#i swear this was supposed to be a two sentences long post

[spotforme]

i am actually in love with Cat and Lister's friendship or whatever the hell it is they've got because they're so different in style and philosophy but together they belong. i am thinking about btl spesifically, that's a place where they can have anything and they choose to fuck around together, drive places on Lister's motorcycle and judge eachothers' eating habbits. it is so much fun.

like of course there is the way the present themselves, Lister with his often sloppy, dirty, worn out clothes and biker rolling through a ditch austethic and Cat with his never-wearing-the-same-thing-twise, outfit colours and styles fluxuate through the seasons' trends and often to multiple a day. like i can't believe they really get what the other's going for but they don't really say much on the subject

then there are their views on dramatic topics like death, crippling injury and the like. it's hard for me to describe them exactly, but the Cat has an attetude adjasent to 'if you can't do anything about it without getting your hair messy, then dont' like i feel he'd much rather spend time sewing a new dashing outfit than mourn because what good is feeling bad gonna do now really. whereas Lister very much needs to get his emotions out there, be it crying at a romantic movie, missing a friend or displacing an arm amd wanting some reassurance. like Lister is emotionally intelligent as fuck sometimes, and lonely when he doesn't have anything to pour his affection to, and it feels a bit cruel sometimes that he was placed on that ship with only emotional garbage (sorry to Rimmer and Cat. i love them both but they have their moments of absolute dogwater insensitivity) and maschines.

so they don't always mix well, Lister and Cat, but they still do because there's enough mutual likes and mutual hates. there is that they're the only people left who they can still touch that isn't just cold old metal or plastic, i'm just saying an arm to grip every once in a while goes a long way to keeping oneself sane. they are nice to eachother, they are scoundrals together, they share schemes they share crimes, sometimes they even share a braincell. they're like the only thing in the universe they have to a normal friendship and i am so not normal about them.

like when Cat steals a shampagme bottle and shares it with Lister, like when Lister lets Cat take naps in his bed, how they share snide and embarrasing remarks at Rimmer's expence, the way they pair together on missions and (barring Guarantine) they don't hate eachother after decades of occupying the same space, they're still being dumb and bitchy together. everyone else has left, been changed into another version, or both but these two have both been through all of it. they're such unlikely friends but they're the best. sence the first moment they met and Lister decided he's keeping the Cat and Cat somewhere along decided that it's fun to hang around and that he's keeping Lister too, they've got such a bond i don't know what is going on with them. they make an odd couple of weirdos that i'm obsessed with

[thespeakinglingering]

Ironically, the concept of Communism that has been taught to me from an objective perspective is one that would be a brilliant system in a world in which all of its occupants are, in essence, intense, pure beings with either no free will or no will to do any against the Natural Law. For this to be the case, they must also possess a complete and unfaltering understanding of what is intended from the universe and (from my Catholic perspective) by God's instillation of a conscience (which is a very niche conversation, one that I'll probably post upon in the future. Basically, what you must know before you attempt to say that God intending this is malarkey at best, is that God must, through, again, very niche logic, have and contain a sense of understanding of His creation so much deeper and more wise than imaginable from our small perspective on the ground of logic rules; an understanding capable of bringing greater good out of disorder of His rules, rules that he can't, from our perspective, break, despite miracles existence, uh, existing lol). After all of this, you may wonder, 'what beings are these that may function in Communism flawlessly?', and the only logical answer is unreasonable and impossible ones, for true free will and true pure courses of action BY those that have free will are contradictory in nature, as there is a shadow to the light, a cold to the heat, an absence to the space—there will always be or have been a choice to absent oneself from objective goodness, as that is what free will entails.

So my conclusion is that, provided the following premises are held to be true...: The prerequisites for Communism to be feasible are that its civilians possess both perfect nature and perfect understanding in a land of true free will; For there to be true free will, one must be allowed to choose a wrong path; For one and one's kin to be perfect and pure in nature, there cannot be any of those in said community of kin who make a wrong choice; When there is free will, it is likely there will be those who make a wrong choice; …Therefore, it is likely that the residents of a Communist nation will make a wrong choice, leading to the ineffectiveness of the Communist culture by its very nature that states that its citizens must abide by pure and perfect choice.

[hikarry]

I'm not really on the team that swears to Jesus and beyond that Crowley lost his memories after the Fall. Yes, of course, he forgot some stuff because, ya know, he has been alive for more than 6000 years and if I don't remember what I ate for lunch yesterday, Satan knows he won't remember every single second of his life, but he remembers the important things

"Ah, but what about him not remembering fighting alongside FurFur or building the thingy with Saraqael?"

Love, I give you two options:

Those are either some of the stuff he didn't consider important enough to remember OR he is just straight up fucking with them. He does remember, but why reveal it if playing dumb sometimes is good in the long run? Might be useful

Alas, I don't know, but I will die on the hill that he does remember

Which means he most probably remembers meeting Aziraphale. Not because Aziraphale was "important" at the time per se, or because it was love at first sight (because it wasnt, not for him. Bro was so focused on the nebula he didnt even introduce himself when Aziraphale did. He threw him a "Right. Nice to meet ya. Anyway, nebula time!"), but because he was there when Crowley created the nebula and, as he said, he had been waiting for that moment since "well, always". It's an important moment for him, so he remembers. Aziraphale just so happened to be present

I don't know if that was the only interaction they had in Heaven or not (and that's not the point I'm trying to get to so I will ignore that problem for a later post, maybe), but when the now Demon Crawley was sent up to the Garden, he did remember Aziraphale. That's why he approached him

Cmon, Crowley isn't stupid. Of course he wouldn't approach an angel on the wall just willy nilly and make conversation. He didn't know Aziraphale had given away the flaming sword yet. Just approaching an angel from behind and morph into a demon next to him out of nowhere could be a death sentence. Or at least an A Line for a good smitting

Yet, he did it. He had at least 3 other angels to choose from but he approached the angel that he remembered from back in the beginning that was kind enough to help him with the engine of the nebula. Hell! I even bet this was not the first time they saw each other in the Garden!

Bet they've seen and observed each other from afar a few times while they interacted with the humans (yes, cause I believe Crawley, before tempting Eve, tried to gain her trust. It's easier to listen to a friend than a random snake) or just around the Garden really.

That's why Aziraphale didn't get surprised when Crawley showed up at the wall, because he knew the demon snake had been around the Garden for a while. He probably even recognized him as the former Star Maker and hoped he was still a little bit of his old self so he allowed himself to engage in conversation

Anyhow, another clue? This:

He remembers how Heaven works. He remembers he was a high ranking angel. Satan, he remembers the bloody passwords!

Do you know what else he remembers?

Cause they didn't throw that line in there for nothing. No, gents. Cmon. Nothing is random in Good Omens

He knows who he was. He remembers being the Star Maker that hung the stars in the sky

He remembers why he fell, for goodness sake

And the fact that he remembers everything makes all of it so much more tragic, doesn't it? He remembers his life before the Fall, his supposed friends that dragged him into the pit with them, what Her love felt like, the "mistakes" he made that led to his Fall

And it must have hurt. It must have hurt so much when he found himself in a pit of boiling sulfur with his wings completely burned and without Her love because he remembered it all. He must have been so bloody confused for so long

He might have regretted it. All the questions and the company he kept that made him Fall. But he doesn't anymore.

He knows he doesn't need Heaven, he doesn't need Hell. They are toxic. All he needs is his pacific fragile existence on Earth with Aziraphale and yet...well, that's something else he won't forget now, is it?

*clears throat*

I rest my case

[alphabetboyluvr]

PALLADIUM - MYG

title credit: palladium- greyson chance

pairing: dilf!yoongi x reader // friends to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut

synopsis:

min yoongi is urgent.  in the way he bites his nails down to the bed, and the way his sore fingers type out desperate sentences just minutes before deadlines, he is urgent. how he prepares jaehyun’s day bag before grandma comes by, and how he double checks everything is packed, he is urgent.  the requests for you to watch over jaehyun each and every deadline day are, always, predictably, urgent. but the way min yoongi falls in love with you is slow. gradual. tepid. until, like everything with min yoongi, it becomes urgent.  

wordcount: 3.2K

note from holly: this was a prompt from a winner of one of my kofi quizzes! was supposed to be a drabble but now we are looking at a lil three parter. no smut in this part, just setting up our dynamics <3 yoongi is a boy dad! idc! argue with the wall!!!!

PART TWO // PART THREE

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent," Yoongi pleads across the bakery counter. Nails bitten down to the bed, he's got bags underneath his eyes. Hasn't been sleeping well these days. Hasn't really been sleeping at all.

"I told you last time—"

"I know, I know," he sighs, pushing off of the countertop and pacing a few steps away, raking a stressed palm through his long, dark hair. Dishevelled, he hasn't had it cut in a while. You'll never tell him, but you think it looks better this way. "Look, it's the last time. I promise. I just really fucked it this time."

With a raised brow, you fold your arms over your chest. The apron beneath you bunches a little awkwardly, but you've never cared much for composure around Yoongi. Have simply known him too long and seen him through too many clumsy stages of life to be bothered. 

Tipping your head back, you exhale a sharp breath from the very depths of your lungs. 

"You are so lucky Jaehyun is an angel baby," you eventually say, shaking your head as you reluctantly agree. "What time do you need me?"

"Deadline is at midnight," Yoongi says, "So whenever you can get to mine, really. Mum has him till seven, but then she's got Bitch'n'Stitch—"

"Hey," you scold. "My mum goes to that knitting group, too."

"I'm not calling her a bitch—but I've heard their conversations," Yoongi reminds you. He swears they don't actually do any knitting (as if they haven't handmade half of Jaehyun's closet). Thinks they spend the entire time gossiping. And while yes, they do do a lot of gossiping, they can multitask. Unlike him, apparently. "But fine. She has her knitting group at seven."

Yoongi will never simply call it a knitting group, if he can help it. 

Bitch'n'Stitch is his go-to, but he's also partial to Stitching Hour. 

Last week, you'd just gone on a rant about how it's inappropriate to insinuate that all women of a certain age from your small town are witches—"Women used to get burned at the stake, Yoongi. Burned!"—so he knows better than to say it out loud today, even if it makes him laugh whenever he thinks about them knitting on broomsticks.

"I'll probably be outta here at just gone six," you tell him. 

It's the late shift, so you're responsible for closing and cleaning up, but after two years of part-time work alongside your studies, you're a dab hand. Can action off every item on the to-do list in record time, and to a standard even your boss can't achieve. 

You're wasted on a small town like this, but someone's gotta do it. 

"That's fine," Yoongi nods. "I just need to straighten this essay out and get my citations done. You can go as soon as I'm finished—and hey, you can order takeout. I'll pay."

Knowing Yoongi, he's probably surviving on instant noodles, and spending all of his money on Red Bull and Jaehyun's meticulously planned diet. 

Jaehyun's been off formula for about two months, now, and Yoongi is terrified of feeding him the wrong thing. By the looks of his slightly skinnier-than-usual frame, he's the one in need of a good meal.

And so, as you're doing your final tasks of the day, you don't bin the breads that need to be chucked. Instead, you bag them up. All of them. The pastries, too. Will just have to hope Yoongi has freezer space.

By the time you make it home, you've only got ten minutes to spare for a quick shower before you need to rush to Yoongi's. You'll be a little after seven, but it's fine. You've resigned yourself to staying at Yoongi's until midnight, now. 

It's how it usually goes. 

He'll work up until his deadline, rewriting and revising paragraphs that are perfectly fine and need no alterations. His own worst critic, you know that he really doesn't need to stress himself out like this.

Still, he does. You think he'll always be this way—at least, he was in high school, and he remains to be this way, even in university. Too much of a habit has been formed. It's ingrained in the ridges of his brain. Pink and permanent—just like the pout on his lips as he opens his apartment door for you later that evening.

Forearm tucked under Jaehyun's pudgy thighs, Yoongi cradles his son into his side, as a look of relief relaxes onto his face. It's a stark reminder of why Yoongi stresses himself out so much. 

You can afford to make mistakes. The only person you have to answer to is yourself.

Yoongi doesn't have that luxury anymore. Hasn't done for a while, now. Won't ever get it again—or at least, not for another seventeen years.

"Hey," he whispers, then casts his eyes down to Jaehyun's sleepy head. Nestling into Yoongi's shoulder, Jaehyun's dark hair now has a little length to it. Much like his own, Yoongi is refusing to cut it. Another thing he's scared of getting wrong. 

The subtle nod Yoongi gestures towards Jaehyun is a request for you to be quiet. 

You're familiar with his paternal habits by now; the behaviours he exhibits only when he's wearing his invisible 'Dad' hat.

He tucks back against the door, letting you walk on through and into his apartment.

Shoes off by the door, Yoongi locks up as you shake off your jacket, and hook it on the empty peg in the middle of the rack.

Small and a little dark, Yoongi hates his home. Is strapped for cash, so turned the open plan kitchen and sitting room into a studio-type set-up. Has his bed where a sofa should be, and manages to cram everything somewhere. His desk, his small keyboard, his clothing rail that he really needs to reorganise. A bunch of his things are in storage. 

Jaehyun's room is what once was Yoongi's. It's got the most natural light, thanks to the window placement, not that it matters at this time of night. The curtains are drawn, playmat full of yellows and oranges scattered across the floor. Beside it, is Yoongi's laptop. The screensaver is running, and it's pretty obvious he'd been playing with the little toy octopus sprawled across the keyboard instead, when you had arrived.

"Bit late for nap time?" You question quietly as you pop your phone on the charging pad Yoongi keeps on the dresser.

Nodding, Yoongi gently rests his son down in his crib. These past couple of days, everything has been a little out of sync. He feels guilty—like he's failing—but the pressures he's been putting on himself are just getting far too great. He's doing the best he can, but it always feels like it's not enough.

But Jaehyun is loved, and sheltered, and provided for. Yoongi is doing all he can. He just still isn't sure he knows how to be a dad.

Which is silly, because as you watch him stroke across the dark hair that sits flat to Jaehyun's scalp, quietly monitoring his condition, you think that Yoongi was made for this. Is far more paternal than you are maternal.

Truth be told, you don't like kids all that much.

Your idea of a fun evening doesn't typically involve hanging out with an infant, and yet you'll do it for Yoongi. Of course, you will. Have known him for too long and have been through too much with him to not help him.

Plus, you really do adore Jaehyun. Sweet as can be when he sleeps, he really does look just like Yoongi at that age—or so you gather from the baby pictures you've seen a dozen times over at his parents' place. It's easier to count which features they don't share. Saves ever needing to do a paternity test, not that Yoongi would do one anyway.

Jaehyun is his kid. A little bit of DNA wouldn't change this fact, not in his eyes.

It worries you. Not because you think Yoongi isn't his father—again, they're too alike to not be related—but in case his mother decides she wants to play an active role in Jaehyun's life. You fear that the 1% of doubt could come true and tear any legal right away from Yoongi. You're not really sure how the courts would work it all out, but you doubt they'd side with him. 

Yoongi was never meant to be a father. Not now, at least. The outcome of a one-night-stand, Jaehyun's biological mother didn't realise she was pregnant until it was too late. Had no real choice in the matter. Was also nearing the end of her tenure in law school. A kid was not—and remains to not be—a part of her plan. 

You know the documents were signed. Legal rights, shit like that. Know that she must have an understanding of the law far greater than Yoongi. Just hope she hasn't done anything that will fuck him over in the future.

Still, it's not a topic of conversation Yoongi likes indulging in, and so you don't push, no matter how much you'd like to know the details. 

"Let him sleep," Yoongi eventually sighs, before sinking down to lie on the rug. "Better he rests while I'm working—and plus, he slept through till five-thirty this morning."

"Till sunrise?" You chirp, a little surprised but conscious of keeping your voice down. 

Yoongi nods, face rubbing against the carpet. "He's basically a teenager."

Rolling your eyes, you reach down for his wrist to drag him to his feet. He's got an essay to finish. 

"Shut up," you smile. "You've barely stopped being a teenager."

Sometimes, it makes you a little sad to think that Yoongi is missing out on his early twenties—but then you glance across to Jaehyun and know that he's not missing anything. Just experiencing different things. That's all. 

"Don't remind me," he grunts, lamely getting to his feet, letting you pull him down the hallway as you swipe the baby monitor that lives next to the charging pad. You'll come back for your phone later. 

"C'mon, gotta finish your essay. Can't be a DILF unless you get this degree."

"Untrue."

"You'll just be a D without a good job," you tell him. "DILF's are always suited up."

"That's simply not true," he doubles down. "I've been told I'm a DILF at least, like, six times. Maybe more."

Definitely more. If he knew the way girls on campus spoke about him? God, his head would be so big he wouldn't be able to walk through doors.

But for now, you shoo him back through Jaehyun's bedroom door and to his sitting room-come-bedroom. The apartment isn't large. A baby monitor isn't needed, yet one is set up by Yoongi's bed, regardless. 

And so, as Yoongi knuckles down with his work, you flop onto his bed, and take prime babysitting position—though you're pretty sure you'd get fired if you ever got under anyone else's sheets on the job.

But it's late, and you've worked a long shift. You're only gonna rest your eyes for a moment. A second. A fraction of one, even. Just to hydrate them a little. Replenish your—

You're out like a light.

The curse of Min Yoongi's bedsheets. You really should have known better. It happens every damn time. You know this. He knows this. 

