoulders and roughly dragged her back to base.

     When they entered inside the building, all the other identically dressed pack members looked at Anaira, and whispers filled the quiet air. Some confused, others nervous, most excited. Anaira kept her head down in shame, while Ethel walked with hers held high in pride.

     She was led down a set of stairs into Ethel's quarters, where she was thrown onto a chair and tightly tied. Neither said a single word until Ethel tied the last knot and stepped back behind her.

     She chuckled darkly, “ So, Anaira. How's it feel?” She taunted, “To finally be caught? Oh, I always wondered how long it would take you to finally give up!” She put her hands on her shoulders, “I'm so glad today was that day.”

     Anaira took a breath and sighed to calm herself. She tried to shrug her off her shoulders, but Ethel just dug her fingers into them.

     “How do you think your colony is going to survive the apocalypse without you?”

     “There is no apocalypse.” She mumbled.

     “Do you think all of this end-of-the-word talk is nonsense?” Ethel said, “For once the conspiracy idiots are actually right. The gods are upset and it's time everyone pay.”

     “Can’t imagine why they'd be upset when some of us are raging beasts.”

     “Oh, so the bloodsucker is the one trying to take the moral high ground? If one of us is an unholy spawn against the gods, it's going to be the one who should be dead.” Ethel let go of her shoulders and walked in front of her, “We're obviously more connected to the gods than you are if we can feel it coming.”

     “I think you're crazy is what I think. There are no gods.”

    “And you wonder why they're upset.” Ethel stood with her hands folded behind her back, “How do you think it’s going to look when your colony finds out I captured their leader? Not good, is it?”

     “You don’t scare me. You think you scare me?”

     “I’m not trying to scare you. I asked you a question about your colony, I didn’t ask if you were scared.” her voice was calm and methodical, “You bats like to claim we’re nothing more than raging beasts. Which one of us seems to have better control of our emotions right now?” While her face wasn’t visible, a smirk could be heard in her tone.

     “I’d like to see you be all calm and collected if I were the one to capture and tie you up.”

     “Mm. I’m certain I would be.” She walked over to Anaira, bending over with her hands on her knees to get on her level, like she was speaking to a child, “Darling, have you forgotten all those times you’ve called me a beast?...” She lifted a hand and grabbed her chin, “Anaira, I would eat you alive during a full moon. And, if I recall correctly…” She whispered, “The next one’s tonight…”

     Bloody tears welled in Anaira’s eyes, her breathing accelerating.

     Ethel moved her gloved hand from her chin to her throat, “Or rather I should say…” She slowly squeezed, “Within the next hour…”

     “E-Ethel-” She choked. In a few quick seconds, Ethel removed her hand, pulled off her glove, and slapped her across the face. The impact echoed in the space, and left an immediate bright red mark. The impact was so harsh it disoriented her, making her dizzy.

     Red tears leaked down her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut, “What... what are you gonna do with me? K-kill me?” She forced herself to look at the masked woman, her unreadable features terrifying. 

     “I should.” Ethel responded. “I will. But for now, I’d like to keep you. Who knows if we'll need an offering or sacrifice during the apocalypse? You and your little friends will serve good bait if needed.”

     Anaira’s eyes widened, “You- you got Rudy?”

     “If you’re referring to one of those humans you so nobley left behind, then yes. What a good person you are, to take off without a second thought.”

     Anaira dropped her head in shame. Ethel scoffed a chuckle, “How pitiful.” She said quietly, and slowly left the room. When Anaira heard the door click shut she broke down into tears. She cried until she had nothing left in her.

     All alone in the cold, deafening silence, only hearing he own thoughts bouncing around her head. The chill ran to the bone. Her breath fogged like smoke in the air, and she shivered. Shivered from the cold, from fear, from the anger she had towards both Ethel and herself. Maybe the colony was better off without her.

     When Ethel finally returned hours later, she nearly knocked the door off of its hinges. She fell on her hands and knees and let out a crazed, wild laugh, and she said with a growl, “Guess who's turning! Oh, yes, you've never seen me turned before, have you? Oh, we're all turning tonight.” She crawled over to her, a strain in her voice, "How much damage do you think I can do with claws?"

     Anaira watched with wide eyes as Ethel started to transform right in front of her. She was growing wilder than an animal, the sounds purely unnatural. Her whole body grew, stretching out her clothes as her limbs distorted and grew fur. Her sharp claws scratched into the concrete.

     Anaira had to get out of here, and there was only one way that would be possible. Her powers were unlocked now that it was night. Though she was so low on strength… but she could do it. She could.

     She closed her eyes and focused her breath. It took so much concentration and power. She felt her weak heart beat with whatever little blood it pumped. Before Ethel could attack, she was engulfed in black smoke, turning into a bat, out of her bonds. She flapped her wings as hard as she could and flew her way through the halls while Ethel growled.

     She flew up the stairwell, and out an open window. Ethel completely knocked down the door as she ran after her on all fours. Anaira flew through the trees, disoriented from the dark, and the wind, and her low magic. She felt herself grow dizzy, and before she knew it, she briefly blacked out.

     Her frail wings gave out on her as she lost consciousness. When she came back to she was falling from the sky, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She collided in the snow, breaking her fall. She heard the crunch of snow and growling approach her.

     Ethel picked her up by the wings, pinching them together with her claws. She growled a laugh and held her up in front of her face, her mask perfectly fitting her muzzle. Her voice was almost an echo, an unnatural tone.

    “Oh, Anaira… when will you learn you can’t run from me?”

Hell yeah back into the whumpy shit (just with different characters lol)

I really love vampire werewolf rivalries (and rivalries in general) so this shit is so fun for me. Also I can feel my alien phase returning which is good because, uh, aliens next part? 👀

(Also whumpy-wyrms you are the reason I felt motivated to buckle down and finish this so thank you 👍)

Taglist: @parasitebunny @whumpy-wyrms @fruitypinapple00 @otterfrost

Lmk in the comments if you want added or removed !

Thanks for reading !! 💕🦌

[missbabyjay]

What Is This? - Joel Miller x F Reader

TLOU SPOILERS!

MASTERLIST - CHECK OUT MY PAGE FOR MORE!

HI! This takes place in my own made up dimension lol. I followed parts of the actual show, and then completely disregarded other parts. I plan on leaving Bill and Frank in, but I wasn't sure about Tess (no hate to her character). This is sorta self-indulgent so I hope you enjoy anyway! I think I might make a part two but I need to know what y'all think :)

I'd also like to point out that I am just becoming familiar with Joel. I would like to keep him rough around the edge, but I think there's truly a sweet person under there and I need some fluffier stuff with him. I'm seeing way too many pieces where Joel is next level crazy. So this is for my fluff lovers.

Warnings/Content: Mature, Swearing, Angst, injury, the tiniest bit of fluff

Summary: You and Joel don't particularly enjoy each other, but with the shared responsibility of Ellie you're stuck together - being forced to address whatever weird thing there is between you two.

Word Count: 2K

. . .

You had been working alongside Joel for the past two years. You had met through Tess, doing odd jobs for her. Joel never seemed to trust you, although he never really trusted anyone. He didn’t enjoy your attitude, and found you to be sloppy at your job. The two of you were similar in one way; you had enough of the corrupt shit occurring in the QZ. You wanted to get away, you craved freedom - even if that meant living among the infected. You craved life outside of the walls… away from FEDRA.

Besides that, you and Joel butt heads like two mountain goats; fighting for dominance in the partnership you shared. You both had cold, yet overpowering personalities. Your morals were long gone. You both had an incredible amount of trauma constantly sitting on your shoulders, making the linger of tension much stronger between you two.

You insisted that you’d be able to handle yourself outside of the walls. You had experienced life among the ruined world before making it to Boston… how did he figure you ended up there anyway? The only reason you agreed to transporting Ellie was in hopes of finding new life, somewhere far away from the Boston QZ. With or without Joel, you didn’t care. In fact, you could say you were using him as leverage to get out of here - he knew the secret ways out, where to go when you reached the open world outside of the large, consuming and towering walls that encapsulated you within the fucked up corrupt society you lived in.

It had been a tense few days since you left the QZ. Plans changed and you were left with the responsibility of Ellie; something neither you or Joel really wanted. You trudged your feet forward, following behind the two. You knew there were a few places that Joel stashed extra items, making you hopeful for a pit stop. Your legs ached, sending shooting pains to your feet. Each step you took forward made you wince with pain… this sort of trek was easier before you got comfortable with your sedentary life within the QZ.

“We’re gonna stop right up here, stay back… I’m gonna check inside,” Joel instructed you and Ellie. 

You sighed, sending a gentle smile to Ellie who reciprocated. You appreciated Ellie’s attitude. She didn’t really have much of a filter and she stood up for herself; respectable for a fourteen year old, you thought to yourself. You wished you were the same way when you were fourteen. You will never forget being that age; that was the year the outbreak began.

As always, you didn’t listen to Joel. You proceeded forward causing him to let out a low, powerful, “No.” To which you responded by rolling your eyes.

The two of you followed behind Joel, and when you entered the building you were met with a run down gas station. Yet the ravaged sight was genuinely nostalgic to you. You couldn’t remember the last time you were in a gas station. Your brain flooded back to pre-apocalyptic life, a time where life was enjoyable; renting a movie, grabbing a slushy, indulging in some candy. Your hands glided along the dust covered shelves as you walked down the aisle. Ellie wandered off while Joel searched for his stash.

“So what’s your plan, old man?” You muttered to Joel as he continued trying to retrace his steps.

“Why’s it matter to you? Thought you could handle this on your own,” he grunted.

You continued tracing shapes and drawing in the dust, dragging your feet along. “You’d like that. Wouldn’t you?”

Joel stopped, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You continued stalking the aisles, but now you were staring into Joel’s eyes. He looked angry, a look that was quite familiar to you.

“I know you don’t even want me here. I don’t even want to be here with you. I’m sure there’s better people out there anyway,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes sarcastically.

Joel stopped his scattered movements to face you, quickly removing the space between the two of you.

His hand forcefully made its way to your delicate neck, pushing you against the end cap of the aisle. Your eyes widened as you gasped for air, “Look girl, you know you wouldn’t survive out there without me. And after losing Tess? I’m not losing you either.”

Joel stared into your eyes, into your soul. Your neck gulped under the strong grip of his hand - you struggled to gasp, your lungs were begging for air. He finally let go, causing you to intake a deep breath, trying to find the words, but instead tears began to well and you hurried out of the busted gas station.

Joel knew he fucked up. He didn’t know what came over him, but he couldn’t lose you or Ellie. Not necessarily out of love, but for the sake of his own ego, and guilt. Joel couldn’t handle anymore of that.

“Ellie!” He yelled out, searching for her in the building.

She slowly slid around the corner of the small office space, “What the fuck was that dude?”

Joel shook his head, “Let’s go. Now.” He demanded.

To Ellie’s surprise Joel ran out of the building. She quickly followed behind.

. . .

Your heart was racing as your chest expanded and closed in at a rapid pace. You tripped on a large tree chunk, leaving you sprawled on the ground. You pushed yourself to stand with the limited energy you had left. Your hands held you up as you used your knees for support, trying to not put too much pressure on your weak and injured foot. You attempted to get ahold of your breathing; the tears still falling down your dirtied face like a waterfall.

You didn’t understand… he cared about you?

The way he treated you since the beginning just didn’t match up with his words. What kind of game was he playing? He would throw cold, intimidating bitterness towards you for any small mistake. He didn't hesitate to put you in your place, and never paid you any attention that wasn't direly necessary.

You didn’t remember what it felt like to be cared about. You always ran from affection… even before the apocalypse.

You heard your name being called from afar, awakening your fight or flight to kick in - you wanted to run, as far as you could, but your body couldn’t withstand anymore; your legs continued to ache, your ankle was agonizing and your lungs felt like they were filled with blood. You were far more out of shape than you thought, leaving your inner weakness to overtake you. 

You decided to let the universe decide your destiny - you laid on the ground and waited, like bait. Either for Joel to find you, or an infected.

Your eyes wandered above you. You soaked in the leafy green trees towering over you. The sounds of nature filling your ears. The warm wind blowing against your rough skin. The earth below you felt cool and comforting. Your breathing began to slow and you found your eyes becoming heavy. As much as you wanted to fight it, you let them close and soon you were met with a hazy half-ass slumber - the best you could get in an apocalypse.

. . .

Joel felt panic wash over him. He just told you he couldn’t lose you, and yet here he was searching for you. “Where could she be?” he questioned as he began to feel that all too familiar feeling - guilt.

Ellie joined him in calling your name. She felt nervous too. She wasn’t sure if she could handle Joel after losing another person. His bitterness made this journey much harder, a journey she didn’t choose to be on.

Joel stopped dead in his tracks, and reached his arm out to stop Ellie from proceeding. He slowly raised his gun, and cautiously began walking forward, taking small, quiet steps in order to avoid creating too much noise. He didn’t have much ammo left and he had to make the most of it.

He saw a body laying in the middle of the path, could it be an infected? Or just a dead body? His heart dropped when he noticed it was you; eyes closed, body limp. His mind wandered to the worst possible place.

“Y/N!” He shook you lightly, cautiously, unsure of the situation. Just hopeful that you were okay. He saw your chest rising, indicating you were well alive. He soaked in the view of your face; your parted chapped lips, the delicate crows feet nestled beside your eyes, the dirt that laid on your face - that still looked so soft to him.

. . .

Your peaceful slumber was broken as your body was gently shook. You bolted up - defencive being the first thing you felt anytime you woke from sleep. “Y/N, woah girl it’s just me, Joel” his voice cooed, bringing you back to reality as he rubbed your arm.

“Oh, you,” fell out of your lips sarcastically, brushing Joel off as quickly as you could. You didn’t want to feel his touch - you didn’t know how to process his touch. Joel made you want to feel cared for again, maybe.

“I’m just uh- gonna go like 10 feet over there and let you two figure out whatever this is…” Ellie announced, awkwardly making her way over to a nearby tree where she could prop herself against, somewhat comfortably, while being able to protect her back.

You both eyed Ellie as she walked, both knowing she was your responsibility to protect, but also knowing the two of you had to figure out whatever fucked up situation this was.

You began to massage your ankle, wincing in pain. Fuck, what did I do. Joel looked down over you, concern and anger were plastered on his face.

“Why the fuck did you run Y/N? What is wrong with you? I said you couldn’t handle being alone and here I fucking find you… asleep in the middle of a forest… so vulnerable,” he exclaimed, aggressively grabbing your arm to pull you to your feet.

You resisted, but his power was all too much for you to fight against. The weight of yourself bearing on your ankle made it difficult for you to stand. You shrugged your shoulders. You weren’t sure exactly why you ran. Joel’s words made you feel something that you didn’t want to feel. You didn’t want a connection to anyone. You knew this sort of life meant relying on yourself and only yourself, and Joel was making that difficult.