Yet when he eventually wakes you, neither of you mention it.

"Hey," Yoongi mumbles as he gently nudges your sleepy body. Flopping down beside you on top of the duvet, his exhausted eyes close instantaneously. 

"I'm going, I'm going," you grumble into his duvet, half asleep but knowing that you should go and check on Jaehyun. 

The baby monitor hasn't made any noise to wake you, and Yoongi's just been with him for the last twenty minutes, quietly watching on as he slept. Is pretty confident he's gonna sleep through again tonight. 

Reaching out to pat you down, Yoongi doesn't really acknowledge the way he accidentally taps your ass. Nor do you. Just sort of pretend that he didn't. Pretend that it didn't make your heart race a little.

"S'fine," he says, voice muffled by his need for rest. "He's still sleeping. Just checked on him."

"Sure?"

"Mhm," Yoongi nods, the sound of his hair smooth against his sheets. "You gonna crash here?"

"You all done?" You question right back. Shuffle, and his hand lazily moves with you. His wrist now rests on your hip, and you both pretend like it's normal.

"All done," he confirms. "Was late, so I've lost ten percent, but whatever."

For someone who stresses himself out as much as Yoongi does over his grades, as soon as he's hit the submission button, he just ceases to care. Has a 'what'll be, will be' attitude towards it all. Part of you wishes he would adopt that mentality when he's actually writing his essays.

What you don't realise is that it manifests from the same fear. 

He panics and panics and panics before a deadline—and then is so worried about his grade that he just pretends like they don't exist.

Too sleepy to care at this moment in time, Yoongi's placement of his wrist on your hip becomes more intentional. Deliberate. 

It's not like you're a stranger to the weight of Yoongi's arms draped over your body. Not like it's the first time—it's just every time it does happen, you swear it'll be the last.

It never is.

And it's not like it's anything illicit. Not anything you shouldn't be doing. Nothing that takes you beyond the realms of friendship—but it does threaten the integrity of your oldest connection to another human outside of familial ties. 

So every time Yoongi gets a little too close, or you find yourself lingering a little long on his words, you tell yourself to stop. That this is just a symptom of the dry spell you've been going through.

"Are you staying here tonight?" He asks.

Again, it wouldn't be the first time. Have been having sleepovers with him since you were kids. Ghost stories, midnight feasts. Sneaking out to the park to find UFOs and stopping by the corner shop for snacks. 

Once high school hit, it was deemed unwise by your parents. Open door policy. 

You'd been furious. Outraged that your privacy was being taken from you, and being told it was for your own good.

And so sneaking out the park became sneaking in windows; films watched with headphones on, dinner eaten in your bedroom under the guise of a melodramatic teenage strop, but actually shared with the boy from two doors down who knew better than to deceive your parents.

All innocent. Nothing that required a closed door. Those escapades were saved for—or wasted on—other people. Either, or. Neither you nor Yoongi gave it much thought. Why would you?

Friends, is what you were. What you are. What you always have been.

Which begs the question: why the fuck is Yoongi looking at you like that?

But then the wrist of Yoongi's resting on your hip becomes his hand. The grip becomes intentional. The stillness of your body comes not from tiredness, but from trepidation. 

"Do you want me to?" 

"It's late," he husks, thumb stroking against your hip as if that's what friends do. "You're off tomorrow, right? Don't need to go home?"

"Right."

"Well, then stay," he shrugs, loosening his grip to roll onto his back. The ceiling is far less interesting than you are, but he has to stop looking at your lips and wondering if they taste like the strawberry lip balm you'd tossed on the side cabinet earlier. "Makes sense."

"Stay?" You question as if he still needs to clearly outline that, yes, he'd like you to stay. "And do what?"

"Sleep," he dryly replies, because it's the obvious answer. Because it's what you should do. You're tired. He's tired. Jaehyun is asleep in the next room over.

"Sleep," you nod. "Sounds good."

Domestication becomes you in times like these. A toothbrush sits in an old glass on the top shelf of Yoongi's mirrored bathroom cabinet. The rest of the shelves are pretty much empty, but he always puts it up there. Says it annoys him anywhere else.

"Surely it's more annoying having to get it down for me every time I crash here?" You banter with him as you lean against the back wall of his bathroom, waiting for him to retrieve it. 

Plucking it from the glass, Yoongi is swift with his movements, and the way he wets the brush, puts a pearl of toothpaste on the bristles, then hands it back over to you.

"Doesn't bother me," he shrugs, turning back around to shut the cabinet. When he does, he's greeted with your eyes in the mirror, and a feeling in his stomach that should bother him. 

See, the D in Yoongi's DILF actually stands for dependable (although occasionally dickhead also fits). He likes being asked to do things. Likes being helpful. Useful. Knows that he depends on you far more than you do him, and so he does this to settle the score. 

You help him pass his exams, and he helps you keep good dental hygiene habits. A win-win situation. 

Leaving you to finish washing up, Yoongi does the final checks of his apartment. Bolts the door. Turns out the lights. Makes sure Jaehyun's day bag is packed for tomorrow with his Grandma. Adds the day's clothes to the laundry pile. Stands in the doorframe of Jaehyun's room to just simply watch his son exist for a little while longer. 

He loses track of time doing this. It's a nightly routine, so you think he'd get used to it, but he never does. Still can't fully comprehend that a living, breathing creature relies on him for basic survival. 

Sure, he hides your toothbrush away, and puts things out of reach for you just to get you asking him for help, but this is different. He cares about nothing more than making sure Jaehyun is surrounded by abundance: love, shelter, food. Everything the world has to offer, Yoongi wants for his son—and that's why he's working so damn hard to make sure it happens.

There's a tenderness to how Yoongi strokes your back when you stand beside him. He's far gentler than he used to be. Benevolent with age. Isn't the same kid who used to chase you around his parent's yard with a worm in one hand, and a pile of mud in the other. 

"C'mon," you whisper, walking away because you know you need to break the contact. "Let's rest."

Yoongi nods. Is slow as he tears his gaze from his son, but just as stoic as he watches you saunter down the hallway and into your bedroom for the night. His bedroom.

You slip out of sight, just in time for Yoongi to exhale the air in his lungs. His sigh is full of unspoken words. Uncertain terms—and as he follows you down, he wonders how many more secrets will bloat his lungs throughout the night.

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side (twst bully!au) pt 3

here we are, the long-awaited (it was literally like 1 day) part 3!! i wanted to declare on one of the actual chapters since those get seen by the most people that I DID NOT MAKE THIS AU, credit i believe goes to @azulsluver. i swear i don't hate you guys, leaving everything on a cliffhanger, but the good news is i have a lot of time on my hands due to chronic illness so i can update super often. also i gave up on the purple theme on posts bc tumblr hates me and always leaves the end of the word count black.

part 1 part 2

genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, mild yandere (will be escalating throughout the series, but no non-con) word count: 1246

You couldn’t really afford to space out and think about it though, not when he was right in front of you. Riddle tapped his foot impatiently, clearly irate at your lack of response. “Well?” He asked. “Do you not even have anything to say in your defense?”

Oh dear. However were you supposed to get rid of him when he was so intent on getting some sort of answer out of you? You had no idea what he wanted! He was more difficult to threaten, too, since you’d made up your mind that you didn’t want to be like your tormentors and completely ruin others’ lives. No, your end goal was just to make them leave you alone. After everything you’d been through, you really didn’t want to see them again.

It might seem strange to some people, that you weren’t dead set on destroying any semblance of normalcy they once had. You had all the ammunition you needed, of course. The Overblot victims would be the easiest to topple, considering what they’d done in and leading up to that state. But you didn’t think you were a particularly vengeful person; at least, you didn’t want to be. Crowley had always said that you must’ve been sent here to get his precious students to work together, so clearly you weren’t like them.

“I never asked for this, Riddle. Any of this. So if you think somewhere in your fucked-up mentality that you’re doing me some sort of favor, you’re dead wrong,” you intoned. Indeed, even though you just wanted them gone, you missed the days when you were all friends. Back when you thought everyone had your back no matter what. Oh, if only you knew what they’d do for you. It wouldn’t be hard at all to push some of the more unstable students over the edge. Those who felt they didn’t have anyone else. Much like a certain dragon fae who never did seem to get invited to things.

Riddle looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, he was drenched by a great torrential rain. Where did that come from? Didn’t the forecast say it was supposed to be clear skies and sunny for the rest of the week? Your question was soon answered, as you had two more visitors.

“Silver? Sebek? What brings you here?” You inquired, not at all amused. When those two showed up at the same time, it could only mean one thing, and it wasn’t good. Riddle looked like he had caught on as well, since he stepped in front of you, as if that would do any good.

“LORD MALLEUS REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE!!” Sebek boomed. You’d made progress on his volume in the past, so you were sure he did it just to annoy you. Silver just stared. He always stared, you felt like. Sometimes you swore you could feel his eyes on you even when he was nowhere to be found.

“Oh, gee, I wonder what that’s about,” you snarked. “Poor little princey-poo doesn’t want his embarrassing little secrets getting out? Well you can tell him to fuck off.” You must’ve been feeling especially brave, since normally you knew that defying Malleus Draconia was as good as a death sentence. He wasn’t even that bad, compared to some of the others. He just… locked you in his room and made you listen to him talk, with no room to get a word in edgewise. He’d go on and on about one thing or another for HOURS, with no regard for your schedule or your bodily needs. Clearly fae had a different sense of time than most.

It was the loss of control over your own life that you hated; that, and that if he really still considered you a friend, he never bothered to do anything about your bullies. You knew he was more than capable; you’d witnessed his strength firsthand on multiple occasions. You didn’t know what his endgame was, and frankly you were too scared to find out. He could trap you there forever and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it.

Sebek was not amused. He raised an arm, likely to strike you, but Silver placed a hand on it, effectively stopping him. “Don’t. You wouldn’t want Lord Malleus to see a bruise on them,” he reasoned. You didn’t get it. Since when would he care? Sebek roughly shoved Riddle out of the way, despite all his objections, and nonchalantly slung you over his shoulder.

“What the hell?!” You screeched, pounding your fists on his back. “Put me down! I’m not going!” You weren’t sure why you were objecting so vehemently; this time wasn’t any different than the others. But something about the dark gray clouds pouring rain on what should’ve been a lovely day just told you that this was not going to be good.

But alas, your plight was ignored. The three of you made your way to Diasomnia in silence. No one bothered to stop and stare in the halls, as you being carried off by people was somewhat of a normal occurrence. You could swear Savannahclaw and Diasomnia even had some sort of twisted capture-the-flag game going, for whatever reason.

When you entered the gothic-style castle, you were greeted by none other than Lilia. Much like Malleus, he’d never bothered you too terribly, only engaging in less-than-welcome pranks. You knew he was far older than he let on, so you supposed he didn’t see the point in such childish endeavors. There was, however, one thing you feared about the man: his cooking, which he tried to shove down your throat at every opportunity. How Silver grew up healthy you’d never know.

And so, of course, you were greeted by a plate of… well, goop, to put it nicely. “Here, have a seat, dear, I made lasagna,” Lilia offered with what you assumed was supposed to be a warm smile. To you in that moment, with the fumes starting to reach your nose, it looked like a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll pass, thanks. That is to say, I’d rather die than eat that shit, because it looks and smells like it’ll send me straight to hell,” you deadpanned. Sebek let out an unholy screech and started ranting about how dare you refuse Lord Lilia, even though you knew he wouldn’t want to eat it either. You did your best to tune him out. Silver looked relieved, surprisingly enough. You supposed he was able to empathize since he grew up eating the stuff.

Luckily for you, Lilia just sighed and walked off, taking his culinary abomination with him. The three of you who remained shared a look. “How are you still alive after all these years?” You asked Silver. He shrugged. If even he didn’t know, you’d just call it a miracle.

“SILVER, QUIT FRATERNIZING WITH THE ENEMY! LORD MALLEUS IS WAITING!” Sebek practically screamed in your ear. You really wished he would stop doing that. But you had more important things to worry about, like your impending death by dragon fae. Once you arrived at Malleus’s room, Sebek set you down and pushed you inside. You heard the lock click behind you. You gulped, feeling the pressure of being alone in a room with a presumably angry and very powerful mage. You looked up to see a pair of emerald eyes staring you down. Oh boy, this was not going to be fun.

taglist: @twistedcece @slxt4h1m @teawhere @pleasehugmeaether @reivelmin @aoiyx

[practicedvmm13fullofpotatoes]

Leftenmost Window bits that drive me to insanity

(LONG POST. AGAIN. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

Sam went into the story and thought "You know what? Female character time"

"Cry. Cry, cry, cry" AJ, I LOVE YOU BUT YOU SOUND SO SILLY I HATE IT /aff

AJ using myself twice in the same sentence bugs me for some reason help

"But my Egburt isn't a killer" and AJ immediately says a hypothetical that completely ignores what Sam said

"Would you rather be a gardener who has to go to war or a warrior who has to learn how to plant a garden?" SIR WHY ARE YOU ASKING YOUR DAUGHTER THAT? SHE AIN'T GOING TO WAR, SIR, DON'T WORRY

"I think the second one's probably safer 😃👍" YEAH, PROBABLY

"Are you saying that my Egburt is the gardener who's gone to war?" "No, no--" If I had a nickel for every time AJ completely ignores what Sam said just to say a sentence that makes no fucking sense, I'd have 2 nickels. Honestly, it's odd how I only remember it happening twice

"Don't be too hard on father! He gets his words mixed up" Luke came in to save AJ but then screwed him over again on accident with "after that injury in the Boer War in South Africa"

SALLY AND EGBURT'S WIFE JUST BARKING AT EACHOTHER AND THE "ORDERRRR" FROM THEIR FATHER

"Thank you, sister" GIVE HER A NAME GODDAMN IT PLEASE THEY NEVER GAVE HER A NAME I'M SOBBING SO SO HARD

"He promised me he would" MA'AM? MA'AM. THAT'S A BIT SUSPICIOUS, MADAM

"Yeees, it's the- that time" TRYING TO GET THESE TWO TO SEPERATE SO IT DOESN'T ESCALATE BACK INTO ANOTHER FIGHT

"Uhoaohh"

"There's only one trench you should be in" Sam. Please. No premarital sex. Wait until you two are married/wait until Egburt comes back alive

THE FIRST TIME WE HEAR EGBURT IT'S AJ TALKING??

Sam mentioning his mother and then her just appearing "Aah! Oh the migraines!"

AND THEN LUKE CHIMES IN AND CALLS AJ EGBURT?? HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE EGBURT BUT NOOOO, WE NEED MORE SAM AND LUKE CHARACTERS WHO ARE CANONICALLY TOGETHER

"Thewomeninourfamilyhavealwayshadagift.." "O..kay?" SAM IS SO CONFUSED BY THIS SHE PROBABLY THINK HER MOTHER'S INSANE (SHE KIND OF IS THOUGH???)

TOM JUST GOING INTO THE AUDIENCE AND CROSSING THE SEA OF PEOPLE OR IN THE PLAY'S CONTEXT THEY'RE CROSSING A SEA OF SPIRITS THAT FIND THE MORTALS' SHENANIGANS TO BE HILARIOUS

"HEY, I'M NOT DONE! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M IN THE ASTRAL PLANE RIGHT NOW! D:<" IMPLIES THAT YOU CAN GET STUCK IF THE SPIRITS DON'T MOVE ASIDE??

"But- wait" SHE WANTS TO GO BACK?? THIS HAPPENS TWICE, BY THE WAY?? HONESTLY YEAH THIS IS PROBABLY WHY SHE'S ILL

EGBURT AND AJ'S CHARACTER LOOKING AT TOM'S CHARACTER AS IF HE DIDN'T GET SHOT IN THE THROAT PREVIOUSLY

"Neither did I" YEAH BECAUSE HE ISN'T A SCOT??

"What are you knitting over there?" "Scarf :)" "For you, Captain Egburt" SAM LEGIT JUST MADE LUKE EGBURT. HE WAS NOT EGBURT. HE WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE EGBURT

"Aye. That was me" NO BUT REALLY. YOU JUST SAVED A GUY WHO GOT SHOT IN THE THROAT AND SOMEHOW IMMEDIATELY FORGOT ABOUT IT?

Odd how Egburt didn't get shot when he stood up but Tom's character did. Same for AJ's character

DID SAM'S CHARACTER MOAN WHEN HE GOT HIT? I'M SOBBING SO HARD WHAT??

"How old are you?" HE'S YOUNG. THAT'S ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW 👍

"Medical Arena" WHY IS THEIR MEDICAL AREA AN ARENA? TO MAKE SURE THEIR PATIENTS END UP TRAINING SO THAT WHEN THEY RECOVER THEY'LL COME BACK BETTER THAN EVER? HUH???

Tom just going "😃!" when he and Sam said Egburt at the same time (Tom has the best expressions I swear) and then immEDIATELY TRYING AGAIN TO SEE IF THEY SAY IT IN SYNC

"It's me" "And her mother/And my mum" YOU MEAN BOTH OF THEM CAN JUST COMMUNICATE TO THE SAME PERSON? IS SHE GUIDING HER DAUGHTER?? PROBABLY, YEAH??

TOM NOT IMMEDIATELY CATCHING UP TO WHAT SAM WANTS TO SAY

"Lie down in the--" "NO, GET BACK" but aren't you two ALREADY in the astral plane? Is there an astral astral plane??