You looked up to meet Joel's brown eyes. His dusted face looked concerned, not angry, for once. “Look, what you said… I'm not used to people saying that kinda shit to me. It’s hard to hear that someone doesn’t want me dead, I usually assume the opposite considering no one really cares about other people in this world,” you muttered out, struggling to keep contact with Joel's gaze.

Your body tensed as you were suddenly pulled into Joel's embrace. It wasn’t necessarily loving, but it felt protective. “Well I do care. I’m not gonna lose you. You may annoy the shit out of me but my world would be too quiet without your bitching,” he whispered into your ear. Sure, the words weren’t romantic or anything, but you knew Joel was being genuine. 

You pushed Joel away, “Okay,” you grunted, sending him a feeble smile through your pursed lips. “I’m gonna need you to tape me up. I fucked up my ankle earlier,” you lamented. 

Joel shook his head, “Of course you did. Here, sit back down,” he glowered. He called over Ellie to assist him and the two managed to tape your ankle making you able to lazily follow behind them as you continued your journey. 

“Where to?” you questioned, not sure what kind of answer you’d receive.

“Bill and Franks,” Joel muttered, waving you over to come closer to him. “Get on my back, you shouldn’t walk on that ankle of yours,” he insisted. You obliged, you’d be crazy to turn down his offer. Your ankle was throbbing and you could use a break considering you still had a few hours of your hike to get through.

As Joel readjusted you on his back your body became quite comfortable. You nuzzled your chin in between his shoulder and neck, embracing his warmth and surprisingly nodding off into a light snooze. 

[usamingif]

How do I get into THE IDOLM@STER?

...is a very frequent question we idolmaster fans get!

I recently got a message from someone asking me if I could make a post answering this question, and I said I would try. I'm very bad at explaining things, but idolmaster is my biggest special interest, and I am always really happy to try to get people into it.

Before we start, I want to remind you that Idolmaster has no localization. All translations are fanmade. Please remember to support translators. I'll leave as many resources as possible. If you have any translators or sites you'd like me to mention, please let me know.

If you're willing to try and get into it, please open the readmore. I wont only be including Cinderella Girls, I'll try to include every branch.

How do I get into THE IDOLMASTER Cinderella Girls?

Alright, I know I said I wouldn't only be including CG, but this is still a deresute gif blog. I know what most of you are here for.

Cinderella Girls is a huge branch. There's 190 idols. I see some people backing out when they realize this, but I don't think that should discourage you! With that many idols, you're guaranteed to find someone for you. And please, just because you think the voiced girls are more worth your time, please check out the unvoiced ones as well.

Alright, but how do you get into it?

There's a lot of Youtube channels that translate different commus from it. From card lines, to memorial commus, to entire events. Simply search "deresute translation" if you'd like. HNKM_days on Twitter also translates most of the events as they come out.

CG's music is great! there's tons of uploads on soundcloud. My soundcloud playlist has about 200-ish songs. You can find a bunch by just searching "idolmaster".

To find more information on a song, search it up on project-imas.

Project-imas is *the* best idolmaster resource I can think of. It's entirely in English, it has every single song, CD, card — anything you can think of. I use it everyday of my life, which might sound sad but I assure you it isn't. Probably.

How do I get into THE IDOLMASTER Million Live?

Sankyuu ML subs on YouTube does a great job at translating mirishita related content! Another personal note I wanna add is that million live has an amazing discography, and full versions of pretty much every song are on Spotify. Even tho the cast is way smaller than Cinderella Girls, there's still a lot to love about the branch. I dont play Mirishita as much as I do some of the other games, but I still consume lots of content from it and it's a lovely branch I definitely recommend you get into. As of writing this post, Mirishita is celebrating it's 6th anniversary! It's a good time to download the game. Remember, you will need a Japanese VPN or Japanese Apple ID to play it. This goes for every imas mobile game.

How do I get into THE IDOLMASTER SideM?

Well, this is where we're gonna have to start getting into the thorny dark side of being an idolmaster fan. SideM is a great branch which I absolutely adore, and all of it's producers are so passionate about it, however.. Bandai Namco has never been kind to it.

This year, it was announced that it's only current running game, THE IDOLM@STER SideM Growing Stars, will be ending it's service. This was extremely sudden, and hard for everyone to handle. This means that there will basically be no way to properly produce the idols. SideM won't fully die, with there being lives and such, but producing the idols is such a big part of this franchise. I don't want to make this post gloomy out of nowhere, I swear. It's just a bit touchy for now.

There's a huuuge translation masterdoc for SideM, if any of the units or characters catch your eye from the project-imas wiki page on SideM, I suggest you search for whatever idols intrigue you most in the doc. As well as the doc, you can search up "#sidemTL" on Twitter for more translations not on the doc. There's so much to love about every unit and idol, I swear it's worth your time! Even tho it's current state might steer you away, I think it's important to still appreciate the branch for what it is. Oh hey, SideM's discography is also on streaming services! Please stream Piece Montee and Secret Ornament.

How do I get into THE IDOLMASTER Shiny Colors?

Here's ones that's been gaining traction! Luckily, it's actually a pretty accessible branch to get into, if you're willing to download the English patch. The gameplay might seem complicated and scary at first, but even that has tons of guides. I think a lot of this post is motivated by my emotions on the franchise, and I'm sorry about that, but I really mean it when I say the writing is incredible.

You can play Shinymas on your web browser here. If you search up "Shiny colors English patch" on google, you can download it using the instructions. If you're still hesitant on playing for whatever reason, you can read episodes recorded in the English patch on YouTube. I'm not exaggerating when I say the writing is amazing.

p.s if you dont care about that then I should let you know there's unlimited free ten pulls when you start the game

How do I get into the original idolmaster games? (765AS + Dearly Stars)

If you specifically want to get into the console games, there's English roms and translations of routes on Youtube, as well. Dearly Stars is currently in a very weird state, tho. You see, the 765AS girls are all in Million Live, and there's a lot of consolemas games they appear in. But for Dearly Stars, there's only one game. Which is, well, Dearly Stars. And 2/3 of the Dearly Stars just.. havent gotten content since?

I think that it's still a game you should check out, tho! There's not a single bad song in it, and even tho 3 idols might seem like an underwhelming number, they're all brilliant and very lovable. As with a good chunk of consolemas games, there's Dearly Stars translations up on YouTube! A really dedicated RyoP posted them all and I am eternally grateful to them for it.

Alright, phew. I wrote half of this at 11 am and procrastinated for a few hours then wrote more at midnight. Remember that project-imas is an insanely good resource and I encourage you to tell me if I should add more things onto this post. 100% of this post was made off the top of my head and based off of my own experience with the games. I want to mention that there's also a channel called "アイマスSUBS" that covers all the branches in terms of translations, and they've got a bunch of those. Have fun, producers!

[kayedium-writes]

Ten Lines Tag

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three or more) then share it. Tag others if you want.

I think I was tagged forever ago by @writingpotato07 and @alonelyturtle before I dropped off the grid, and now @mrsmungus - so thank all three of you for the tags!

Leaving an open tag tonight while I try to catch up!

(And I'm stealing this random number generator idea because it is great, so between 1-41 for the works I have on my AO3!)

Fic 33 - On the Boardwalk

“Or maybe Leia has the both of you wrapped around her finger equally,” Ahsoka quipped as she quickly tore off a chunk of Padmé’s funnel cake and leaped away before she could react. His wife’s eyes went wide, her ears turning red, and he couldn’t resist snickering. No one messes with her food. Ahsoka was as good as dead.

Fic 16 - I Can Explain, I Swear

“Hi…” Ahsoka opened the door looking like death warmed over, the hood of her jacket pulled tightly around her face, her nose slightly red and voice full of congestion. “I feel like garbage.”

Fic 5 - Personal Failings

He had failed her.

Fic 41 - Friends of the Bride & Groom - Chapter 3

“Let me take you home,” he blurted out. Was he always like this, or was it a side effect of all the alcohol he’d dumped into his body? “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re drunk, remember?” He looked around, stumbling a bit. Which was all the answer she needed. “Look, you can’t take me home. You can’t even walk a straight line.” “Then let me get you a taxi,” he offered. It was a more rational idea, probably more so than anything else he suggested. “And I can ride with you. I should probably go home myself.”

Fic 32 - You're My Lobster

“Was that a quote from Friends?” Ahsoka snickered from the other room. “God, you’re corny.”

Fic 31 - Dahlia

“I think… You are so beautiful,” he breathed.

Fic 39 - Are We There Yet?

He was rethinking every idea he ever had. Between his twin children rambling on, Ahsoka’s whining from the trunk, and Padmé’s humming to keep herself content... He was gonna lose it by the time they made it to Florida.

Fic 9 - A Snuggle for Your Scare

“Then we won’t be watching anymore of the… Whatever their names are. Jason Myers, Michael Krueger… Hannibal!” “That was insanely pathetic,” he said with a laugh. “Michael Myers was right there, and you didn’t get that one on your own?”

Fic 12 - Countdown to Forever

“Ani!” She strolled over, running a finger along the picture frame. Of all the photos, he’d used her headshot from her time as president of the student government. Soon, she swore to herself, they would replace it with one of them instead. Something current and much more flattering. “You did not have to do this.”

Fic 20 - Love and Basketball

Somehow, without even hearing where the story was going next, she had a pretty good idea of how it ended. Anakin and his damn ego were going to end them all one day if he didn’t learn how to back away from a challenge. She nodded along as he continued feeding her pointless details about the alleged basketball game, drawing diagrams in the air like she could follow anything he was talking about. 

[gallaghersgal]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐜𝟏: 𝐊𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚

Kapsoura (Καψούρα) - noun - Crush, infatuation; intense passion; the heady romantic feelings at the start of a relationship

Pairing: professor!matt x gn!reader

Summary: You have a crush on your attractive, young ethics professor. Sometimes you feel like he feels the same.

Warnings: age gap (reader is of age), eventual smut, teacher/student relationship (consensual), slow burn, matty being adorable 🥰

A/N: moodboard by me :) extremely self indulgent professor au. matty has no super sense bc i just didnt feel like working that into the plot lmao- thank you to @drownedpoetess for beta'ing!! i put my soul into this fic yall im so excited to hand it off :))) enjoy !!

Wordcount: 2.9k

xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx

Most students regret picking an 8am lecture, but not you. The Senior Interdisciplinary Ethics Seminar is a class you had been looking forward to ever since you were thrown into Introduction to Ethics as an elective your first year. You had all but begged your counselor to give you the class- it was a graduation requirement for Law and some other degrees, so as a Cinema and Television Arts major you hadn't exactly been at the top of the roster to get it. But you loved ethics, and by some act of god you got the class. You loved it from the first day. The content was deep and engaging, you didn't mind the hours, and the new professor was a major upgrade from the previous one.

Professor Murdock.

Young, witty, always there to lend a hand with a smile and a wise truth. His lectures captivate you- and not just because he is attractive. Although… that was definitely a factor. The way his hair sticks up at odd angles some mornings as he rushes in a minute before class with coffee in hand, the way his button ups stretch over his chest as he removes his blazer, the way he encourages your engagement in class discussions with a grin. All of it adds to this little schoolyard crush. A man some ten years older and infinitely more experienced than you, Professor Murdock is a force to be reckoned with. He is passionate about the subject, kind when you ask for help, knowledgeable when you need advice.

A crush. Like a little kid, getting butterflies in their stomach. That was all this was. A crush. But sometimes- sometimes you swear Professor Murdock notices you in the same way you notice him. 

The sound of your name being called pulls you out of your little daydream and you see Professor Murdock leaning over your desk. "You've been awfully quiet today," he murmurs, "is everything alright?"

You see your reflection in his red tinted glasses, and past that his hazy brown eyes. "Yeah, I'm alright," you reply, breath catching as his hand brushes yours before reaching out to pat your shoulder. He almost lingers- almost- but seems to think better of it, pulling away and returning to his lecture.

"So, the moral desert. Who remembers what that is?" He leans on his desk, cane in hand, and waits for a response.

"The idea that if you're a good person, you deserve good things in return," you answer once the silence goes on for a little too long.

Professor Murdock grins, "good! Good, thank you. And what's the problem with that line of thinking?" Once again, the class is silent. "Come on guys I know it's early but you know this. So what's wrong with this reasoning. Anyone?" He pauses, waiting for someone to speak up, then calls your name.

"Your intentions aren't right. And after a while you're gonna get tired of it. The moral life isn't always easy."

"Yes, exactly… And it looks like that's time for today- Remember, I want your ideas for your ethical representation in media project submitted to me by the end of Monday's class please." Professor Murdock's voice is drowned out by the scraping of chairs as the class begins to dismiss itself. "If you want help solidifying your idea and the piece of media you want to examine will be offering a group study session of sorts, to brainstorm ideas and run them past me. I have faith in you guys, I can’t wait to see what you find. Enjoy your… weekend." He sighs, the room falling quiet once the students have filed out. He mutters something to himself, removing his glasses and leaning over his desk. His fingers search the clutter on his desk, until they clasp around his coffee cup. You get the feeling he believes he's alone.

"Professor Murdock?" you ask quietly.

He turns calmly, a hand running through his hair. Your name falls sweetly from his lips, "did you need something?" he asks after a moment's silence, and you flush, stumbling over your words.

"I- uh- I wanted to ask about the study session?"

His features light up, "of course! I'd love to have you. I'll be sending out an email later in the day with all the information you'll need, but it's gonna be out in the courtyard next to Belk."

"Oh, that's great- Belk is right next to my dorm. I'll see you then!" You turn to leave but he calls out after you one more time. "Yeah?" you reply.

There's a pause, his lips forming around words he wants to say but can't quite get out. "Thank you. For always participating in class- it helps a lot."

"Of course Professor Murdock," you respond. "I love your lectures, really."

He chuckles, "you don't know how much that means to me. I'm always trying to connect- to engage with my students- and it's hard sometimes. You make me feel like I haven't failed at that."

You're taken aback by this new information- Professor Murdock is one of the most engaging teachers you've had in all four years here. "Trust me, you're not failing," you reassure him.

His lips quirk up in a smile, and your stomach fills with butterflies. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."

xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx

You arrive at the courtyard ten minutes early to find Professor Murdock struggling to carry two coffees and tip tap his cane up the stairs at the same time. You call out to him and watch as he flushes a bit red with embarrassment. "Hey," he says with a chuckle. "You're early."

"Please, let me help you." You take the drinks from his hands, allowing him to find his own way up the little concrete steps that lead into the courtyard. Your eyes linger on his, his shirt tight over the expanse of his shoulders, jeans hugging the curve of his ass. When he turns around you feel like you've been caught and are thankful he can't actually see you staring.