"The women in my family have the power to project their consciousnesses across space and time.. Well just space, I've not checked out time" Nah, sis, don't worry, your great great grandson has 👍

"I said I'll come back don't worry and then I kissed her on her forehead" LUKE WAS GOING FOR THE DIVORCE PLOT

"You're a gardener, not a warrior, a gardener!" Ah yes, referencing your father's nonsensical metaphor. At least she understood that part

"You took HER to OUR garden?" LUKE REALLY GOING FOR THE DIVORCE PLOT HERE PLEASE GUYS YOU AND YOUR FIANCÉ AREN'T MARRIED YET COME ON

Hans and Heimlich are such a duo I love them so much. "No no, I don't want to speak to you >:(" Why does it seem like there's more to this than just Hans not letting him drive. Why is there some romantic tension here and the other Hans is just the third wheel

"Just double-checking for the scene.." Hans and Hans' reactions are understandable. What scene are you talking about, Heimlich?

Tom's German soldier not knowing his team. Sir, you have trained with them. What do you mean you don't know that one of them listens to American music?

why did you call your father darling after he called you darling?

"She told you about that?" GIRL THAT'S HER HUSBAND, OF COURSE HE WOULD KNOW

SALLY BEING NERVOUS AND A BIT GUILTY. LUKE WAS REALLY GOING FOR THE DIVORCE PLOT UNTIL TOM CAME IN

"I have a closer relationship with father, he tells me more!" You mean your MOTHER? SHE'S the one who has the powers because the WOMEN of the family have the psychic powers.

Luke did a complete U-turn from the divorce plot. AJ then took the wheel and turned the car back to the divorce plot. Thank God we have Tom to save the plot from being darker than it already is

"The Xavier house" THEY'RE THE XAVIERS??? YEAH I WISH I HAD KNOWN/REMEMBERED WHEN I MADE THE NUTB HEADCANONS

"And now I return it to my mind because it's- it's good" MADAM? MADAM THAT'S A BIT 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, MADAM

TL;DR: Sally is the only Xavier to have a first name mentioned in the play & Mrs. Xavier is a 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴

[sofiareidings]

I'm Not Yours

Summary: You're getting over a breakup and meet a cute guy on a case, what you didn't realise was that your best friend has been waiting for years. Warning: Swearing

A/N: I'm sorry my post is so late!! I had it queued up to post at 9am like normal and then it didn't?? And then I had a math test so I couldn't go on my phone or anything, AND THEN HALF THE STORY JUST DISSAPPEARED SO I HAD TO REWRITE IT?!?!? It has been quite the hassle. Also this was a prompt from @andiebeaword's 3000 follower celebration! The first sentence of the story was the prompt. Also, I meant for this to be gn!reader so if anyone sees any she/he pronouns for reader please tell me! Love you all <333

Word Count: 1.5k

Song Suggestions: Yours - Conan Gray

"I can't stand you choosing another person over me, again."

***

His bright blue eyes shined in the sun, a ray hitting across his face perfectly. Pushing his short brown hair out of his face while smiling at you made your insides flutter, completely forgetting about your ex now.

"So as I was saying, it would be best for you and your team to set up here. There's lots of room and we haven't used it in years." His voice came out in this long, deep tone. JJ walked into the room raising an eyebrow at you before taking over the conversation with the officer.

"What was that look?" Jumping slightly, you turned around and saw Penelope. It was that once a year situation where she actually had to join the rest of the team for a case. "Someone likes the officer."

The girls took any chance they could to get you to talk to the guy. They weren't wrong, you did think he was insanely cute but, you just weren't quite sure if you had the guts to really talk to him.

"I do not!" You laughed, "And even if I did…it's not like anything could happen." Penelope continued pestering and Emily joined the conversation and made sure to give her opinion as well.

***

"You better at least get his number, we're only gonna be here for a few more days." Penelope had been bugging you the most out of anyone, "Well, I let you sit on that thought. I need to go work my wonderful magics so I will talk to you about this later." She smiled and strutted away back to her laptop setup down the hall.

"What was Garcia talking about?" Turning back to the task at hand, Spencer was standing at a board. Working on the case. "Is this about that officer?" His voice was very flat, little emotion which was unusual for him. Especially around you, the two of you had been best friends since you transferred to the BAU.

"Yeah it was, she's trying to get me to get his number." Not turning from his work you started to flip through some files and continue to talk. "I do think he's pretty hot, but I also think it's way too early to start putting myself out there you know?"

"Yeah, yeah I guess I can understand that." Peeking over his shoulder briefly to look at you. Hearing the way you were talking about this guy was leaving him conflicted. The first day he had met you he'd already fallen in love. No statistic or math problem could explain how that happened. He's been sitting on the sideline for the past three years, watching you go from boyfriend to boyfriend, letting him be your shoulder to cry on when it was heartbreak after heartbreak. But honestly, he didn't know how long he could keep going like this.

"...But it could also be some type of fate thing. Like, I break up with a toxic asshole and then meet a dreamy police officer? I don't know, what do you think Spencer?" Walking over to him to put up some photos and thoughts on the board you look up at him, waiting for his response.

"Whatever you think is best I suppose," It took him a long time to respond, the way you were speaking of this guy was just breaking his heart more and more. It was taking all his power to not just scream 'I LOVE YOU!!' and see your reaction. "Do you want to ask him out."

"I think so, I guess he is really nice, and really good looking…" Going on about him a bit more, you paused then changed your thought process. "I mean everything and everyone is telling me to go for it but some small part of me is saying no."

"I think I'm just being paranoid, why shouldn't I put myself out there? It has been like three months. And if it doesn't work out, so what? At least I tried. I think I'll do it." Just like that, the hope died. Should he just say it? Get it out there and hope for the best? This was impossible.

"What does that mean? Are you just not ready to put yourself out there again or is it because there's someone else?" A small glimmer of hope ignited in him, maybe he still had a chance after all.

***

"I'm going to do it. So you can stop annoying me about it, Pen." She smiled and started to ramble about how it will be so good for you. The case had been solved and you were all packing up. Everyone with the exception of Hotch and Rossi were in the room given to the team.

"I'm so glad you're going to do this! You two would be such a sexy pair I just know it." You and Penelope continued to talk, but Spencer was just heartbroken. Standing on the opposite side of the room he could still hear you. He was packing up his things slowly, hoping to get a chance to talk to you alone.

"You should just go for it kid, don't let them get with another guy without you atleast saying it." Derek, giving his opinion to Spencer while leaning against the wall. Tossing a ball now that he was all packed up.

"What if you say something and they like you back?" Derek counter protested. Spencer thought about it for a minute, he had a point. But on the other hand he couldn't tell what would be worse; watching you ask someone else out again or telling you and losing such an important person in his life.

"I know, I just don't want to ruin three years of friendship. What if I say something and they never talk to me again?" He questioned, still listening in on your conversation.

***

"I'll be done in a minute!" You called out to Penelope and Emily. Still packing up your things it was only you and Spencer left in the room.

Finally throwing your bag over your shoulder you started to catch up to the rest of the team you heard Spencer call out to you. "Wait! Can I talk to you for a minute, please?"

"Yeah, of course." A little confused on why he sounded so nervous you stood infront of him, waiting for him to continue. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing it's just," He cleared his throat, no or never. "I was just wondering if you gave that officer your number yet."

"Oh, not yet. I was actually about to do that. Why do you ask?" Titling your head, curious. He started to fidget with his hands, not sure what to say.

"Oh, so you are going out with him." His voice barely above a whisper. "That's nice I suppose."

"Okay…" You smiled and started to head to the door. "I'm going to go now, see on the jet Spencer?"

"I- please, I need to say something." He tripped over his words, come on Spencer, just say it!!!

"Are you okay? You seem nervous." Why was he acting like this? It was so confusing to you.

"Okay, I'm just going to say it." He sighed, "I don't want you to go out with that officer. I mean if you really want to you should do it of course but I don't want you to because I want you to go out with me. If you don't feel the same way tell me but it's just, I can't stand you choosing another person over me, again." Biting the inside of his cheek, waiting for your response.

"Oh," Was all you could say at first. You didn't really know what else to say. "You, you like me?"

"Yeah, I do. And if you don't feel the same way I get it and pretend I never said anything because I don't want to lose you. But if you go out and date this guy I'm going to have to put up a boundary, I'm sorry."

"Spencer, I don't know what to say," You laughed lightly, not sure how to say what you were thinking. "I feel the same way, I just assumed you never would like me back so I have been trying to get over it."

"Really?" He smiled and gave that puppy-dog face he always made. "Are you serious?"

"Why would I lie?" Throwing your bag over your shoulder you hugged him then stepped back giving a small smile. "We should go though, the jet is supposed to leave like now. But can we talk about this later?"

"I would like that." The two of you started to head out, and you completely forgot about the officer. Spencer just walked out with a huge smile on his face. Why didn't he say this sooner???

[filmbyjy]

COLLIE DUTY

TWENTY-TWO — clearing up mistakes

SYNOPSIS > being the new CEO to the ‘Sim Corp’ was hard and stressful. jake didn’t have much time to spend with layla and so he decides to get a dogsitter, you. though, you were originally already his secretary. how will dog sitting bring you two closer?

WARNINGS: none :D let me know if there are some idk missing words to sentences. sometimes my brain processes the sentence but when I reread it, it doesn’t have the word but I swear I wrote it down😭

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

as you threw on your outfit that you had decided for the ‘date’, or whatever jake asked you, you had stepped in front of the mirror and snapped a quick photo.

posting it right on your Instagram story that was very much public to everyone. it wasn’t disclosed but you had a decent amount of following but nobody saw your face, just your body. you had wanted to keep it a secret because you know, private stuff.

your friends knew about the account. heeseung even joked about you looking like some faceless model with the way you took pictures of yourself. quite suggestive poses, very little clothing but you just wanted to express yourself because why not love yourself?

“shit, I should leave.” you didn’t even think to cover your face when you posted that photo on your account. you had quickly made it out of your apartment and went downstairs to see jake’s car waiting for you.

the moment you entered the car, you see jake looking at his phone in shock. you had peeped at his phone a little. then it hits you, you posted that pic without covering your face. jake’s eyes slowly met with yours.

“sir.” it was the only thing you could mutter out.

“you’re the faceless model that I was looking for?” he says.

you were confused. no seriously confused, “what do you mean, Mr.Sim?”

“I wanted to possibly reach out to this girl to collab for the new collection that we’re going to send out to a designer brands competition and sign her up for a contract.”

“oh.”

“you’re her?” jake says still in shock.

“is it that shocking that I am her?”

“no, not at all. it’s just that…I didn’t think you’d pose in such positions.”

“I just post this for my own pleasure. it’s fun to dress up and take photos.”

“(name).”

“yes, Mr.Sim?”

“please be the model for our ‘JS collection’.”

“Mr.Sim, I don’t exactly want to be a model. I’m already your secretary and it’s something I have been focusing on for the past 4 years.”

“I know but this would be a great opportunity. You’re pretty and you definitely fit the vibes of our new collection, it’s perfect.”

you can’t help but blush when jake called you pretty.

“Mr.Sim-”

“also dropped the ‘Mr.Sim’. I already told you when it’s just us call me jake.” jake demanded said.

“okay, umm jake. I really don’t think I can do it.”

“then what if I reward you with something if you do it?”

you deadpanned at him, “jake, I am not Layla.”

“I’m not using the ‘good girl’ tactic like you’re a dog. I’m serious, I’ll reward you with something good.”

“what is this something good?”

“tickets for like a holiday? You deserve it after working long hours as my secretary and also…for hearing what you did back in office.”

“oh.”

holy shit, sound the alarm sim jaeyun is apologising.

“yeah, I was supposed to apologised at the restaurant once we got there but since we’re already here in my car talking, I think I should apologise first.” jake takes a deep breath.

“look, I understand what you heard isn’t exactly what any normal person should hear in an office space. let alone a CEO’s office. you’re also my secretary so it was unprofessional to let that happen considering your desk was also near me. I’ll be honest, that part slipped my mind. I forgot we’re both not in two different offices. your desk is like at least 10 footsteps away from my office.” jake was about to ramble on more but you had cut him off.

“jake.”

“yeah?”

“it’s fine. I understand you have your little scandalous activities you wanna do. moreover, you’re well, someone attractive so like it’s only more normal for you to have fun.”

jake shakes his head, “let’s forget about this and have dinner. I’m sure after a long day of working, you need some good food. of course, this is also a token of apology for the umm things you heard.” jake starts up the car and starts to drive.

it was great to have this whole thing be cleared up and jake apologising. it made you feel warm on the inside, hearing jake be soft-spoken and kind to you was a change. You liked this version of jake and if you were being honest, you liked the view beside you right now.

jake holding onto the steering wheel with one hand, slick back black hair with a few pieces of hair falling onto his forehead. His black suit tucked into his pants, the black slacks he wore, one of his sleeves folded up his hand. His arm exposed that showed off the black Galaxy watch he wore on his wrist.

God the arm veins…

Your inner conscious was screaming at you. Sim Jaeyun was definitely out to murder you. you don’t even know how long you’ve been staring at him for.

“We’re here.” Jake says as he parks the car at the front of the restaurant. He goes out of the car to pass the keys to the staff there and then opens the door for you.

“Let’s go, my lady.” he says in a deep voice. You swore you just got a whole shiver down your spine which is why jake went to open the back door of the car to grab his jacket and wrapped it around your figure.

“you’re not talking, are you in shock?” he snickers. “if you must know, I have never brought anyone to some fancy high end restaurant before.”

“oh…” was the only thing you could say.

jake chuckles before softly grabbing your hand, “let’s go, it’s cold out here.”

which was how you found yourself being dragged by jake into the restaurant where the food was extremely expensive and really divine. definitely a meal for the rich.

a/n: HELL🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️ I am sat! jake do be very hot for apologising and knowing what he did was very wrong and if you think that they are gonna start dating, THINK AGAIN🙄🤚🏻 I gotta drag this story for a little longer

taglist[open]: @svarcq @wooonkies @ajayke-reads @peachysunooooo @xiaoderrrr @viagumi @lunakua @bubblytaetae @aureliaxuuu @nikiluvr16 @sngvhs @watermelon-sugars-things @bldelaine @enhaz1 @yeoungie @heart4hees @mimimovv @enczen @enhastolemyheart @woon2u @kyanmeai @4townn @skzenhalove @s00buwu @ce1ight @markleepooh @sparklingsjy @rizzshimura @bluxjun @beomgyusonlywife @jyndre @blamemef0rit @fanfangying1304 @kwiwin @heart4hees @luxurystark-jackson @yunjardi @ioszzn @mrowwww @hyhees @25dejulho @neoculturewhat @wtfhyuck @dianzed @143lele @ajybeo @teddywonss @nyfwyeonjun @alwayswook @shinrjj @manooffline @heavenhannie @bmnyy17 @jayujus

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[selarina]

I love you so (I'll eat you whole)

→ Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader

Summary: Two individuals caught in a repetitive cycle of phone calls and conversations, each blaming the other for their constant and inescapable interaction.

Or as Tom Wambsgans once said, "I love you but you kill me, and I kill you.

Content Warning: Toxic Relationship, Rough Sex, Heavy Angst, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Emotional Hurt, Allusions to Substance Abuse, Jealousy, Smut, Mentions of Cheating, Power Dynamics, Spit Kink, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Post-Break Up, Dom Kuroo Tetsurou, Switch Kuroo Tetsurou, Switch Reader, Crying, Dacryphilia, Unresolved Emotional Turmoil, MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3.3k words

Author's Note: This is possibly the most toxic, and filthy thing I have written. And will likely be the last. Enjoy.

Read on AO3

"If anything this is your fucking fault."

"What the fuck? You're the one who called me," you say, and it irritates him how you can be this nonchalant. How he's the one up and carding his hand through his hair and you're just sitting, your hands and mind focused on a fucking cigarette.

"You fucking picked up. Yo—You could have just not."

You turn, your brows cinched, your eyes seething and it almost makes him happy, and that thought alone is enough to make him feel a bit sick. 

"You are the one who called me," you say, accentuating every single word of that sentence.

"You always pick up. You could just not," he's repeating what he said and he thinks he could repeat it a thousand times and you still wouldn't understand.

"You're the one who's always calling. I do — Just stop."

Maybe he should, he thinks but it’s a fleeting thought. "I can't, and you know it," he says, his voice soft and a bit hoarse.

He sits down on the bed now, too tired to keep standing through this. His hand runs through his hair, he thinks anymore of this and he'll go bald — by stress or through pure frustration.

"You know it," he says, his voice comes out softer this time and you can tell he's tired. 

He looks up to you, and he can tell you're tired. Tired of him trying to fix this, whatever you two would call it, but not tired enough to end it on your own. He supposes that in a way he's nothing but a hypocrite — how can he expect this from you when he won't do it himself?

Your hands come up, the cigarette finally abandoned and your fingers run through his hair, and it reminds him of the last summer before college started. Your hands would card through his, just like this. You were gentler back then, treating him like a delicate doll, now you card through his hair like he's yours, still a doll but fervently yours through time.

"I know," you say, your voice comes off hushed. "I know, baby."

And just like that he sinks. Into your shoulder, and into your life. Once again. All over again.

He smiles as his hands loop around your naked waist. You flinch ever so slightly at his cold hand, and just for a moment he thinks that maybe he should take his hands off, find his discarded shirt, and his car keys, and never return.

But then he thinks of how it feels to sink into you like this, like he could fit all of himself right next to you. You're the missing piece of his puzzle. Or maybe he is yours, he can't tell anymore.

Your hands keep moving against his hair, back and forth, and back and forth. Sometimes it moves sideways, but it's been long enough for him to figure out a pattern so he nips at your neck, slowly but harshly, his teeth sink in as he pulls against your skin. 

You groan deeply, he feels it against the hand that sits on your waist. His hands tighten, he already knows that you won't pull away, but he can't help but pull you into him every single time because he knows this is fleeting, and he's grasping onto you while you're a dimly lit lantern that's waiting— no, palpitationing and aching to be set free.

Your hands are still gentle, even as he's pulling against your skin, you don't tighten into his hair. You never have, and so he kisses over the now visible bruise, and he's happy he can leave at least this on you. It makes him think that maybe all of this is not as fleeting as he thought. You carry the bruises for at least a week he realizes — all the love bites and the handprints.

He pulls back, his eyes narrow and you notice they're tinged with red, as though he cried but you know he didn't, you would've felt it. You look into your shoulders and still see no residual of tears.

His eyes stare back into yours when you look back up. They're muddled with a mix of frustration and just desire.

And for the first time today, your eyes show emotion. Other than pure fucking horniness, you feel love, it's a distant love, it's a love that doesn't exist but you feel it in this moment.

You draw yourself closer to him, and in one swift move, your lips are on his. You want to take this slow, like back in high school, when you treated each other with care and a brewing hint of fear, because you didn't want to break him and he didn't want to break you. 

You can't help but internally laugh at how you both have failed, so miserably at that.

You want to take it slow, but you fear Kuroo may have different plans. He starts nipping at your lips, and tries and tries to swallow you whole. You fight against it, but eventually, as always you give in, almost feeling blissful as you give in.

His arms bruise against your hip as he pulls you onto his lap, your thighs lodging themselves onto his thigh. 

You pull back, "Are you in love with her?"

This time he really laughs, "Like you'd ever let me." 

"I'm not stopping you," you say. Almost offended, but mostly relieved. You're really not stopping him.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say, you aren't stopping him. In fact, the last time he called you, freshly broken up with his girlfriend, all because she knew — she knew you were the only one for his fucked up self, and she left. You told him to go back, to apologize, to make things right and he begged to stay, to sink into your arms, and you let him because you could try to hide it all you want but his eyes could convince you to do anything for him if you didn't look away, and that night he held your face in place, and there was nowhere else to look.

"I could never. I would never not love you. Fuck, I'm so in love with you it's driving me insane," he groans, and he means it.

You softly whimper at his confession and slowly melt in his arms, arms going around his shoulders as you hug him flush. He kisses the crevice of your neck, as his hands trace down back to your waist.

He puts a soft pressure that's enough to encourage you to do more. You move against him, softly but with each grind, he puts more force into it, and it has you whimpering into his neck.

"I hated that you started seeing her. I hated that she thinks she has the right to touch you" You moan.

"Yeah, baby? How much?" He groans too, because your moving knee is moving against his crotch.

"So much," you moan, the jealous fury consumes you, and consequently consumes him. You remember how she hung onto him in their latest Instagram picture and you pull your hands in tighter around his shoulders. 

You find solace in the fact that it's deleted. Gone. And the thought of that makes you sick. Somewhere down there, you know you're a terrible person. But also, somewhere down there, you feel like a teenage girl. Like the same teenage girl that met and fell for Tetsurou and all his odd charm, the same teenage girl that just won't let go, and you've long since known what happens to teenage girls in an adult world.

And then you pull back, and his eyes look up, a bit frantic, as his hands soften. He looks into your eyes, seeing if you want to back away, maybe this is the one time the two of you back away from each other.

But you've been here, and you've thought this one too many times to believe it, so you smile and push him back against the bed, with no force at all, but he knows as much to comply.

You don't waste much time, you pull his pants down, along with his underwear as your hands start moving up and down his cock. 

He groans, "Baby, please. Can you—" He's cut off by another groan as his hand comes to hide his face with his forearms.

You stop all at once, and he wants to die. You lean down, one hand still stroking his cock, and the other coming up. You take his hand covering his face and pull it above him, and he looks at your face, and you think you'll never see devotion like this, not from any man, not from any disciple to their God.

You don't hide your smile, it's anything but triumphant, it's sad really. Because you'll never find this anywhere else, not even with him, no matter how much you try and try again. He's not the same as you once were.

You move your hand away, cruelty on your part, as you fiddle with your bra instead as he lies in front of you, helpless as he watches and pleads with his eyes. It almost makes you want to never give in like you should get up instead, take your carefully folded clothes against the chair, and put your clothes on as you tell him to leave before you come back from your cigarette run.

But you don't, instead your bra snaps apart and you give in completely, no turning back after this.

But you didn't look down at him through all this, and somewhere in between your contemplation and fiddling. Kuroo Tetsurou decided that he's had enough of this. He wants—no, he needs more. He's strung up and he's never been more close to bursting through the streams.

And so he reaches for your waist as soon as your bra snaps apart. Your breasts barely get a second to breathe before he's coming up and lifting you off the bed and off of him, depositing you knees-first onto the cold tile of your room. 

You look up, ready to snap at him but you look up and he's standing. His cock hovering right above your face. Hard.

He gives you no warning before he smacks the meat of your cheek with his cock. A few heavy smacks hit your lips. The message is clear now as you part your lips, finally fully completely, and ardently giving into him. 

As your mouth encloses his cock, trying and trying to reach the hilt of his pubes. He realizes he has missed this the most out of all things. He has missed a show of devotion from you, something stronger than a mere Instagram caption. Something as vile as this — you choking on his cock while still looking at him starry-eyed, and for a second he could fool himself into believing it's all okay. Like you love him as you always have, and the worst part is, you think you do, you think it is he who has changed.

He doesn't get to dwell on this, not when you're like this. You may be on the floor, but with you, like this, he feels so much beneath you in the basest way describable. 

You pull away, your eyes teary and your lips swollen. "Come for me," you say, your voice hoarse but still commanding, and who was he to deny your command? So, like a mere disciple, he comes.

He's catching his breath as he looks down, holding his heavy cock in one hand.

His hands come to your lips, knowing you have swallowed. You never do, not until you show him. Your mouth opens up, and he bends and spits into your mouth. 

His hands come to the side of your cheeks as he slaps twice consecutively. And then you swallow.

Seconds pass and the two remain as you are, trying to regain your breath. His hands come to wipe your tears, as his palm comes to caress your cheek and for the first time in 5 years, you softly lean into it. 

Tetsurou thinks he could cry, so he comes down to you, sits face to face, and says, "I love you. So much." 

There are tears, they haven't flown yet but you see it in his eyes and you hate it. You look away, but his hands come to bring your eyes back to him, he starts leaning in for a kiss, slowly this time like you wanted.

He softly nips against your lower lip, with no force this time. Taking his time as he moves his hand across your waist, and through your hair. 

Your hair, though, is tangled and stops his hands in your hair and when he pulls, it pulls your head down with his hand. 

"Fucking — Ouch!" You hit his hand away, as your hand comes to soothe your scalp.

"I'm so sorry, baby." He says, sincerely but then he starts chuckling.

You frown, but can't help but smile when you see the soft dents in his cheeks. You think they're less defined now, back in high school, they were like craters of the moon, hollow enough to hold water, you would tease. Now you think it would spill right out, holding perhaps two drops at most.

"Are you still seeing him?" He says, but he's sheepish and he looks away. He asked you this last time, actually — he threatened you to keep seeing him, as he kept fucking you that night — he told you to see him, that he would never compare. 

Only Tetsurou knows they were empty words, from an empty man. 

"Yeah," you say. But it barely matters to you, or the "him" Tetsurou is so worried about. "He" is your friend before he's your... well, more than friends, less than lovers, whatever you may call that. 

"Didn't take you for one to cheat," Kuroo says before he could stop himself.

"I would never," you say, a sudden surge of anger emerging, fighting against your weariness. "You know I would not," you say.

He does. You think you would break up with the person and go ahead and fuck them far before you would cheat on them. Kuroo thinks you're lovely and cruel like that, but mostly lovely.

You know you would only do that because you hated the burden of one's pain, the guilt of causing that pain. You've seen how it tore your family apart, no matter how much they tried. You groan internally, no point in picking at closed wounds.

"He's not my boyfriend, Kuroo," you say.

"You told me he was," he says, his brows cinching. 

"I never did," you say. He pauses and laughs cynically. Well, you're always careful with what you say and show, aren't you? 

"You never told me he wasn't either," he says.

"Makes no difference," you say.

"Yeah," he agrees. He came here, thinking you had a boyfriend. You let him in, knowing he had broken up with his girlfriend a while ago. You must be a better person, right? 

Looking into your eyes, he can't help but feel the need to disagree. You're kind and you're cruel, all at the same time somehow. But he's no less, so he forgoes the guilt in almost a swift minute, as he pulls you by your legs as lays you down on the cold floor.

You hiss as your back hits the floor. Kuroo's hand sweeps both of yours as he pulls it up above your head.

"Don't see him," he says. "I don't—" he pauses before he sighs. "Don't see him," he can't help but just repeat what he said.

"I'll consider it," you say. 

You won't, you decide at that moment. You'll leave Kuroo and you'll continue fucking your friend, and this will all be over because one day you'll wake up as a brand new person, and you'll find that you have the ability to love someone other than Kuroo Tetsurou.

You think he sees right through all of this as he starts removing your underwear, which soon after, joins his pile of clothes lying idle on the floor.

His hands cup your cunt, and his middle finger toying with your sore clit. You hiss, and he notices. He hasn't fucked you since he last saw you 2 months ago, so he knows. He knows. He thinks back to the clothes of men he saw, the ones you were folding away as you had just finished drying them when he arrived. You insisted that you will finish folding and placing them first. Not wanting to delay fucking you any further, he complied. Maybe he was too lost in his desire to get you like this, eyes half-lidded with tiredness and desire, but he missed the slew of clothing items that seemed like they belonged to a man.

The shift in his eyes with the newfound presence of iciness in his eyes starts getting to you, as you shrivel in, and start moving as his continued pressure builds.

You try to go quiet, without the support of your hands, as you notice you're the only one making noise. He's just looking at you, not a single word coming from his mouth. 

His fingers slip in, and he pumps in and out as you struggle more and more to keep quiet, and somewhere in between you give up. Moaning loud enough to know you might get a frustrating call from your neighbor.

He doesn't let you come though, and you don't know if this is comeuppance for not making him come before, or if this is frustration with your friend who's been getting the privilege to fuck you into your mattress all the while Tetsurou continued to drown himself in alcohol. 

He stops his ministrations, moving back, facing your open legs on his knees. He pulls your leg apart, lining his cock with your hole, Kuroo let out a breath as he slowly pushes himself in. 

It's not a tough fit, what with you already dripping all over yourself for him. 

Those first few seconds always felt so fucking good, blowing his mind each time, and before you could even take the warning, he dragged his cock almost fully out of you and then pushed back in, quickly and harshly. 

After a few quick and intense thrusts, he picked up a brutal pace, forcing her to take him as deep as possible each time, and each time he moved out and back in, you moaned louder, tears dripping out of your eyes as he watched you in your basest form. He thinks he's never loved you more, knowing he couldn't be more wrong.

“Was he as good as me, baby?” Kuroo growls, to cover up the fact that it's a plea. He needs to know. It would kill him if he doesn't hear it from you, he thinks.

He continues fucking into you so harshly that you kept scooting further up the floor. “Tell me, baby. Please."

You look into his eyes, and worry when you see your watery eyes, match his own.

"No one," you moan. "No one is as good as you." 

He thinks he can finally breathe now. "Good girl," he says, a soft smile on his face, his pace slows down as he bends down to kiss your forehead.

You can't help but smile, just a little.

He comes back up and picks up his pace. He thinks that he could do anything to you right now, and you would accept it like the good girl you were. 

His girl, he can't help but think wistfully.

He bends down again and starts kissing you, softly and harshly all at once, before he comes into you.

You don't let him go, even when he's done, and lying next to you on the cold floor. His eyes flit to the discarded clothes. He doesn't want to, but he thinks he should reach for them. See how you would react, and think of what happens from there but as he moves he finds his hand held softly in your grip. He could get out of it, and you know that. 

He grips your hand. He understands. 

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Millie Bright x Reader

Part Two: Playing Pretend

Posted 24/04/23, Edited 29/06/23

Prompt: Part 2 to playing pretend gotta have Rachel telling off Millie - anon

Pacing Rachel’s front room, kitchen and garden with Dexi following you everywhere, you couldn’t believe what you’d just done had zero reaction from your supposed girlfriend. “Am I dumb? She didn’t say anything, just stood there like a fucking fish opening and closing her mouth! I’ve let her keep me in the closet for 6 fucking years! Everyone must think I’m a bloody idiot!” Unable to form a sentence without using expletives showed just how angry you were as you hated swearing without proper reasoning, this felt appropriate though. Maybe it hadn’t hit you yet but the pure rage you felt for allowing yourself to be silenced for six years overpowered the tears. The real you would never have accepted this from a relationship so why was Millie any different, why did you put up with that for so long?

You paused in the kitchen just long enough for Rach to flick the kettle on and plop Dexi into your arms, she hadn’t been able to get a word in since your arrival but knew having something fluffy to stroke calms everyone down. Grabbing the teas and placing them onto the garden table she gestured for you to sit with her, which you did for a few seconds before your restlessness got the better of you and your legs took you around the garden again. The eye roll earsplittingly loud as she went to rummage through her kitchen drawer and threw you a vape. She knew you were trying to quit but had left one here for emergencies and this certainly was one. “Drink your tea” she said with force to make you stop pacing, placing Dexi on the floor to pick up your cup without sitting down. Tutting at your actions your best friend stood up and directed you to the chair “Sit. Stroke. Sip.” were her instructions as you found Dexi in your lap once again “and then we’ll pretend this goal is her head” as she pulled her nephew’s tiny goal out of the shed and took it to the back of the garden. She always knew what to do and no one else gives better advice than Rach.

Downing your tea so you could get your feet on the ball you took shots one after the other, it was a good way to release anger. “Am I gonna get a go?” she asked as she soft tackled the ball off you which made you smile for the first time today. “Assuming she doesn’t apologise, I’m gonna lose you Daly” you muttered thinking about how she was Millie’s friend way before yours and will obviously stick by her number one. “Oh she will, trust me” as the force she hit the ball with made the goal fall over. Standing there looking defeated your mind started to wander, you wouldn’t just lose your girlfriend you’d also lose your best friend too. “Yeah but what if-“ you started but was swiftly interrupted “no ‘what if’, she will. I’ve been telling her from the start it’s not fair on you, I’m on your side” passing the ball back to you. The anger had left your body slightly knowing you at least had one person in your corner as you swapped from shooting to keepie uppies. You didn’t know that she’d been telling Millie this was wrong from the beginning which somehow hurt even more knowing she ignored her best friend’s advice too. You’d been gone for hours and she still hadn’t reached out.

The next morning while you were still asleep Rachel went round to Millie’s house. The last thing Millie expected was her best friend at the front door at 7am with a face like thunder. “Do we have a date today that I’ve forgotten?” Millie asked rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “What the actual fuck?” Millie’s eyes turned to shock as she didn’t imagine this first thing in the morning. “You don’t think I know exactly what you’ve done and you’re here acting like it’s just another day, are you fucking serious?” Millie looked down at her feet as she visibly gulped, she hates being told off but is the first to give anyone else an earful. The silence was deafening as Rachel saw the same face you did yesterday, mouth opening and closing, she knew how you felt when she didn’t say anything. “Do you really have nothing to say?” the face of disgust from Rachel wondered who the hell the person was in front of her. Walking straight past Millie to the kitchen she done exactly the same thing that she did for you, flicking the kettle on and brought teas to the sofa. “Talk.” she said with the thump of the full cup hitting the table, not giving her the same luxury of comfort in her presence as she did you.

Wrapping both hands around the cup Millie began to talk “it’s just, the longer it went on the harder it became to tell people. I just thought it’d be easier this way” she said quietly. “Did you not think for a second how that would affect (y/n) Mill?” Rachel was determined to fight your corner and knew she would eventually win her over. “Well, she seemed okay with it. I didn’t know it affected her that much” Millie shrugged which rubbed Rachel the wrong way. The body language giving off a ‘don’t care’ attitude. “Really? I’ve been telling you for years, imagine the shoe was on the other foot. How would you feel if someone kept you a secret for 6 years?” sinking into the corner of the sofa and crossing her legs. “Yeah but-“ “no buts Mills, she told you she wants to marry you and you said nothing. How would you feel?” defiant in her stance she wasn’t going to leave until Millie came round. “Pretty shitty I guess” she said looking into her cup. “It’s not just telling everyone she’s my girlfriend though, I’ve never actually come out to anyone apart from you. Nobody knows I like girls too” she said which made Rach a little softer in her approach. “If she knew that she would have helped you with it, she would have supported you with that. Not pretending you’re in a relationship with a man to hide the fact you’re bi babe, that’s not okay.” Millie looked pensive as the first tears she’d shed over this situation started to flow, Rach’s hand reached for the tissues and placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. “So are you gonna fight for her or let her go?”