"One of those is for you," he gestures vaguely to the coffee. "I don't want to play favorites but you were the only one who confirmed they'd be here… I figured I might as well make it worth your while."

You look at the cups in your hands and recognize one as your tried and true order, perfect down to the extra caramel. "How did you-"

He smiles. "I'm perceptive." There's something in the way his lips quirk upwards, the way he's absolutely still, almost staring at you. It's quiet. It's nice. "Come, sit down." He taps his cane against the nearest chair as two more students arrive.

Professor Murdock stays standing as your classmates begin to join you, seven total. He takes the time to hear out each of your project ideas, circling around the group until he comes to you.

"Let's hear it," he says with a smile. He leans against the table, towering over you a bit.

You aren't sure why you're nervous. Your heart is beating a little too fast for your liking, worried he might shoot down the idea you've become so excited about. You take a quiet breath to still yourself. "I was thinking I would do my presentation on the Ethics discussed in The Good Place," you tell him. "I know it's a pretty obvious answer but the show has a special place in my heart- I want to go deeper than the surface level, I want to take a look at the ethics that are shown rather than taught."

Above you Professor Murdock nods, contemplative. "You're a film major, right?"

"Yes sir," you respond, and you swear you see a gentle red creep onto his cheeks. "Cinema and Television Arts."

"Good, good. What area are you most interested in?"

"I'm honestly not sure, even after four years of doing it every aspect is still so captivating to me-" you try not to talk too fast as your excitement bubbles up in your throat. "It's just- it's all so important to the process."

You wait for his verdict.

"Under normal circumstances I'm not sure I would allow it, it seems like a bit of an easy out-" your heart drops- "but, I really think a student as thoughtful and engaged as yourself could really dive into the material and find the hidden gems."

You breathe a sigh of relief, "thank you so much- I promise I'll do it justice."

"I know you will," he says with a kind smile. "You're passionate about this, I can hear it in your voice. You'll do well." He reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder. His thumb brushes the bare skin revealed by your loose collar and you shiver, praying to any god listening that he didn't pick up on that. "I know you'll make me proud."

You stay until the afternoon begins to dissolve into the evening, the sun casting a golden glow on the brick walls around you. Professor Murdock runs his fingers over his wristwatch and straightens, clapping his hands once to get everyone's attention. "Thank you guys so much for your hard work today, I loved hearing all of your ideas. Now go, enjoy your Saturday evening!"

You push your chair in, slowly gathering your things and packing them into your bag. When the others have left you turned to Professor Murdock. "Thank you for having this, it was really helpful," you say. "And, thank you for the coffee."

"Of course, I hope I didn't take up too much of your Saturday. There's still plenty of time for partying and whatnot-"

You cut him off with a genuine laugh, "No, no," you say, "don't worry. That's not really my scene."

He raises an eyebrow, "no?"

"What, didn't peg me as the quiet type?" you tease, feeling exhilarated.

"No, I didn't," Professor Murdock responds with one of those genuine, brilliant smiles of his. "You're so outspoken in class, I figured you'd be the life of the party."

"I can be when I want to be- but not today. My only plans are to grab some of the grilled chicken from the dining hall and head home to watch netflix in the dark," you tell him with a good natured chuckle.

His features lift at your words, "oh, I love the chicken. Care if I join you for dinner? I'd like to continue our conversation from before."

You feel your face flush. Moments like this are the ones that really make you wonder, is it basic kindness or something more? "I'd love that," you respond. "I'll take any reason to talk about film."

You get your food in to-go boxes and take the back stairs out to the outdoor seating. "Could you help me," Professor Murdock asks in the stairwell. "Up the stairs is one thing but down the stairs is another- especially when I can't hold on to anything," he raises the box in his hand.

You come to his side, looping your arm in his so he can put away his cane. He's so close to you, the smell of cologne and old books and musk filling your nose. His hand is warm where it holds on to your arm and you hope your heartbeat isn't as loud as it sounds in your own ears.

You lead him out to a table in the corner, noting how he doesn’t let go of your arm until he bumps into the chair, laughing softly. "Sorry-" you squeak out but he shakes his head, sitting down.

"Don't worry about it." You take a seat across from him, your eyes lingering momentarily as he licks his lips hungrily. "So, you were telling me about the aspects of filmmaking?"

"Yeah, yeah." You smile. "It's just so interesting to me, it's all one big collaborative process you know? Someone has an idea, and a writer takes that and turns it into a script, and that script goes into the hands of a director, and into the hands of the actors. They all put a piece of themselves into it." You pause, taking a bite of your chicken. A glance at Professor Murdock reveals he's listening intently. "Same goes for composers, editors, cinematographers- they all have a hand in it. All these people, they put their soul into the piece."

"Like art," he supplies.

"Like art," you parrot. "But even then, it's more than that. It's almost like it's- like it's alive. A living, breathing thing that's been touched by all these people, leaving their mark behind when they go."

Professor Murdock smiles, "I never thought of it like that..."

"Yeah! and then what really gets me is that- ultimately- they give it away, you know you can spend weeks, months, years, on a project and then you just hand it off to the viewer. And just like that it's out of your hands and into theirs. They decide what happens to it. It's terrifying and exhilarating- I love it."

He hums, "the film program here, you take your work to a festival in the spring right?"

"Yeah! I've worked on some of the projects- done some directing, acted a bit-"

"You act?" he asks, and the genuine curiosity in his voice makes your stomach twist with excitement and a bit of guilt. You should feel wrong for this, but there's just something about him.

"I used to do it a lot more, local theatre and stuff." You think fondly of the many productions you had been a part of back home. "I still do it sometimes just… not as much."

"And do you miss it?"

God, his questions are endless. But instead of it being an annoyance it just makes your heart melt even more. It's the gentle curiosity in his voice, the way he nods along, asks questions- he's really listening.

"A little… It's different though, with screen acting. I think I prefer the stage, and I prefer being behind the camera to being in front of it." You take a bite of your food, realizing you've barely touched it. You fight the urge to apologize for talking Professor Murdock's ear off.

"Ah," he leans back in his chair, the fading sunlight casting him in a warm glow and catching on his glasses. "More of a director?"

"Directing, writing," you muse. "I really do love it all. That's why I'm getting a theatre arts minor. It's a good pairing, opens up a lot of opportunities for me after I graduate." The dream was Hollywood, but you weren't quite sure you were ready for it. The east coast was your lifelong home. 

"What are your plans for after graduation?" 

"New York city," you reply. "Small time film productions, maybe some off broadway work. I'm actually taking a playwriting class right now, it really helped me to develop my script writing skills- to the point that I wrote the script for this year's main entry into the film festival."

"Oh, wow- multi-talented, I see." His grin is infectious. "I'm sorry for asking so many questions, but my curiosity gets the best of me. What's someone studying Cinema, Television and Theatre arts doing in an ethics class? I mean- you're clearly passionate about it, I can tell by our discussions in class. Is it just another one of your many, wonderful passions?"

You feel your heart quicken at his question but don't get the chance to answer as an automated voice rings from his phone, "Foggy. Foggy. Foggy. Foggy." Professor Murdock digs his phone out of his pocket, managing an apology as he fumbles to answer the call.

"Foggy, hey- yeah I'm at the dining hall. Hayes. Alright- alright buddy-" he laughs at something his friend says- "No problem. Bye." He ends the call and pushes his chair back, "I guess that's my cue."