Part Three

[ctheathy]

Survival instinct didn’t make the cut

Yandere Ticci Toby x Reader

Angst oneshot

Imagine making your first Tumblr post and it’s this. But I swear, this scenario has been living rent free in my head for the past months-

I believe it turned out quite alright though, hope whoever comes across shall be able to enjoy it themselves too =} Goodluck, darling~

Ticci Toby/Reader

⚠️Warnings ⚠️ :

•Toby lmao. •Yanderes •Reader’s demise •Obsessive behaviour • Abuse in all varieties •Implied non-con // r#pe •Indirect su!c!de •Slight detail of gore // blood •Derealization ?? •Tobitch going through the five stages of grief

Angst time babiee

____________________________________________

Now he’s done it.

Before you is where he stood, body trembling as the smell of bitter iron was dancing alongside his nostrils, mocking him.

His throat was aching, easily confirming the assumption that he had in fact been screaming at you. He hadn't expected this, but he should have.

He should have realised his self-restraint was reaching it’s limits.

He had lost count of the amount of speeches he had prematurely given you in warning over the course of just six months, the amount of punishments he’d given you in an attempt to put you in your place, his already thin patience having decreased into absolutely nothing. Why the fuck couldn’t you just be all ears and listen to anything for once in a lifetime?

You never listened.

It seemed like not too long ago he would have once again had your fragile figure cornered in an obvious out of control burst of rage. Figuring he had the absolute opposite of innocent intent, as he has done many, many times before in his quote on quote “regular” state alone. Yet the now deafening silence was haunting to Toby. You never enjoyed crying when he was in the same area as you were, he knew this, but some whimpers here and there did always manage to slither it’s way out of your throat. Especially when battered like this, you’re not supposed to be this quiet.

Conversations were rare, but it surely wasn’t like they weren’t there at all, despite how minor they might have been. He’d recall you flat-out ignoring his entire existence for a long time before that, and when you did reply to a sentence or two; your answers were always kept as short as possible, too short. Cold, even.

You and your blunt statements.

It angered him, following with Toby developing a habit of literally demanding your attention and cooperation, which surely wouldn’t be considered all that bad by a majority of people,

if it didn't include inflicting damage if a hint of resistance was even shown, that is.

Neck twitching severely with his eyes scanning over your once gorgeous form; one he wished to have held onto for the absolute rest of eternity, now beaten into a bloody pulp. Truthfully saying, your state had already been quite the wreck from these so-called “punishments” you had endured from him formerly, but they were nothing in comparison to whatever the hell he did to you this time. Your body structure wasn’t even recognisable to the bare eye anymore. The only thing left confirming your identity being your facial features, those you had instinctively tried shielding with your arms; arms who were now bend in uncomfortable positions, whose bones were now much so similar to your ribcage as they were clearly showing, sharp tips that had been broken off of the full bone structure poking out of the bloodied flesh.

You seemed to have gotten on his nerves once more, didn’t you? Who were you even kidding, you were always at fault from his point of view. You swore it had gotten to a stage where he just reached out for whatever excuse he could get his grabby hands on to cause harm upon you. His frustration streaks being no help in the matter, whatsoever.

That being said, this too included suffering the most whenever his torturous desires came over to front within his own mind, lashing out and resulting in unimaginable that when given too much detail would probably get me banned discipline instances in itself. He was trying to tame you into being some compliant little lap dog,

the perfect significant other.

And you? You were absolutely not having it.

You were very well aware of the fact that you, too, weren’t exactly the easiest when being in his presence either. Seemingly almost intentionally setting him off, having caused many broken limbs, bruises in all colours of the rainbow, deep wounds and screaming matches that could have easily been prevented otherwise. You just could not help it, the thought alone of being obedient to this- this monster made you sick to the stomach. The strict mental promise you made to yourself literally keeping you sane from his either constant cruelty or unwanted affection.

It was no surprise to say that he just went along with everything he desired as well, not caring about the clear signs of major discomfort your own figure had been showing Every. Single. Time.

Well.

He simply continued to take, greedily getting some sort of emotionally high on all that you'd indirectly have the possibility of giving him. Your blood, tears, cries, whatever sound he managed to get out of you, your body; he wanted all of it, the most suffocating part being that he wouldn’t ever hesitate to be selfish when it came to his wants, his needs. You could yell, squirm and resist all you wanted ...but deep down you knew attempting to resist his lustful urges would be futile. You knew he would continue to take until you were nothing short of an empty husk.

That was the case, atleast.

Until there was nothing left to take from you. His wrath didn’t hurt you anymore, it couldn’t.

Toby swore he could have felt the last bit of basic common sense alongside the last pinch of emotional stability left inside of him fading right then and there. Slipping from his grasp as he was clutching together excuses to desperately try and get himself somewhat in the clear, to not have the realisation of his actions setting in.

No. He wouldn't be able to handle it

This wasn’t his doing. No- nonono he has always told himself he had everything under control. It COULDN’T possibly be his own doing.

He’d never meant to ...

Yet despite these protests profusely swirling around in his head, slowly having it drag itself more into insanity, the axe was right there. Clutched in his own shaky hands with the oh-so-familiar dark red substance dripping from them. In fact, his own entire being was soaked in blood from head to toe. Creating a dried up pattern on the fabric he was wearing.

Was it his own?

Despite the constant weak state you managed to be in, how low in power you were compared to him; you never failed to catch him by surprise when still managing to put up the slightest bit of a fight, often even shedding blood yourself, his blood. Even as time passed, you should have clearly gotten the hint by now that struggling against your capturer, your abuser, did absolutely nothing for the both of you.

It caused you yet more and more harm. But much to Toby’s irritation, you never gained the desire to lower this stubborn behaviour of yours. Continuously keeping up your nagging nature, almost like you were trying to make him snap with no questions asked in the matter. Your motives were foreign to him, even questioning himself if you even had any to begin with. Heck, everything you once seemed to hold a liking torwards was either destroyed to bits, crumbled on the streets for the passersby to find or dead;

So, why?? Was tormenting him truly that important to you?

Muttering nonsense to himself and still being as shaky as ever, Toby dragged his now numb legs across the floor in a sad attempt to get the situation in hand, to get closer to you.

Still, a part of him couldn’t help but feel hesitant, his racing mind still not seeming to have left the state of shock he’s been in for the past hours. He was very much aware by now that your life had been taken this night. Taken in a brutal act of fury.

You weren't there anymore.

the axe slid right onto the cold floor, the metal leaving a clunk sound that echoed clamorously along the room as his body now realised how heavy the pressure on his arms had actually been.

Weakly he started counting down the reasons on how and most importantly, why this could have happened in the first place. He knew how massively petty you could be at times, but this was FAR from the wishes of his main desires.

This should never have happened.

He loved you.

It shouldn’t have.

He loved you. Helovedyouhelovedyouhelovedyouheneededyo---

He completely set his current thoughts to a stop for a good minute at that one. Needing you.

What did that even mean?

He knew he held you in massively high priority, he adored you even, but. Even that sentence in itself caught him off guard. His head had been over flooding for sure, it all just felt void-like, not real.

All he was left with now were his own heartbeats growing their ways into his ears as the organ was struggling to keep itself at bay, the strange yet all too familiar hollowness he felt in the deepest pits of his stomach and the liquid that has unconsciously been falling from his now blurry eyes.

He bit his cheek until blood was drawn from them, fighting back a choked sob as he crouched down to the bloody mess in front of him. Gently stroking your cheek with his knuckles, he flinched at how cold it actually was. The sensation of suffocation in his throat having reduplicated itself in a way he doesn't wish to remind himself of, clenching his jaws at how difficult it had become to keep in his whimpering. But enough of his tears were being shed for sure. And to make matters worse, the usual lack of emotion burned into your expression you’ve had ever since he’s been holding you hostage was now gone.

Instead, the frown Toby had been forced to grow used to was now formed into a soft smile instead. It was small, but unquestionably there. You were safe now, making peace with the outcome that had been created for your life. The outcome created by the absolute greed of another.

The outcome he had made for you.

This realisation he had tried to deny so damn badly had finally hit him, hard.

He quit fighting, the walls he created as a defence mechanism crumbling completely. Giving in as the overwhelming emotions that had been building up finally came to a releasing end. His usual mockery demeanor had been thrown out of the window once and for all, as all he managed to shriek out now were rushed apologies while just pleading for your living form. Just begging to hear your breathing for one last time. You seemed so small. Had you always been like this?

Please come back... please...

Hands were clinging onto the little bits of what was left of your body like his life depended on it. Big chunks of flesh were hanging from the body parts of your figure, laying limp against his own with his weak grip being yet as needy as ever, tears streaming out like a waterfall and unsteady breaths forcing their ways out into the crook of your neck. He had nothing to say anymore, the room instead being filled with high-pitched sobbing and convulsive gasps coming from nobody but himself.

God, he could have heard you call him pathetic right on the spot.

And that thought of you alone was enough to force a muffled screech out of him as his grasp grew only stronger, his veins being filled with nothing but desperation and grief; The constant loop he was in, slowly but actively breaking him down entirely. Your faint words out of memory repeating themselves over and over again.

And that smile.

That damned smile of yours being left to haunt the back of his mind.

Oh how that little motivation of yours had become clear to him now . . .

[hzbinnerdlover]

Porn Star Love

(Yes I'm immediately writing after posting- I can't help it I'm bored lol let's see how long it takes me this time. Usual snz kink warnings blah blah blah let's get to the good shit)

"Eh'shuuuue!!!"

"Gesundheit"

"Ah'chiiieeeeeew!!!"

"Gesundheit, again."

"Heh...heh...AH'SHIEEEEEEW!!"

"Gesundheit- Bless you, Jesus", Vox sighs as he reaches into his pocket and fishes out a handkerchief, handing it to his lover. "Summer Allergies are hitting you hard aren't they? You sure you're gonna be okay to work?"

Valentino quickly snatches the handkerchief and rolls eyes and gives a very congested reply. "Des- I'll be f'dine Vox. I don't exactly have a choice now do I?" He gives a huff as he blows heavily into the piece of fabric, more than once. Once he's finished he folds rhe cloth and hands it back to Vox, who promptly puts it into his pocket again.

"Alright, just don't go too wild in there okay?", the elevator door opens and the two overlord step out, Vox reaching up to kiss Val on the cheek. "I'll see you later, love you hon." He gives a smile as he walks off towards his office to work.

Val sighs as he rolls eyes, heading to set rather annoyed as another itch comes in. "O-Oh you gotta- ACHEEW! Be fucking- ASHIEEEW! Kidding me. Ugh....", with a damp sniffle he walks in and crosses his arms. "Please tell me everyone is here and ready to work?" Glancing around he notices that one notable fluffy spider wasn't here, his antenna twitching in annoyance.

"Where. Is. Angel? Someone better fucking answer me!!!!"

Travis gave a small squeak as he gulps and nods. "Um- he's getting ready still sir...he says he'll be out soon." Facepalming hard Val gives a much louder groan. "Fucking ANGEL!" Storming off towards his dressing room he rubs his irritated nose and knocks on the door loudly. "ANGEL! I swear your hot ass better be fucking ready or I'm gonna-" he stops mid sentence when the door opens and the spider demon reveals himself wearing one of his usual slutty outfits, crossing his arms.

"Jeez will you calm your tits, I'm here okay-? I'm assuming the set is read-", looking at Val's face and sees the bright red coming from Val's nose and blinks, wondering what happened. "Um- it's ready right?"

"Yes Angel, it's BEEN ready. And you weren't. So let's get a fucking move on!" Sniffling rapidly he feels the itch coming again and shakes his head. "Not again- Hi'shuu! Hi'shuu! HICK'SHEEEEW!!!!"

"Oh jeez- bless ya Val"

"Heh-HEH'ZZZUUU! EH'CHIIEEEEW!!!!"

".....um, bless y-"

"HA'SHEEEEW!!!", sniffling desperately he rolls his sleeve slightly over his hand, sneezing into it as tho his life depended on it. "Wh-Why do I- ACK'CHUUUU!!! KI'SHUUUU!! Have to suffer through this?"

Finally took a moment to catch a breath through the sneezing chaos, rubbing his head as he felt a headache start to form.

"Bless you- lemme guess. Allergies?"

Val simply nods. "Allergies. And it's fucking hell." Angel gave hum a sympathetic look as he reached over and gently caressed his arm. "Oh you poor thing...do you want me to get you some tissues...? You sound like you need to blow your nose hon."

Sniffling again Val gives another nod. "Dat would be wonderful Andel Cakes, than- Heh-HI'SHUUUU! Eugh. Excuse me. Gracias." Angel nods and quickly rushes into his dressing room, coming back with a travel pack of tissues and hands Val a few.

"There ya are, I always make sure to keep a few packs handy, so I got plenty more if ya need them." Val takes the tissues and empties his sinuses with a loud blow and a sigh of relief. "That's so much better. Thank you."

"Hey of course", Angel says as he gently rubs Val's fluff* Why don't we go back to set, but you only br there to observe today. Sit back and let Travis take over today, okay? I'll even be your own personal assistant today~" he chuckles as he goes and rubs his chest gently. "Come on daddy, what do you say hm? Sound good...?"

Val glances down at him and gives a chuckle and nods. "Alright alright, I suppose we could today. I'm to tired to really use my voice. Besides, how could I not when you're being so...so convincing...I-" quickly Val looks away and hides face into the tissues in his hand. "A'SHIIIIEEEEEW!!!! HA'SHOOOO!!! I-IP'SHIEEEEEW!!!!" Giving a couple tired sniffles he groans wiping his nose with the now soaked tissues.

"Bless you there toots, here. Lemme take those off your hands", Angel insists as he carefully takes the used tissues, walking inside the dressing room to toss them out. He then takes his hand and smiles softly.

"Come on, let's get you to a seat here." He says as he starts dragging Val back to the set, immediately sitting him in the director's chair. Val immediately slumps down and leans back against it, watching as Angel instructs Travis to do the directing today.

The constant itch just wouldn't leave him alone, and having too big of a sneezing fit on set just wasn't gonna do for him. Fighting back as much as he can he raises his coat/fluff over his face and tries to stifle. "H'ssh! H'ssh! H'ssh!", resulting in high pitched, squeaky sneezes. Luckily he was a good distance away so no one could really notice.

As the next few shots started to get taken, he did his best to observe closely, doing what he could to ignore his pounding and itchy sinuses, massaging them with his fingers before retreating his face back into his coat.

"H-H'sssh! H'sssh! H'sssh! Ugh..." unable to hide the damp sniffle Angel finally glanced down and eyes widen. "Val? You good there hon...?"

Val gave a nod as he let out a small congested cough. "Y-Yeah fine- just a bit itchy in here is all-", he holds up a finger to give him a moment, hiding back into his coat. "H'sssh! H'ssssh!"

Angel stared for a moment as he listened to the high pitched stifled sneezes, trying his best not to laugh as he covered his mouth. "Oh my god- pfffft- that has the be the cutest thing I've ever heard."

"Hey! Don't fucking laugh at me you bitch!"

"Haha- I'm sorry I'm sorry I'll stop. Lemme see if we have any allergy meds okay? I'll be right back", he leans down and gives Val a kiss on the cheek before quickly rushing off.

Val rolled his eyes as he looked at the scene going on, trying to focus on thus hot bdsm scene as he shakes his head.

"God fucking-" he mutters to himself before hiding in his coat once again. "H-H'sssh! H'ssssh!" The stifling was getting harder and harder to control. "F-Fuuuck...H'sssh! H-H'SSSSSH! H'SSSSSH!!!!" He hears Travis call cut as he looked around.

"Uuuuh, anyone else hear that high pitch sound?", the crew started looking around for the source as they finally turned to Val's direction. "H-Heh...H-H'SSSSSH! Don't you fucking stare at me. What are you looking at! H-Heh-HE'CHIEEEEW!!! HECK'SHIEEEEW!!" Unable to hold back he brought his sleeve to his face and sneezed again. "HIP'SSHUUUUUU!!!! Ugh...."

Travis blinks for a moment before nodding. "Oh um- Gesundheit Mr.Valentino sir"

Val only nodded in response as he laid back, exhausted from the fit as Angel finally returns with the meds. "Here are are, let's have ya take these yeah?" Leaning he hands it to Val, who immediately swallow the pills dry as he groans.

"I don't think I can- SNF- do this. Angel, will you take me back to my room. My head hurts so bad..."

With a softened look he nods and quickly takes out some more tissues for Val. "Yeah of course babe, come on. Let's get going." Val nods as he takes rhe tissues and blows his nose again, groaning as Angel carefully steadies him. "We're gonna getcha a nice bath for your sinuses, maybe turn on a humidifier, I'll getcha some warm tea, and you can just relax all day there hon", Angel cooed as he gently massaged Val's fluff, the poor overlord simply giving a nod.

"Mmm....sounds nice. The rest of you better get back to fucking work. I'll let you know when I'm ready to come back", he announces as Angel starts walking him off.

"Ugh...thank you Angel, for taking care of your poor...poor daddy here. It means so much to me here."

"Of course of course Val, like I said, I can take care of you all day today if you need me to. I'll make sure you-" he stops for a moment as Val turns away. "I-IP'SHIEEEEEW! A-AH'CHUUUU!! Ugh....SNF excuse me"

"Bless you- like I was saying", he continues as they step into the elevator and gives a soft smile while dabbing Val's nose with a tissue. "I'll make sure you're resting as much as you need to."

(Edit- this took me almost a week cause again I've been busy as Hell TvT I'm so sorry- I hope yall enjoy at least- I know I had fun writing this one.)

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸 (I love this one, if it isn’t obvious!)

216 SENTENCES GOOD LORD. I am SO HAPPY you're loving it. So as to not post an entire chapter here at once, I will be posting chunks.

ANYONE READING THIS BEWARE OF SPOILERS. I will post particularly spoiler heavy chunks under the cut.

23 sentences:

---

“Do you want to see her?” Bobby asks. “She… She could use a friend, too.”

Buck’s impulse is to open his mouth and say no. This house is under quarantine. No more in or out until Chris comes home. Prevent the spread of anything that could fuck up their chances, like information or awareness. But clearly you tell Eddie to stay put and he’s creeping up in doorways, anyway.

“What do you want, Eddie?” Buck asks. 

“I’d like to see her, yeah.” Eddie says. “If that’s okay.”

Bobby smiles. “I’ll arrange something with Athena, then. All safe. All confidential. I promise.”

Buck exhales. 

He trusts him. It’s Bobby. Of course he trusts him.

Maybe he can finally act on that again. 

---

90 sentences:

---

Eddie confronts Buck not long after Bobby leaves.

He’s feeling tired. Exceptionally tired. Digesting a larger meal than he’s had in ages, and talking more than he has in just as long, is taking its toll on him. That plus the sunlight filtering through the windows, and Eddie needs a nap.

But he needs to talk to Buck first more. 

Sophia has come and gone, dropping off the errands she grabbed, and heading to an afternoon shift at the library. Not before threatening to kill Eddie if he left while she was working, though. Eddie has assured her he will be here when she returns. He’s glad for her brief absence, however. He needs to do the rest of this alone. 

“Can we talk for a minute?” Eddie asks, while Buck empties a hamper into the laundry machine. 

“Sure,” Buck nods. “What’s up?” 

As if it’s any other day. Buck has to know what’s up.

“You destroyed your life looking for me,” Eddie says. 

Buck freezes for a second. Then, he finishes loading the laundry, puts in the detergent, and starts the cycle. 

“Not so much,” he eventually says. “Just… Temporarily.”

“Still,” Eddie protests.

Buck turns his body to look at him. “What do you want me to say, Eddie?”

“I don’t know.” Eddie admits. “I’m worried for you.”

Buck’s jaw drops. “You’re worried for me?” 

“Yes,” Eddie frowns.

“Eddie, you fucked off to god knows where for over half a year and won’t say a word about it,” Buck reminds him. “I’m worried about you.” 

Yeah, well that’s a fair shout.

“Are the two mutually exclusive?” Eddie challenges.

Buck thinks. His expression softens a bit.

“I guess not.”

“I don’t want to hide things from you but it’s hard to talk about and I can’t remember all of it,” Eddie says. “And also I’m exhausted. Really, truly exhausted, Buck. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no… Eddie, I’m not mad.”

“You can be.” Eddie shakes his head. “You can be mad. I’d be mad.”

“I just missed you. I missed you and I was worried for you.” Buck says. “I didn’t know if you were dead.”

“I missed you, too, you know?” Eddie says. “You and Chris. I just kept thinking about getting myself back, and…”

And coming home to them.

“And what?” Buck whispers, hopeful.

“I wanted my family back,” Eddie says, just as quietly. “Before, I… I spent so much time thinking about what I lost, and what I was supposed to have. But I really lost everything, Buck. I died. I lost my whole life. My kid. My job. You. I had so much.”

“You still have me,” Buck says firmly. “And Chris will be home soon. We will figure out how to make it work so you don’t lose him over this again. I swear, Eddie.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says. “Thank you for all that you’ve done for me. And for Chris.”

“I’d do it all again, Eddie. I’d do it tenfold.” Buck’s eyes are glistening. “I’d do anything.”

Eddie remembers Buck’s lips a hair’s breadth away from his own. He remembers how it felt to be held by him. Touched by him. He craves it again. 

“Anything?” Eddie asks. 

“Yes.” 

“I have something,” Eddie blurts, feeling stupid. “Something else, on top of everything.”

“Name it,” Buck says. 

---

26 sentences:

---

“How much do we tell them?” Eddie asks on the drive. He’s in the passenger seat of the Jeep. Another missing home brought back to him.

“That’s up to you, Eddie.” Buck sighs. “Maybe we suss it out when we’re there?”

Eddie nods. “I want to trust people if I can. The people I trusted here, before.” 

Not his parents. Which means, they can’t tell Pepa either. Or Abuela. Or Adriana. That still weighs heavily on him. 

Lots of things weigh heavily on him. 

“I know you’re scared,” Eddie continues. 

“Yeah,” Buck admits. “I keep feeling like someone’s going to take you from me. Or I’ll wake up and have let something slip and suddenly Chris won’t be coming back.”

There’s a brutal honesty in his words that makes Eddie shudder. He’s glad though. Glad Buck is opening up more. They seemed to have crossed some sort of barrier with each other. 

“It’s not all on you,” Eddie says. 

He’s not sure Buck hears him.  

---

36 sentences:

---

“It’s stupid,” Eddie tells him. 

“Name it,” Buck repeats. 

“I’m tired,” Eddie says again. “And… And I don’t want to be alone anymore. I was alone for so long.” 

Buck’s eyes widen with understanding. He nods quickly. 

“I can do that. I can help.”

Eddie swallows thickly. 

“I’d get it… If you weren’t comfortable. With what I am. If you don’t want to-”

Buck steps forward, shaking his head, and raises a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek. The gesture is so strangely intimate that it takes Eddie’s breath away. 

“It’s just you.” He says. “I’ve always wanted to be close to you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s entire body feels so insubstantial, that if Buck took his hand away, he might just crumble to dust. He leans his cheek into Buck’s touch. He imagines if he were braver, and less tired, and more sure of himself, he would close the distance between them. That small sliver of distance that parted their lips last night. 

I love you, he wants to say. Strip away my whole life, everything that I am, and that love still burnt like a flame. 

Buck must notice Eddie’s hesitation. He steps forward and loops an arm around Eddie’s back, then guides him towards the bedroom. 

“Let’s go to sleep,” he says. “I didn’t really get much last night.”

“Careful. Next you’ll be accused of vampirism,” Eddie mumbles. 

Buck exhales a breath of laughter and squeezes Eddie a little.

“Eh, well. I’ve been accused of worse in the past twenty-four hours.”

There’s something regretful in his tone, but Eddie is too sleepy to latch onto it. Instead, he allows himself the comfort of being led into his bedroom, and collapsing onto the bed, and falling asleep with the sound of Buck’s heartbeat directly under his ear.

---

15 sentences:

---

Eddie feels more at ease than he’s felt in a long time driving with Buck to May’s apartment. Not that there’s a particular reason for it. Things aren’t good. He’s still facing all the same shit he was facing before. He still doesn’t have his kid. He still is facing being a social pariah and more or less a fugitive. He can’t exist, or they lose Chris. That’s all still a huge fucking problem. 

But he is well rested and well fed and he has Buck. Buck who slept next to him all yesterday afternoon. And then again overnight. Buck who has continued to hold him softly when he needs to be held. Buck, who still hasn’t kissed him the way he almost did, but who Eddie feels might. Eventually. If he’s honest about not caring about what Eddie is.

---

26 sentences:

---

Eddie actually helped Bobby and Athena move May’s stuff into her apartment when she first moved out of the house. As had Buck. So he’s a little surprised when the address Bobby sends them takes them somewhere else. Somewhere quieter, more out of the way. A little rough looking, but not too bad. 

“This doesn’t seem like the kind of place that would meet Athena’s stamp of approval,” Eddie observes. He remembers Bobby saying she’d driven May crazy with how picky she was about location and safety.

“Hmm,” Buck muses. “Some of these places have landlords that won’t ask questions. Neighbors going through the same shit. Plus, everywhere is dangerous for her these days.”

The, and for you, goes without saying. 

They park and climb a flight of stairs, knocking on the door to apartment 2E. 

He hears some shuffling on the other side of the door. Someone looking through a peephole. Fair enough. Then, the latch slides, the door opens, and none other than Sergeant Athena Grant is ushering them inside quickly. She’s dressed in plain street clothes; nondescript, like she’d hope not to be noticed if she stepped outside. Unfortunately, Eddie doesn’t really think Athena is the sort of woman you don’t notice. 

She doesn’t even really acknowledge them until the door is shut behind them again. Once it is, she exhales, and turns to Eddie. 

“God, it is good to see you,” she mutters, stepping forward to hug him. 

Eddie squeezes her gratefully. Every new person who doesn’t think he’s a monster comes as an immense relief.

[the-french-belphegor]

I finished another fic for the @critter-genfic-events's bingo card! "Beach day", this time. I swear I did mean it to be funny and only funny, but then it was also Vox Machina post-campaign, so "Missing someone" ended up being A Thing. Plus "Found family" because that's unavoidable when Grog and his gnomes are concerned 💜

I'll be posting this on AO3 shortly here if you prefer to read on AO3!

—

Grog wiggles sand between his toes and squints at the Marquet sun shining through a passing cloud.

“Oh man,” he hears Scanlan sigh from the chaise lounge thing next to him, “this is the life.”

Meh, Grog thinks, just a little.

Sure, it’s a nice day out, and it’s great that they finally got everyone for a little vacation weekend in the Bay of Gifts – even Keyleth, who’s very busy being leaderly, and even Vex and Percy, who have their hands full with Whitestone but mostly with little Vesper. (Grog still calls her ‘Whisper’, because it became A Thing, and to be fair she’s a fairly quiet kid, in his meagre experience.) Now the girl is napping with her dad under the shade of the parasol after burying Grog into the sand (with helpful pointers from her mum, her uncle Grog and her auntie Keyleth) and playing in the shallows with her auntie Pike and her uncle Scanlan. That’s a lot of things to do, and the little mite is all tuckered out. So’s mostly everyone, it seems, except for Trinket, who is having fun chasing seagulls in the distance.

And Grog is slowly but surely getting bored.

Of course, that’s the moment his insides choose to give a twinge at the lack of Vax shenanigans. One of the many things Grog misses about the guy is that you’d never get bored when he was around. Sometimes not getting bored meant getting half your beard shaved off or various belongings stolen for a prank, but… well.

Pike, Wilhand and Scanlan all say that it’s normal to still be sad about Vax even now. Privately, Grog wonders if it’s stupid to miss some of the truly infuriating things Vax did, like the beard thing. He has a feeling the answer would be “no”, but there’s no way in hell he’ll ask.

“Hey Pike!” he calls out, mostly to distract himself from the oncoming boredom but also from being sad on what’s supposed to be a fun day out. “Wanna go fight the sea?”

Pike is in the process of gathering Vesper’s discarded beach toys and eyeing Percy – who is currently fast asleep near his daughter – with Vesper’s shovel in her hand and a gleam in her eye. Just as Grog is starting to think pranking Percy might be a good distraction as well, she turns to him and grins.

“Sure, buddies. How d’you wanna do that?”

“I was thinkin’ I could walk into the waves and just, like, not budge. Or put you on my shoulder and then see how far we can go till you get splashed.”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds nice,” she says, nodding. “Scanlan? Wanna come with?”

“Eh,” says Scanlan from under the hat covering his face, “I had my share of the ocean earlier. Might work on my tan for a little bit.”

“Come on,” says Grog, because the first time they took a beach holiday Scanlan wasn’t there and their second trip to Dalen’s Closet was, well, A Lot – way too much to just let loose and have fun afterwards, “I have two shoulders. That’s one for Pike, and one for you. It’s huh. Balance.”

(He’s really proud to be able to say a number and not hesitate even a bit. Long sentences with lots of letters still elude him, but he’s starting to know numbers well.)

One of Scanlan’s eyes peeks out from under the hat, along with a smile.

“Aw, big guy. Okay, for balance then, but on one condition.”

“What’s that?” asks Pike with something sharp in her grin, like she really wants to laugh but she’s saving that for a better moment.

“My hair stays dry.”

“That’s it?” says Grog, eyebrows raised. He was expecting something a lot less simple.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

That sounds pretty fair, so Grog agrees.

So maybe walking into the surf isn’t quite fighting an entire ocean, but the three of them manage to make it fun, just like Grog thought they would. Pike stands on his left shoulder, hanging on to his head, and shouts at every wave just as loud as he does; meanwhile, Scanlan sits on his right shoulder, beating a rhythm on his chest with his toes and humming a vaguely familiar tune. There may be something magical at work there, because Grog is feeling a tingling warmth along his spine and into his ribcage, like they’re in the middle of a battle and Scanlan is singing to give him inspiration. That’s nice of him to do that. Maybe it’ll give Grog and Pike an edge.

(Even wearing no armour at all and with waves rolling up to his chest, Grog always feels just a little invincible with those two on his shoulders.)

“You know what, Grog?” says Pike after a while, settling down on his shoulder and grinning at him, her cheeks red and her chest heaving. “That was really fun. I think we could all do with some screaming at the ocean once in a while.”

“Seconded,” says Scanlan, who didn’t do any shouting and mostly either chilled with his eyes closed or looked at Pike like he does sometimes, all soft eyes and slight smile.

Pike gets the same sort of look every now and then. It’s this kind of little details that tells Grog that one of these days the guest bedroom in Wilhand’s attic might become a real guest bedroom again (that and the fact that dawn often finds Pike and Scanlan tiptoeing out of each other’s room). As long as they keep most of the lovey dovey stuff out of sight Grog is fine with it.

“Well, I’m smart like that,” says Grog with a grin, like a joke where only he knows the punchline. Which is kinda the case, actually, if the joke is The little bits are dating and Grog did notice. “I got lots of good ideas.”

Scanlan leans his back against Grog’s head and nods.

“You sure do, buddy. And you guys definitely win in my book. Eat your heart out, ocean!”

“Hey guys!” They all turn – which means the gnomes have to turn a second time because they’re facing the wrong way now – to the beach, where Vex is standing with her hands cupped around her mouth. “Keyleth says there might be some jellyfish in the water by now, have you seen any yet?”

“Some what?” asks Grog, and promptly steps on something squishy.

It’s like walking into a bramble bush. The sole of his foot is fine, but tendrils sneak up his ankle and fire up a prickling pain that instantly runs up his whole leg. The surprise, more than the actual sting, makes him bark a shout and instinctively jump back, but this is uncomfortable as hell.

His shoulders suddenly feel somewhat lighter. Oh shit, he thinks with a flash of fear, old habits taking over, Scanlan should float but Pike’s in heavy armour, she’ll go straight down—

But they’re on vacation, not adventuring – no weapons, no plate armour, just sun hats and bathing suits. When he whirls around he spots Pike easily treading water not far from his elbow. The waves rolling in towards the beach make her go up and down, but she’s completely unfazed.

“You okay, Grog?” she asks, looking a little startled, and Grog isn’t even sure if that’s from being thrown off her perch or on his account.

“Sure,” says Grog, not that sure. “Except, uh, question. Can people die from jellyfish?”

“Well,” says Pike reasonably, “that depends on the jellyfish. I saw some really big ones on the Broken Howl, like big big. But the ones around here just burn a little.” Then her eyes zero in on something ahead of her and her nose crunches. “Yikes. Yeah, you can tell Vex Keyleth was right, look.”

The first and last time Grog saw a jellyfish, it was in Vesrah. Two kids were poking a small blob with a stick until their father told them to stop. What’s floating close to the surface five feet from them is still a blob, but it’s got long thin tentacly things that look like a bunch of transparent seaweed. They’re trailing underneath like it doesn’t know what to do with them. It’s creepy, and it’s weird to think these are why his ankle and calf are stinging like he kicked through embers without a boot on.

Grog scoops Pike up, holds her up out of the water, and makes his way to the beach, trusting Scanlan to meet them there.

When he’s close enough to talk without shouting, he tells Vex, who’s been watching them curiously, “Yeah, maybe don’t let lil’ Whisper into the water just now. There’s at least a couple of the suckers out there. I even got bit, look.”

“Stung, Grog,” Pike corrects, hanging on tight to his arm to avoid toppling over when he lifts his foot. Oops. “Jellyfish don’t bite.”

Vex throws him a look, complicated and quick – worried-sharp-relieved – then grins.

“You know, I’ve heard you can treat a jellyfish burn by having someone pee on it. Not that I’m volunteering, but perhaps if you ask—”

It’s the way she says it. Something flashes in Grog’s mind, like he’s realised something isn’t right but his brain is taking a while to catch up on what, exactly. (It happens.) It’s not that it’s wrong for her to say that – although in the old days Grog wouldn’t have put it past Vax to bring it up instead – so much as she shouldn’t have been the first to say it.

Fortunately, Pike’s brain works much better and faster than his. Her eyes go wide real quick and she exclaims, “Wait – where’s Scanlan?”

A small sliver of cold creeps its way up Grog’s spine. Oh. Shit.

“Didn’t he swim to shore?”

“He didn’t,” says Vex, tense and sharp once more, but worse, like she used to just before a fight. “I would’ve seen him.”

“Well, he has to be somewhere, he can’t just – oh gods no.”

Pike’s voice goes sideways on the last word like someone tripping and falling down a flight of stairs. Grog looks into the same direction and goes cold all over.

There is a shape bobbing along in the water a little ways behind the waves crashing onto the beach.