You stand too, "you sure you'll make it home alright?" you ask.

He laughs, not condescending or offended, but friendly. "Thank you, but I'll be fine. That was my friend, he drives me home in the evenings."

"Oh," suddenly you feel ashamed for talking so long, it's nearly dark now. "Professor Murdock, I'm sorry if I kept you-"

"No need, I enjoyed our conversation." He reaches and you place your hand in his, a bit calloused but surprisingly warm. His other hand covers yours, cane tucked under his arm, "and please, call me Matt." Your face flushes and you trip over your words, but your good natured professor just gives you a kind smile.

A car pulls up in front of the dining hall, saving you from embarrassment. The passenger side window is rolled down and a man calls out, "hey, Matt! Come on, karaoke at Josie's!"

You giggle, "karaoke?"

"Maybe I'm multi-talented too." He drops your hand and immediately you miss the warmth it had provided. "Goodnight," he says with a smile, turning on his heel and calling out an exasperated "I'm coming, I'm coming," to his friend.

On the way back to your dorm you find a childlike spring in your step. It's all you can do not to squeal in delight as you fall into bed and pull out your phone to spill the gossip to your roommate.

And when you close your eyes you see him. That smile. You can't get it out of your head.

End.

@foxe @mushroomlupin @daremartyevil @letskeepthislo-ki @mothdruid @deadangeluniverse​ @anothersworld​

[tteokbokkei]

𝘏𝘢𝘪𝘬𝘺𝘶𝘶 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘉𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘢𝘺

pairings - akaashi, iwaizumi x gn!reader

warnings - swearing, reader gets called clingy, small amounts of arguing, hurt comfort ofc

AKAASHI

Chances are he got to engrossed in work because it’s not like akaashi to forget something like this

Really, he remembers almost everything when it comes to you so when you were still sat alone at 10pm on your birthday, you began to worry something had happened to him

There was no dinner ready and you hadn’t dressed up yet, thinking Keiji would come home and tell you what you were doing

Yet you found yourself ringing his phone for the 5th time that night, this time he answered

“What y/n I’m really busy?” His tone led you to believe he wasn’t in the best mood

You asked him when he would be home and that seemed to set him off

“I told you i had to do things today okay, I won’t be home until later I don’t get why you have to know what I’m doing all the time. Think about me for once”

And with that you hung up, it was obvious what had happened.

Keiji felt guilty yeah, but he did need to work and he knew that he could just apologise when he got home. Sure, it wasn’t like you to just hang up but he figured you were also tired from the long week and left it at that. It wasn’t until he opened his messages he felt his blood freeze.

There, screaming at him from the screen of his phone, was a text from bokuto that read ‘hey, y/n isn’t picking up could you say happy birthday for me man?’

He had to get home.

-

By the time the black haired man had arrived back home, he was soaked from the rain and biting at his nails nervously. The lights in the house were all off and he just hoped to god that you were still inside the house. Even though it would be perfectly within your right to not be.

The living room held a silence that he had never quite hated as much as he did now. The pile of openers cards from your friends seemed to taunt him from the coffee table. How had even atsumu remembered and he hadn’t? He was your boyfriend. He hoped he would still be when he finally found you. You were curled up on your side in your bedroom. Obviously not asleep but not showing any signs of acknowledgment either. Guilt tugged at his stomach.

“Y/n” he started, trailing off

What was he supposed to say to you? ‘Hey sorry I forgot your birthday and called you selfish’. Yeah, great going Keiji.

“Y/n I’m really sorry and I know that probably won’t make it better and I can’t take back what I said to you.” He drew in a shaky breath, “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to forget about you I’ve just been working so hard and-“

A sob cut him off. His soft hand on your shoulder broke your resolve and you allowed him to turn you around.

“Just,” you sobbed, “please don’t do it again Keiji, all I do is think about you”

He wrapped his arms around your shaking form, pulling you into his embrace.

“I know, I should’ve been thinking more about you. I’m so sorry sweetheart, I promise I’ll make it up to you tomorrow”

IWAIZUMI

Hajime had always been a pretty busy person, this was evident ever since you started dating

Now it was his final year though, you had never seen him more stressed

So, you decided to show up to one of his practices on your birthday, for the past 2 years he had always left early or at least with you when it was a special date

And it was your birthday but that didn’t mean you couldn’t treat him too and you know how hard he had been working, so you made a bento

The moment you walked in to the gym it was like everyone but him lit up, the third years came over to say hi and even Kyoutani sent you a quick nod

You tapped your boyfriend on the shoulder and when he didn’t reply you went for a hug, only for him to move at the last minute

“Why are you here y/n?” He asked coldly

You explained to him that you wanted to come see him like always, not mentioning your birthday in case it was a joke, he wasn’t laughing

“A little clingy don’t you think? You text me all day and now you come and interrupt practice? Why are you so needy today damn?”

You just turned and walked out, hoping nobody had heard your conversation

“Hey Iwa aren’t you gonna leave early?” Matsukawa asked him at the end of practice.

“No, why?” He had calmed down significantly now and had forgotten what he said to you

“Uh… cause it’s y/n’s birthday?” Makki called from behind the net, “you do it every year, right?”

Iwa dragged his hands down his face. He had been too stressed to even remember what day it was let alone your birthday. And now he had forgotten you completely after making those comments.

“Why would they want to?” Kyoutani growled up from his sweeping, “after what you said to them”

A dozen pairs of eyes seemed to bore into his soul. Guilt had stolen his breath and his head was spinning but he knew he had to go and fix this before it was too late.

-

You were sat on the cold step of your house, sobbing into the sleeves of one of your boyfriends jumpers. You should probably give that back. If your conversation earlier was anything to go by then he wouldn’t be keeping you around much longer. Staring at the fabric, now stained with your tears, you thought about what he said. Maybe you were clingy.

“Y/n!”

You looked up to see a very out of breath Iwaizumi runnning towards you, face flushed

Looking down, you grumbled a quick ‘what?’. You were hurt and the balloons attached to your bag were smacking against the side of your house as if taunting you.

“You know Iwaizumi” he flinched at the use of his last name, “if you wanted to break up, you could at least have the decency not to do it on my birthday”

“No y/n, I would never- I don’t want to break up” he cried, words were failing but he carried on, “I’ve been so stressed looking after the team and Oikawa with his knee I just forgot”

When your eyes met it felt like his heart had broken in two. Your eyes were glistening with unshed tears and you had obvious tear tracks down your face. A nod let him know it was okay to carry on.

“Please, I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to forget, can we try again tomorrow? I’d never hurt you on purpose”

Tears began running down your cheeks again.

You nodded and the man pulled you in for a kiss, not caring about the taste of your salty tears. Murmuring ‘I love you’ against your lips, he pulled you in as close as he could to you. Like he would never let you go.

It might not have been the best birthday but you were content knowing he would always try his best to make up for the things he does.

reblogs are appreciated! and i'm a new blog so any asks and follows are extra cool!!!