Grog runs.

He does kind of end up fighting the sea for real today after all.

When he reaches Scanlan, what feels like the next second but also so much time later, the gnome is floating belly down just under the surface of the water. His arms and legs drift a little in the current, like the jellyfish’s tentacle things did. It looks so much creepier. But not as creepy as the way Scanlan lies completely still when Grog picks him up, arms and legs at odd angles like his limbs and joints are missing strings. Both his eyelids and his lips are a little bit blue.

At least there’s no blood. It would bring back real bad memories if there was blood. Well, it does, because this is not the first time Grog’s carried his second best little buddy cold and lifeless like that, but the absence of blood makes it a bit easier to push those memories away.

Pike takes charge as Grog limps out of the water, white seafoam frothing around his calves. Her face is nearly as pale.

“Lay him down,” she says, her voice steel under the usual warmth, and Grog does. He watches her press her ear to Scanlan’s chest, tip his head back, open his mouth, and blow into it. And look, Grog usually doesn’t like it much when they start getting kissy and too wrapped up in each other, but it’s the last thing he’d mind right now. This is the worst kiss he’s ever seen. He’s not even sure it counts as one.

Pike lays her hands flat on Scanlan’s chest and her arms find a steady rhythm – “…three four five six come on eight nine ten—” and Grog winces when he hears something crack. Pike with her gauntlets and her mace and the Blessing of the Everlight is strong, second only to Grog in strength in Vox Machina, but even without she’s a force to be reckoned with. Scanlan’s going to feel that when he wakes up. If he wakes up.

They can’t lose somebody else that’s theirs. They can’t.

Sometimes people go and you never get them back, Grog remembers Kerrek say to Keyleth once, that time Scanlan was dead and Grog spent a very complicated few hours grappling with the fact that all those powerful spellcasters couldn’t bring him back right now. Kerrek had looked surprised way before that when Grog had told him that when someone died, they just brought them back. Like that was usually not the way of things. Like sometimes even people you knew and loved a whole lot just died, and that was it, no Revivify spell, no resurrection.

Grog hadn’t really understood that before Vax died and then became feathers.

If Scanlan dies now, for real, is he going to become feathers, too?

Just as the terror starts to give way into rage – that’s always been Grog’s default way of handling things like that, mostly – Scanlan’s body gives a lurch and he upchucks more liquid than Grog’s ever seen him down in one go in all their years of tavern hopping.

The next second he hears Keyleth yell, “Turn him on his side!”

She’s motioning the water out of Scanlan’s lungs with her hands even as she’s full-on running towards them, spraying sand where her feet hit the beach. In the distance, Vex talks urgently to Percy sitting up next to Vesper before following her, almost as fast.

By the time she’s standing nearby, Keyleth is drawing out the last of the water and replacing it with air with complex arm gestures, long fingers flexing fluidly. The second she’s done, Pike flips Scanlan on his back again and smacks her hands flat on his chest with a flash of intense light that makes Grog see bright spots for a while. A heartbeat later, Scanlan is coughing and retching as if it would make more sense for his insides to be outside. Between dry heaves he takes big gulps of air that sound painful.

But at least he’s breathing.

Grog’s knees suddenly feel like jellyfish tentacles. Sea salt burns in his eyes, and wiping them doesn’t really help. He spares one furious thought towards the ocean – I still won, motherfucker, you don’t get to keep him, just a fleeting remnant of rage – before sitting down on the sand a lot more abruptly than he means to.

From there he catches some soft whispers, some in Gnomish he doesn’t understand, some in Common he does – “It’s okay, you’re okay”, “Slow down, deeper breaths”, and “I know, sorry about your ribs, babe, hold on a sec” – as well as the faint glow from Pike’s fingers as she runs her hand gently along Scanlan’s back. Scanlan’s breaths do come easier after that. (So do Grog’s, incidentally.) He still looks a wreck, though, his soaked curls all over the place, ashen-faced under his tan and half covered in a fine layer of sand. So much for keeping his hair dry. Oops.

“Are you gonna be okay?” asks Keyleth, her voice trembling just a little.

“What the hell happened?” Vex’s voice sounds clipped and almost angry, so sharp it could cut through diamonds but also kinda like it could break if she wasn’t careful. It only does that when things get bad.

Scanlan blinks up at her; he looks at Pike, at Keyleth, and at Grog, and blinks again.

“Good… question?”

It’s because of the jellyfish, Grog realises, and only notices he’s said that aloud when everyone turns their eyes to him. He concentrates hard on not voicing the niggling doubt that it’s his fault more than the jellyfish’s. The squish and the burn might have startled him, but letting both gnomes fall was on him alone. And that… that sucks. A lot.

Pike helps Scanlan sit up, one hand in his and the other still on his back.

“We were just messing around. Grog stepped on a jellyfish – by the way, you okay, buddy?”

“Yeah,” says Grog, even though his ankle still burns a lot, kinda, because he’s – they’ve all – gone through way worse during battles. Fortunately they’re not battling anyone, so Pike still has plenty of magic, and he almost immediately feels the familiar warmth of a Heal spell down to his toes. The next second the red welts on his skin are gone. “Thanks, Pike. And, uh… sorry for getting your hair wet, Scanlan.”

“That’s… a way of putting it, I guess,” mutters Vex.

Scanlan stops brushing wet sand off his face, still looking a little dazed. He looks up (and up, and up) at Grog and waves off the apology with a slightly shaking hand.

“Eh, it’s fine. I probably should’ve told you I can’t swim in the first place.”

Everyone stares at him in a stunned silence that Keyleth finally breaks.

“Wait,” she exclaims, “you can’t swim?”

Scanlan gives half a shrug. “Just never learned, I guess. And I learned Polymorph years ago, so I can just turn into something that swims better than I ever would anyway.”

That does nothing to placate Keyleth, whose voice climbs straight up.

“But – how did we not know that?!”

“It never came up!” protests Scanlan, eyes wide, almost defensive.

“How the hell did that never come up?”

“Guys.” Pike’s voice is clear and sharp; it’s not brittle like Vex’s was, but it’s a fine edge that slices easily through the rising tension before it turns back into her usual soothing tones. “Thank you,” she says to the two women. She opens her mouth, closes it again, and finally just says, “You know. Just… thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Vex says in her normal voice, but her face is pretty pale for all that she just ran a bunch of yards to go get Keyleth. “And Scanlan?”

Grog almost expects him to look up and go “Oi?” with a small smile that could mean pretty much anything. But he just looks up at Vex and doesn’t smile. His eyebrows go up a bit.

“A soon as we can find a body of water that doesn’t have waves in it –”

“Or jellyfish,” adds Grog, whose takeaway of the misadventure is that those things are more dangerous than ocean waves. One corner of Vex’s mouth twitches.

“– or jellyfish, we are teaching you how to swim, darling. And that is non-negotiable.”

Scanlan’s face is still a bit white, his voice still a bit raw when he nods and says, “Understood.”

“I mean it. I hope you can handle a crash course.”

“Well,” says Scanlan, sounding a little more normal, “you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks, but I—” Vex’s eyes glint, “—yep, okay, swimming lesson, no prob.”

Vex flashes a satisfied smirk, but it only stays up for a second. The next moment she’s hugging Scanlan, and it’s over just as quickly before she mutters, “I’d better go and inform Percy that nobody died, thank the gods…”

And it’s like Grog can hear the ‘nobody else’ hidden in that sentence, clear as day.

After she leaves, Scanlan looks at Keyleth with one of those smiles that mean he’s being serious.

“Thanks, Kiki. You know, you’re pretty awesome.”

Keyleth looks less spooked now. She gives a short snort of a laugh and unfolds her long lean body from where she’s sitting on the sand.

“Yeah, well. I spent a long time learning these spells, so. I’m glad you’re okay, Scanlan,” she adds in a softer voice before following Vex.

It’s when her back is turned and she’s a few feet away that Pike – who’s been so still Grog almost expected her to start vibrating – grabs Scanlan by the shoulders and then throws her arms around him. Doesn’t kiss him, just goes straight for a tackling hug that seems to drive the air from his lungs (again).

“I thought you’d Dimension Doored to the beach,” Grog hears her say in his hair, a little muffled, because after a second of surprise Scanlan is hugging back, just as tight. “I thought you’d swum back. You should’ve said you couldn’t, you… I should’ve checked… Holy shit, Scanlan. That was so fucking dumb.”

But she’s trembling a little as she says this, so maybe it’s not really dumb to be scared still, even though everything is okay now.

…Well, kind of okay. No matter what happens, Vax will stay dead. Which means Vex, and Keyleth, and Scanlan, and Pike, and Percy, and Tary won’t really be okay okay for a long time. They’ll still have those moments where they go quiet and still and kind of fragile, like they’re made of glass you can’t quite see through. Like Grog, when his memory betrays him and he thinks I gotta show this to Vax, or Vax will go nuts when he hears that – and then he remembers that Vax is gone and they’ll never get him back.

Maybe that’s part of why Pike is holding Scanlan so tight, and why Scanlan is murmuring to her in Gnomish looking like he just smacked his head into a wall.

And since there’s no kissing involved, just ‘holy crap you’re alive I love you you’re alive’ hugging, Grog picks up his gnomes for some hugging of his own.

The thing is… well. It’s like this. It’s Wilhand and Grog and Pike and Scanlan, living in Wilhand’s house. It’s Grog and Scanlan and Pike, going to taverns and sometimes – less often than they used to, but still sometimes – going home so smashed they can’t walk straight. It’s Pike and Grog and Scanlan going to Vasselheim via teleportation circles; Grog and Scanlan check in at the Slayer’s Take headquarters while Pike drops by the Temple of Sarenrae first, Pike and Grog fight at the Crucible while Scanlan sneaks them some inspiration from the stands, and Grog and Pike and sometimes Scanlan take a contract from the Take to kill some big beast that doesn’t hold a candle to a dragon or a god but is still fun to fight.

The thing is… Grog knows gnomes live a long time. The particulars are unclear and not really interesting to be honest. He just knows that one day, he’ll be too old to fight anything – which sucks, so he hopes it won’t last a long time – and he’ll die for good, and Pike and Scanlan will still be young compared to him. That’s not scary in itself. Grog Strongjaw has never been afraid of dying (especially not since the two halves of Kevdak’s corpse hit the cobblestones of the Westruun town square). But Grog Strongjaw has learned to fear death like he used to before he learned about resurrection spells, whether it comes from the fingertips of a snarling god or the whisper of raven wings. Revivify doesn’t always work, and it gets harder if you died and got brought back more than once. And then sometimes they’re just. Gone. (They could have lost Vex for good as well at the not-wedding a couple of years ago. Sometimes Grog looks at her playing with Vesper, or slumped against Percy with her head on his shoulder, and the thought goes through his brain and leave ice in its wake for a while.)

The thing is… They’re not always out of harm’s way, but they are safe now.

They killed dragons. They thwarted a god. They lost family. They’re entitled to safe, now, right?

None of them are allowed to die before Grog. Not for real. That would just be unfair.

(Especially because of a stupid misstep and a stupid jellyfish.)

So yeah. The gnomes hug each other, and Grog hugs his gnomes.

“Hey, Scanlan,” he says when the two break apart – slightly – and make themselves comfortable against his chest without even thinking about it, out of habit.

“Yeah?”

“Are you mad we didn’t know you can’t swim?”

Something complicated flashes across Scanlan’s face for a second, but then he shakes his head.

“I’d be mad if I’d told you and you’d forgotten,” he says, and Grog believes him.

“I wouldn’t forget a thing like that.”

“I know, bud.”

“We’re gonna teach you, anyway,” Pike points out as the three of them make their way up the beach towards the others, the towels and the parasols. “And no Polymorph allowed. You’re not cheating your way out of this one.”

“That’s not cheating, that’s just… creative thinking! Swimming is boring – why would I want to swim when I can turn into a porpoise instead?”

“Why didn’t you do that earlier, then, instead of giving us all a heart attack?”

“I was taken by surprise, obviously!”

“Wait,” says Grog, “how the hell do you turn into a purpose?”

“P-o-r-p-o-i-s-e, buddies. It’s an animal. Kinda looks like a dolphin.”

“Dolphins are usually purposeful, so that tracks.”

“You’re not helping, Scanlan.”

“Yeah, you’re not helping me cultivate my litter-a-see, Scanlan.”

Grog isn’t sure (yet) how to spell ‘literacy’ and he mostly means it as a joke anyway, but Scanlan’s whole face lights up with delight, so maybe it means he stuck the landing.

Of course this is where Vesper’s little voice pipes up to ask what ‘literacy’ means, and what’s a porpoise, and then what does a jellyfish look like, because she’s a curious little one and she loves to know things and figure things out. Scanlan spins a tale on the spot for her that only looks like what actually happened if you tilt your head and squint really hard; at some point a giant whale is involved and Pike, Vex and Keyleth swing down from an airship to save the day. Percy’s eyebrows shoot up from behind his glasses at that, Keyleth laughs, and Vex grins and takes a mock bow before returning to scratch the spot behind Trinket’s ear.

Vesper listens to Scanlan with increasing awareness that this is A Story – firmly in the land of make-believe, where no one dies, nobody is ever in real danger, and all’s well that always ends well – and gives dramatic gasps and laughs at the right places.

Pike plops Scanlan’s hat on her head and settles behind him to comb the sand and the knots out of his hair with her fingers as he talks. Sometimes she smiles the same soft little smile Scanlan had earlier, while she and Grog were screaming at the ocean.

And Grog?

Grog settles on the ground, wiggling sand between his toes, and watches his family being alive.

—

Raise your hand if you love Grog Strongjaw and his gnomes 🥰

Me a couple of months ago seeing this post:

"Ooh, that's great! Great potential for comedy!" So I jotted down these lines -

“Wait, you can’t swim!? How did we not know that?” “It never came up!” “How the hell did it never come up??

- and then a couple of months later came up with the fic above 😅

Hope you liked!

[jetiisyandereclones]

Hey! First of all, absolutely love your writing and art, it never fails to make me smile when you post.

I don’t know how to type this without sounding awkward, but I had a random platonic yandere/reader idea inspired by your yandere clone family au that I just wanted to get out of my system and figured you might enjoy.

I started thinking about Arla Fett (Jango’s older sister) in this universe. 

In case you aren’t familiar with her character here’s a quick summary: After the murder of her’s and Jango’s parents she was enslaved by the Death Watch and eventually developed an extremely damaging case Stockholm syndrome. She would act as an assassin for the death watch before being arrested. Later on a Jedi general-turned mandolorian by the name of Bardin Jussik would try to help Arla heal from her trauma but after she begged him to help her forget about it entirely, Bardin simply wiped her memory using the force. The two then fell in love and would have settled down (had order 66 not occurred).

So, then I got to thinking: what if these events happened a few years sooner so that Arla and Bardin were already settled down during the war. And how would the yandere clones react to not only having a blood related sister, but a Jedi brother-in-law, and their likely force sensitive teenager aka reader.

Let’s say the war ends and the various clone battalions are rounding up their respective Jedi but the group formerly run by Bardin Jussik wind up having trouble tracking down their long lost general who left abruptly during the war due to his issues with the Jedi council’s leadership and the republic’s approach to the war. 

They get to the point that TBB get called in to help find him.

Even after some time passes, Jussik doesn’t seem to be anywhere and most assume he’s dead as there is literally no trace of him anywhere. TBB eventually refocus their efforts on to other troublesome Jedi (Such as Kanan, Ezra, Vera Sai, and Nazra) who have at least been seen alive and well in the past decade.

Their efforts to track down the Ghost crew lead them back to Lothal since it’s a planet the Ghost returns to regularly. 

The rest of the batch spreads out to search for clues while Hunter brings the Marauder to a refuel station bc the busy marketplace gives him a headache and he just needs a little rest from constantly tracking. 

He gets there and he’s met with reader working the station who’s about three or four years older than Omega. As Hunter asks them to just refuel the ship he can’t help but notice the teen is sort of staring him down.

Expecting some kind of anti-clone sentiment or getting called sub-human he simply asks

“What never seen a clone before?”

Reader looks at him confused and Hunter suddenly remembers that Lothal never had any part in the war and most people on the planet couldn’t care less who he or his brothers were, especially now that the war was over.

Suddenly, almost like they can read his thoughts, reader starts looking embarrassed and apologetic.

“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean but…yeah I guess I have been pretty rude just staring huh?” Reader holds up a hand in front of Hunter’s face and closes one of their eyes so that they can only see the non-tattooed side of his face. “It’s just- my buir used to show me holos of my ba’vodu and I swear you look just like him. I’m probably just imagining it.”

Hunter is taken aback by the comment and is suddenly very interested in learning more about this barely paid refueling station attendant’s family. He figures the kid’s dad and uncle are deserters like Cut Laquane. Reader’s additions of some mando’a into their sentences only seems to cement his theory.

The two have a friendly conversation and Hunter finds himself amused by reader’s wide-eyed curiosity about the world outside of Lothal as it’s very reminiscent of when he first met Omega. 

Meanwhile reader is just thrilled that this starship captain is willing to answer all of their questions about his adventures across the galaxy ( Hunter leaves out the whole capturing and lovingly imprisoning all of the Jedi of course). 

Reader grew up on a farm with barely any contact with anybody aside from their parents (the other kids on Lothal find reader creepy for some reason) so speaking with Hunter is a breath of fresh air.