[ceciiibaby]

A Morning to Remember (18+) Part 2

Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for all of the love and support that you have shown to Part 1 of this story!!!! I love this community so much and I am incredibly excited to keep adding on to this series while we wait for more Fezco content 😓 As always, if any of you lovely human beings have any suggestions for a potential story or even just general feedback, please do not hesitate to let me know. I utterly hope you enjoy this filth 😌

Warnings: Smut on top of smut, passionate and loving Fezco, mentions of praise kinks, swearing, and fluff towards the end

"Oh fuck baby. Your fingers feel so good." As (Y/N) feels her eyes gradually begin to roll towards the back of her head, she can't help but think about all of the times that Fezco has made her feel this way. It would probably come as as surprise to some, given the young man's distant and unapproachable demeanor, but Fez has always cared about the feelings of others. Years ago, when Ashtray came home from his first day of school in tears, the only thing that Fez wanted to do was make him happy. He wanted the tears to stop as quickly as they had started. And he never wanted to see them flow down his little brother's face again. That, to him, is the true definition of love. "How the fuck am I supposed to love somebody and not do what I gotta do for 'em?" These are the words that he told (Y/N) the first time she asked him why he cared so much about taking care of her. Before meeting Fezco, (Y/N) could not remember the last time that someone in her life had gone out of their way to do anything for her. After her parents decided to get a divorce when she was just 10 years old, (Y/N) quickly learned how to set her thoughts and opinions aside for the sake of her family. She never wanted to upset anyone or make them feel worse than she knew they already did. The silence became her comfort zone, and that is where her Fezzy had found her, all those years ago.

It was not easy, in the beginning, for (Y/N) to let her boyfriend do so many things for her. But there was no limit to his kindness, and he wanted her to see this. As their relationship progressed and the lovers began to do what all teenagers in love inevitably do, (Y/N) was pleasantly surprised to discover just how much her man wanted to please her. Fez would never hesitate to spend hours with his tongue between her legs, showing her in seconds the things that he could not say. This was his home away from home, and as he tasted her sweetness and felt the way her body responded to him, Fezco knew that he would never get enough of this paradise that only he would ever know about.

For (Y/N), the feeling was much deeper than the orgasms. The physical release that he gave her body was wonderful, and she always went to sleep feeling like she was on cloud nine, but the strongest effects of their lovemaking were felt in her brain. Fezco knew her body, but he also knew her mind. He knew how much it aroused her to have his undivided attention. And he knew that after being considered a second thought for a majority of her life, (Y/N) was dying to be a priority. She would never verbally say this to him, out of fear that she would sound selfish, but Fezco could see how much she wanted to be admired. His angel was craving some appreciation, and he would not rest until he knew that she was fully satisfied.

"I wanna spend the rest of my life just like this, baby. Feeling all of your sweet juices running down my fingers. Fuck, I wanna taste you so bad, angel." "Fez, if you don't stop talking like that, I'm gonna cum." Fezco can't help how he feels in this moment. He wants her to know how much he loves it when she has an orgasm because of him. "You feel that, mamas." He has his clothed erection pressed into her thigh as he watches her grab the sheets from the bed under them. (Y/N) is certain that she is going to explode once she feels more pressure being applied to her clit. She suddenly feels the heavy weight of Fez's cock against her thigh, and as she knows that she cannot hold her release back any longer. "Open your eyes, beautiful. Let me see your face while you cum all over my fingers. Fuck, baby. How the hell did I get so lucky?" Although this is not the first (or the last) orgasm that has come from Fezco, (Y/N) is overwhelmed by the incredible feeling that courses through her body. "Hey angel. You're okay. Take a deep breath for me. You did so good." (Y/N) is certain that she is going to cum again when she opens her eyes and sees Fez sucking her juices off his fingers. The moans that fall from his lips are enough to give her the energy that she needs to push him down onto the bed. "It's my turn to take care of you now." Fez immediately wraps his arms around her waist and sits against the bed's headboard. "You already have, gorgeous." (Y/N) playfully rolls her eyes at this and rubs her hands down his warm chest. "You know what I mean, smartass." They stare into each other's eyes as they laugh, feeling their love lingering in the air around them. "I know, mamas. But I don't want you thinking about me. I'm good as long as you're good." (Y/N)'s heart swells more than she thought it ever could. She loves this man with every fiber of her being. And she is going to make sure that he knows it.

"Oh fuck, (Y/N). Your pussy feels so good." The sounds that she is making on top of him has Fezco's mind in shambles. Grabbing onto the headboard for stability, (Y/N) can only close her eyes in pleasure as she feels every vein on his cock rubbing the inside of her walls. "Mmmm. Damn, mamas. I'm not gonna be able to hold on much longer. You look too fucking good right now." (Y/N) moans out louder than she intended and Fezco pulls her body against his, smashing his lips against hers. "I got you, angel. Let it all out for me." Fezco places one hand on the small of her back as the other holds her face above his. He feels her walls clenching around his cock, and he knows that she won't last much longer. Looking into her eyes, Fez is positive that he can see his future. This is his person, his one in seven billion. And no one else will ever be enough for him. "I'm gonna cum again, baby. Fuck. I love you." He can't wait any longer. She is truly perfect. "I love you too, baby. So much. Now cum for me, sweetheart. I'm right here with you. Forever."

[sadlysoulx]

Haikyuu characters thinking you want to break up with them

part 1 (Atsumu& Sakusa)

Heyyyoo~ I'm sorry I haven't post in a while school's bad and it managed to get into my nerves without me going to the place itself plus i have now wifi so I have to connect to my dad's data☹️ Thanks for 33 followers😭💖!! Especially to my friend Mocha berry who supported me :)

Would be doing Tsukishima and Ushijima in part 2 ;)

⚠️Warning⚠️: swearing, not proofread

ATSUMU

"I really have enough!" Atsumu banged his fist down the table, making you flinch and take a step backwards.

"You are so fucking dramatic," he pointed at your shivering figure.

"I'm dramatic?" You asked hysterically. "I'm the ones who's dramatic?" You asked again, glaring back at Atsumu. "Open your eyes, 'tsumu! You're the one who made this into a bigger issue!"

"Me?!" Atsumu screamed back, finally making your tears fall down. "Y/N! If you weren't do clingy, this wouldn't happen!"

"Its not my fault that my boyfriend doesn't have time for me!" You fisted your hands.

"And this is fucking why I regretted to ask you to be my s/o!"

You stopped. Brain stopped functioning as you slowly let his words sink in, and to your despair, he didnt stop there.

"If you weren't my s/o, I would have a free life without you whining around like a kid," Atsumu was still shaking from anger.

"I would have the best life without you," he muttered.

More tears flowed down on your face.

"Fine!" You walked out the kitchen and into your shared bedroom, making sure you bang the door open.

You grabbed your bag and began stuffing down your clothes.

You heard loud and fast footsteps and in the corner of your eye, you saw Atsumu standing and peeking in the door, regret filled his eyes.

"Y/N—"

"If your not contented with me," you began as you take another bag and filled it with toiletries. "Then find another s/o, I wouldn't mind,"

You swung your bag over your shoulder and quickly breezed past him out the door.

"Y-Y/N!" 

Tears prick your eye since again as you quickly fumbled with your house keys and shakily tried to shove the the keys into the keyhole.

Atsumu grabbed your arm, trying to pull you to his chest.

"Y/N! Babe—"

"Don't fucking call me Babe!" You turned to him, new fresh batch of angry tears flowing down your cheeks. "Save that for your new s/o!"

You could see Atsumu's eyes turn glassy, his bottom lip trembling.

You successfully unlock the main door and you walked out of your apartment, striding down the hallway and waiting for the elevator.

Atsumu quickly followed you to turn annoyance, sniffles escaping his trembling lips constantly.

You hated seeing him hurt, especially if your the one who cause it. Imagining him with another person left a sour taste in your mouth.

But now that Atsumu said that he wished he wasn't your s/o, you knew that it wouldn't be long for him to find a new someone— if ever the both of you really make things over.

You distracted yourself by looking up the escalating red digital numbers that was labeled up the elevator doors.

In the corner of your eye, you see Atsumu opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to say something but he couldn't. His hands hesitantly trying to reach out for you, his head hung low, tears dripping out of his red eyes pitifully.

The elevator doors finally opened and that's when Atsumu find his courage to talk to you.

"Y-you're really gonna leave me, aren't you?" He whispered softly, only loud enough for you to hear.

You stopped your attempt to walk in the elevator and stare aimlessly somewhere.

His sniffles and hiccups were getting worst. He was obviously trying to stop himself for crying.

You watch as the elevator doors close infront of you.

Turning to him, you saw his huge mascular figure shaking violently and his head still hung low.

"You are, aren't you?" He asked shakily again.

You dropped your bags and threw yourself to him, hugging him tightly.

He finally broke down, loud sobs echoing the empty hallway and hugging you back tightly.

"I'm never gonna leave you, 'Tsumu," You sobbed into his chest. "Never. . . I can't do that, I love you so much,"

"I'm so sorry, baby. . ." Atsumu sobbed into your hair. "Shit. . . I'm so sorry. . . I- I didn't mean what I said, I would never replace you– Fuck! Please forgive me baby. . ."

You let out a watery sob.

"H-hey, it's fine 'Tsumu." You looked up at his slightly swollen and wet but dreamy eyes. "I'm sorry for being dramatic," you giggled slightly.

He wiped your tears.

"It's fine baby," He smiled at you through his teary eyes, pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead. "I love you. . ."

"I love you more,"

He smiled, his eyes suddenly lighten up more.

"Hey, I found a really good movie in Netflix! It's a horror movie, let's watch it together!" He smiled down at you, gripping your hands.

"Okay! Let's watch it tonight!" you smiled up at him.

He smiled wider and cupped your cheeks, leaning down to kiss you.

Sakusa

Sakusa groaned. He stood up straight and made the mop lean towards the wall.

He scanned the living room all sparkling clean. Walking towards the couch, he plopped himself down, sighing in relief.

Sakusa having a bad day is an understatement.

The weather is bad, rainy and muddy outside, making their volleyball practice get cancelled for their own safety. Just today, when he woke up, he found that you weren't around. Sakusa had no idea where you went and it angers him that you didn't let him know. He waited for you and he spent his time cleaning the house and yet it has been an hour since you left.

And he hadn't have his breakfast and it made him more grumpier and more icy than ever.

Sakusa stood up and was about to go to the kitchen to eat on his own when the door opened, revealing you in muddy clothes.

"Hi babe!" You softly chuckled before breaking out in to a harsh and loud cough.

Sakusa flinched at that.

He observed you as you drop the plastic bags filled with what he assumed groceries.

He watched as you slowly walk into the living room, leaving a disgusting trail of wet puddles and mud.

Sakusa clicked his tounge.

"Y/N!" He frowned as you stopped in the middle of the living room, looking up at him. "I just mopped up the floor!"

"Oh, I'm sorry—"

"Save it Y/N. . ." He clicked his tongue in annoyance once more, picking up the mop again. You knew he was mad, and you tried not to worsen the mood more. "Look what you did!"

"Babe. . . I'm really—"

"I said save it!" He raised his voice higher making you shut up. "Where are you from?"

"I went to the grocery—"

"We still had a lot of food!" Sakusa pointed the way to the kitchen, eyebrows deeply furrowed.

"No, there isn't—"

"Shut up okay?!" Sakusa banged the mop on the floor harshly, you flinched. Tears threatened you.

He wasn't always like this and if he ever is, it wouldn't be a pleasant sight.

Sakusa run his hands through hair, tugging it stressfully.

"Go to the bathroom and clean yourself!"

You slowly slumped across the living room in the way to the bath.

"If you want to be part of this household, then make yourself useful. . ."

You turned around just as he finished whispering those words.

"What?"

Sakusa turned to you.

"I said 'If you—'"

You laughed, humorlessly.

"So you're saying I'm not useful?" You voice cracked with sadness.

Sakusa only stared at you with his stoic expression.

"That I'm worthless?" You pointed to yourself.

Sakusa frowned. "I didn't say that—"

"But you're making it sound like that!" You raised your voice, running your hands through your damp hair angrily and in stress.

"You're the one who's making it mean like that!" Sakusa exclaimed, slightly shaking from anger.

"I am your fucking s/o! And you have the audacity to insult me!"

Both of you argued on and on, the clock ticking away, voices getting louder than the last. You don't know when would this end and how.

Both of you were stubborn, both doesn't want to lose from the other.

Until, Sakusa had enough. He swiped the things away from the coffee table, making the fragile things on it shatter loudly, triggering the tears that sat on the edge of your eyes and fall down your cheeks.

"Would you shut it?!" Sakusa's cheeks glowed red.

"You're not telling me what to do!" You shouted back.

"You are so fucking stubborn!" His voice trembled. "You know what? I regretted to be with you!" He screamed shakily, pointing at your smaller figure.

Tears flowed down your cheeks more. You stepped up to him, you didn't care if you're still damp with rain.

"And you know what? I did too," you spat the words with venom and you saw Sakusa softened, guilt immediately swan in his eyes.

You immediately walked to the main door and Sakusa immediately followed, trying to string his sentence but it all ended up with a stutter mess.

"Y/N!" He called as you banged the main door close, you walked out the glass doors and you were immediately met with heavy rain pouring down your back harshly.

You didn't know where to go and you panicked when you hear Sakusa running to you from behind.

"Y/N!"

You tried to run away but he gripped your wrist, making you turn to him.

"Y/N. . . Please. . . please. . ." He grabbed your hands and clasped his huge hands around yours, looking at you with pleading eyes. "I didn't mean—"

You sobbed.

"Maybe it's better if you find someone new. . ." You tried to pry your hands away from his, in which you successfully did due to him staring at you in shock.

"What? No! I won't replace you!" He shook his head, making his now curly hair sway along with him.

He paused, guilt swimming at the pit of his stomach and his lungs, making it hard to think and breath.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

You looked up at him and you immediately spoke.

"I—"

"No,no,no,no," he chanted, tears swelling his own eyes. He held your hand as he let out a sob that he tried to keep in.

He knelt down still clasping your hands, looking up at you. Sakusa broke down, sniffles, hiccups and sobs escaping his trembling lips.

"No,no,no, please don't break up with me," he cried.

You cried with him as you knelt down beside your lovely boyfriend.

"Please don't, Y/N. . . I- I can do anything! Just forgive and stay with me—"

You peck his lips, making him shut up.

"I won't break up with you, silly boy," you went to his chest as he hugged you right, both of you crying hard and not really caring of you're out in the rain.

"I'm sorry," you sobbed.

"I'm sorry too," he sobbed back.

You pulled back and wiped his tears, and he did the same, which was useless since the rain was still drenching you both.

"Let's dance in the rain?" you wiggled your eyebrows at him as you let out a distorted laugh since your throat is still sore.

"That only happened in cringy romantic movies," he let out a watery laugh of his own.

Nevertheless, you both stood back on your feet and danced in the rain.

Whew! That was a trip, my finger really said ✨No✨ when I wanted to make another angst for an another character.

Thanks for reading this blog and likes and reblogs are appreciated ;)

I hope my likes won't go down for not posting in a while :(

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