Reader rambles on about how boring life on the farm is and how they were lucky their parents even let them get a job in town since they’re so overprotective.

Reader winds up feeling guilty for making Hunter uncomfortable at first due to them staring at him and then info dumping on him. Eventually reader offers to pay for the Marauder’s fuel as an apology for wasting the man’s time.  

Hunter and reader wind up talking for so long that the rest of the batch come looking for their leader, only to find him lightly bickering with a kid about how it’s not necessary for them to pay for his fuel for simply looking at him a little too long.

Hunter suddenly remembers he has a duty and mission to complete and goes into leader mode, discussing with the others on where they should land the ship for the night so they have a place to stay.

Reader casually offers the empty field on their family’s farm since they wouldn’t have to pay for it like the ship docking spots in town. Reader also mentions harvest season just passed and their father has a tendency to cook an excess of food. 

Wrecker is sold on the idea immediately upon the offer of free food and begs his brothers to take up the offer.

Hunter, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair are made suspicious by the generosity and Crosshair is the one to ask what the catch is.

Reader simply made the offer in hopes of learning more about these strange off-worlders and decides to (naively) strike a deal.

“No catches, no fees. All is ask is each of you give me your best stories from your travels across the galaxy. Deal?”

The batch takes them up on their offer and soon find themselves following the kid home. As they travel, the batch all start noticing things. All of them had been around force sensitive children for some time now and had learned about the small habits that  most force sensitives had. Maybe reader answers any questions they have before the batch can even ask them. Almost like they read the batch’s minds. The batch quickly notice that reader’s reflexes are just a little too fast for a normal person. None of them really need the confirmation but Tech discretely uses a scanner to check reader’s medicloroan count and it’s a higher amount than most.

By the time the Marauder is nearing reader’s farm the entire batch knows they’re taking this kindhearted and naive little force sensitive back with them to Kamino. Now they just need to decide if they need to “take care of” reader’s family before they go.

They land and reader runs up to the house where their very confused mother is waiting in the front yard. Every member of the batch is stunned when they get a good look at reader’s mother. The woman quite literally looks exactly like an adult version of Omega. It’s almost frightening.

Reader’s mother doesn’t entirely know how to feel about the strangers (given she got her memories about the clone war wiped it’s likely she doesn’t realize they’re clones. Let alone clones of her brother)

Reader’s mother introduces herself as Arla Jussik-Fett. At the same time, Bardin steps out of the house and upon seeing the clones, freezes. 

Now, Lothal is an isolated planet, far from the republic. (Exactly the reason he chose to live there)

So Bardin had only heard whispers and warped rumors about what the clones had been doing. As far as he knew, Jedi and force sensitives found by clones were never seen again. Of course Bardin is going to assume they came to kill him and his family.

He never stopped carrying his lightsaber out of cautiousness and already has his hand on it out of instinct.

Reader notices their dad standing close-by and waved him over. 

“Buir! You’ll agree with me! Mom doesn’t agree but don’t you think these guys look like ba’vodu Jango?”  

All hell breaks loose after that.

 Clone force 99 is #shook and Bardin runs to stand between his family and the clones.

“Cyar’ika, ad’ika, go inside and lock the door.” He order, activating his lightsaber. 

Reader is VERY scared by the sudden tenseness that’s taken over. Bardin and Arla share a look and Arla quickly takes reader inside.

Bardin and the Bad Batch take a long few minutes to size one another up. After some time Bardin finally speaks.

“We will give you all one chance to turn around and walk away.”

Crosshair pops a toothpick in his mouth and takes a moment to scan the area.

“We?”

“We.” Bardin nods.

Just then the shot of a sniper rifle rings out. The end of the toothpick in Crosshair’s mouth splinters and is left charred as a blaster bolt just grazes the tip of it. The bolt doesn’t hurt a hair on the clone’s head, but is definitely WAY too close for comfort.

The batch quickly trace the origin of the shot to the front-facing window in the second story of the house where Arla is standing with a rifle pointed down at them.

Arla, despite having lived a fairly quiet and domestic life the past few years, is still a dead on shot. She was a very successful assassin for the Death Watch after all. 

Hitting the toothpick was a warning shot. Crosshair would have dropped had it not been.

“My riduur is right.” Arla shouts down from the open window. “He’s not really the one you need to be worried about.” 

Both Bardin and Arla lived difficult lives and as a result were very particular about security and protecting their home. They wanted to make it so their ad’ika could maintain their innocence. Unfortunately this resulted in reader being extremely sheltered and completely banned from learning how to use their force powers.

After a lot of struggle, Bardin and Arla manage to escape with reader by the skin of their teeth. 

So, TBB return to Kamino to share their strange news. 

They bring the name Arla Fett up to the Alpha clones and they’re vaguely aware of the name as Jango had mentioned her fondly once or twice.

The news quietly spreads around Kamino as a rumor. Some clones are absolutely enthralled by the concept of a new addition to the family. Others are cautious upon finding out Arla was once part of the Death Watch and are against the idea of bringing someone like her near their Jedi.

Some shinnies make the joke that the Fett genetics must give them a type since Arla herself married a Jedi just like so many of her brother’s clones. 

A few of the clones wonder if Arla shares their yandere tendencies. Some clones are already referring to her as Ori’vod Arla and joking about how they wonder if Bardin Jussik is good enough for their big sis. And then some clones just don’t care.

Meanwhile the squad once run by Bardin Jussik is ecstatic to find out their precious general was alive after all. WITH A WIFE NO LESS! Suffice to say they are stoked.

The news about Bardin and Arla’s force sensitive kid is far less widespread or just gets overshadowed.

Since Bardin is off the grid the clones have no idea where he would go. They ask around the Jedi on Kamino but Bardin was never very friendly with any of them. So they instead decide to see what they can find about Arla. Thanks to Emperor Vader the clones are given access to Arla’s arrest records and the subsequent psychiatric treatments she received while in prison. 

When it’s revealed that Arla was essentially enslavement by the Death Watch and used as a soldier it’s like a switch is flipped. Every last clone on Kamino suddenly realizes that the Death Watch did to Arla exactly what the Republic did to them. She really is their sister. A kindred spirit.

Cue the most quietly chaotic custody battle in history with various clone groups and individuals trying to figure out who gets to bring their dear sister and her Jedi husband home to Kamino.

It doesn’t really matter who does it bc the second she’s there she won’t be leaving. With the combined power of the entirety of Kamino it doesn’t take long to find the Jussik-Fett family.

And when they find out about reader? Their ori’vod’s precious ad’ika who’s force sensitive?!

Every single clone is obsessed and wants to be the best uncle.

Every. Single. Clone. 

(I have no idea how that would work out but I feel like the clones would find a way to organize it without completely overwhelming their ori’vod’s dear ad’ika)

Reader’s little family of three suddenly gets much MUCH bigger.

I can see Bardin Jussik being absolutely miserable after being wrangled onto Kamino. (He is absolutely not going without one hell of a fight. He is dragged in kicking and screaming)

The guy left the Jedi order in favor of a mandalorian lifestyle bc he hated the rigidity and hypocrisy of the Jedi. He hated how he couldn’t use his abilities to help more people just because the republic said he wasn’t allowed. Being constantly surrounded by the various Jedi artifacts spread around Kamino would most likely make him feel even more trapped than the bars of the cell that he was kept in before he finally calmed down and stopped biting any clone who would come near.

But he wouldn’t exactly have a chance to escape, especially not with his wife and child! The man would rather die than leave his family alone with the obsessed clones.

I can see him assisting in escapes, but not going with whoever gets loose. He always makes sure he won’t be tied back to the jailbreak so he and his family don’t get in trouble or separated as a punishment. 

(The clones quickly figure out the best way to keep him from trying anything is threatening to take his wife and reader away)

Arla would probably be conflicted about the situation. While she knows being imprisoned on Kamino is supposed to be terrible, she’s happy to be given a second chance at being a sister to Jango. Even if she knows the clones aren’t exactly him (mentally and emotionally that is). She has been in an abusive hostage situation before (Death Watch) but for some reason to her, this time it’s different…? The clones don’t burn a brand into her back like the Death Watch did. They don’t give her scars, don’t chain her up. They never hurt her. They are soft and loving, looking UP to her for guidance and making sure SHE is comfortable being called ori’vod and acting as an older sister to all of them. Many clones go to her for parenting advice and sometimes just to excitedly talk about their day or ask about hers. 

Arla’s mental health has been cracked from a young age. The clones somewhat use this to their advantage. Arla knows that what the clones are doing to the Jedi is wrong, but she also doesn’t entirely see the harm in it?

So many of the families living on Kamino are happy and healthy and everyone cares about one another. And Arla knows that as long as she stays, she’ll be surrounded by family and friends and love. She wouldn’t have to worry about armored soldiers bursting through the door and gunning down her family in front of her. Not again.

She knows Bardin is dissatisfied, and restless and she feels terrible for wanting to stay, but as long as she stays on Kamino, she knows her family is safe.

Reader starts off ecstatic. FINALLY having friends and family who understand them, and mentors willing to help them use the force properly. But before long they start feeling trapped again. Reader realizes they may have traded one prison for another. Lothal for Kamino. They still find themselves wanting to explore the stars. Reader eventually approaches ba’vodu Hunter and asks him if they can come along on the batch’s next expedition.

Hunter flat out says no. The Alphas are strictly against it. Reader asks around and literally every clone on Kamino says no to letting reader come along off world. It’s too dangerous out there for a naive little one like reader! They’re too sweet! Too innocent! (They are also literally getting close to being 18 and very much not a child anymore)

And reader finally realizes the mess they accidentally brought upon themself. 

one day they defeatedly walk up to Hunter, take a seat next to him, tiredly leaning their head on his shoulder.

“Remember that deal we made when we first met? And you promised to give me your best story about one of your adventures? I’m ready to hear it now…”

I’d love to know your thoughts on this! I’d love to know what you think would go differently. This wound up being a lot longer than I thought it would but I figured you might find it interesting! 

Your work is amazing, I think it’s SUPER creative. Please don’t forget to take care of yourself and have an amazing day!

I actually love this.

I dont have a whole lot.more to add except jango fett is still alive in my au. So that would make things extra interesting for aarla.

Also, Bardin and Vera would vibe. She orchestrates a majority of the successful escapes from kamino, and is glad to have his help.

[lady-of-imladris]

CHAPTER 1 - MY KNUCKLES WERE BRUISED LIKE VIOLETS

Synopsis: At the battle before the black gate, Thranduil Oropherion fights for his life. But he is not alone.

Word count: 1.5k

Characters: Thranduil, Elrond, OC

Pairings Thranduil/OC

Warnings: description of battle, wounds, swearing

My knuckles were bruised like violets Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked Spineless in my tomb of silence Tore your banners down, took the battle underground - The Great War (Taylor Swift)

Middle Earth, Second Age 3441, Dagor Dagorlad Twelve years the battle had been going on, and yet the orcs did not seem to run out of arrows, nor did they run out of cruelty. Countless bodies of elves, men, horses, and orcs alike littered the fields of Dagorlad, yet the last alliance between elves and men, led by high king Gil-Galad persisted. They would not stop fighting. They could not.

Thranduil, king of the Woodland Realm was surrounded by orcs. He should not be so deep in the fighting. When Oropher died seven years prior and Thranduil became king, he had promised not to take unnecessary risks. He had lied.

“By Oromë’s horn, I will fucking kill you!”, the Sindarin curse drew his attention. “Are you hurt, my lady?”, Thranduil called out to the elleth beside him. The two of them appeared to be the only ones still standing in the sea of orcs surrounding them. “I’m fine!”, came her reply, “but I broke my nail punching this morgul rat.” Thranduil rolled his eyes and dodged an arrow almost effortlessly. Almost.

“It seems we are in a bit of trouble here”, he called out to her. “Oh? I did not notice that. I must have been busy staying alive.” Thranduil allowed himself a moment to look at her. She moved her sword so gracefully, but oh so deadly.

He could see neither the color, nor the length of her hair, or any part of her really, as she was wearing a helmet and full body armor. But in that moment, Thranduil knew that she was the most beautiful elleth he would ever lay eyes upon and he was certain that not even the Valar themselves could outshine her.

“What’s your name, soldier?”, he asked her. What had come over him? They were about to die. He did not expect her to reply, but she did. Anarríma, she was called. Like the constellation.

She cried out in pain and Thranduil turned his head to look at her. An arrow protruded from her thigh. “I’m alright, don’t worry about me.” Her wound could not distract him. That could mean his death. She kept fighting, albeit a bit sloppier than before. Thranduil slowly fought his way to her side. They would go down together. “You have to promise me to survive this, soldier. I mean it.” “No offense, but I think you’re delusional.”

He laughed. “Then allow me a little more delusion. If we survive this battle, and we both make it back to the camp, will you go out with me?” She was confused. Did he not know they were both about to die? Or did he just not care? She sighed. “In the highly unlikely scenario that we actually still live tomorrow, I will go out with you. You know what? If we survive this damned war, I will spend the entire victory celebration dancing with you if that’s what you want.” “Promise me?” “I swear it.”

As soon as she finished her sentence, a shock wave erupted from the battlefield, knocking them to the ground. The orcs started running. They abandoned their posts. Thranduil’s eyes scanned the horizon, and caught a flash of familiar golden armor. Elrond was alive, and he was running towards Orodruin, accompanied by a man. What was his name? Thranduil felt like he was supposed to know, but he could not bring himself to care. Her voice brought him back to the present.

“Did we do it?” He turned to look at her. She was crouching on the floor beside him. The blast had knocked her helmet off, allowing him to see her long golden curls. “I think”, he said, standing up from the ground, and offering her his arm, “your oath to dance with me has defeated the forces of evil, my lady.”

She winced as he pulled her to her feet. That wound needed to be taken care of soon. Thranduil sheathed his sword and swept her off her feet. She groaned in pain. “Goheno nin”, he apologized to her, “but I need to get you to a healer, and I refuse to leave your side until you have upheld your promise.”

The healers would all be busy with the more severe wounds, so Thranduil decided to take the elleth to his own tent. He told one of his soldiers to ride out to meet Elrond and bring him back. Then he carried Anarríma back to the camp. It took hours even to get to the edge of it, and even longer to reach his tent. The king laid her down on his bedroll. “What is this place?”, she asked. Did he not say he would bring her to a healer?

“This is my tent. Elrond will be here shortly to see to your wounds. In the meantime, I’ll patch you up as much as I can.” “Your tent?”, it was huge, “What are you, a lord or something?”, she asked jokingly. It hit him suddenly. He had not introduced himself yet. This could ruin everything. He groaned inwardly. “Not exactly a lord, no”, he started, before being saved, or rather doomed, by the arrival of one of his guards.

“Your majesty!”, he greeted Thranduil with a bow. Thranduil rolled his eyes. Great. Just great. “What is it?”, he asked. “A message for you”, the guard handed him a letter and left.

“Majesty?”, a voice called weakly from his bed, “Who are you?” He sighed. “I am Thranduil. King of the Woodland Realm.” “You lied to me!”, she accused him. What? How dare she? He was the king. But that exactly appeared to be the problem. “I have not”, he stated plainly, “in the haze of the battle it would not have been wise to reveal myself.” He pulled out some bandages and other healing supplies from a bag and knelt down next to her on the floor. She shifted away from him.

Thranduil sighed. “I am truly sorry I did not tell you earlier, but you have to let me take care of your leg.” She winced as he touched her thigh. It hurt like hell. “I have to break off the arrow and take it out, it doesn’t look like it hit anything major, but you might still lose a lot of blood. I promise I will do it as fast and painless as I can.” She just nodded, staring blankly at the roof of his tent, bracing herself for the pain. It was not her first injury in this war, she knew that it would hurt like hell. “Open your mouth”, Thranduil commanded, and she obediently bit down on the strip of leather he pushed into her mouth.

A strangled scream escaped her mouth when she felt Thranduil break apart the arrow. He pulled the arrow out of her thigh and immediately applied pressure. The blood loss made her dizzy. “Stay with me”, he repeated over and over again and she looked into his eyes. She had never seen eyes so blue before.

The flap of the tent was thrown back, just as Thranduil started wrapping the bandages around her thigh. “Elrond”, it was not more than a strained whisper. “I am here, mellon nin, do not worry. I will take care of you now. You can sleep.” He took the strip of leather from her mouth and poured a sweet tasting liquid down her throat. She slept soundly while he worked.

“You did a decent job with that”, Elrond turned to Thranduil, “I’ll just make sure there will not be any scars. She will sleep for a long time. You should rest as well.” Elrond carefully bandaged her thigh and removed her armor so she would rest more comfortably.

She slept for a full 24 hours. Thranduil sat on the ground next to her for a time. Sleeping next to her without her knowing about it did not seem right to him. However, he found himself getting more and more tired. It had been twelve years since he last rested well and he was certain she would not mind. At least she would not mind much, he decided and laid down next to her after removing his armor. He never wanted to put it on again. Thranduil looked over at the sleeping elleth next to him. She looked to be at peace, only disturbed by a strand of golden hair hanging over her face. Reluctantly he reached out and tucked it behind a pointy ear, and he could swear he had never touched something as soft as her hair in his entire life.

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Notes: Here it is, the long promised chapter 1. I promise they will fuck by chapter 4. I had a really hard time coming up with a name for my OC, but I settled on Anarríma, the name of one of the constellations created by Varda <3

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