#like. he’d actually know what the fuck he’s talking about despite how incompetent he seems on the surface fjddcjendgj

[designernishiki]

im at the haruka + akiyama duo section of 5 now and i love it <3 both for the uncle/niece sort of dynamic they have and because i fucking love me a murder mystery baby

[dqllgarden]

trust exercise

lila pitts x five hargreeves

tags: smut, a lil humiliation, hate sex, one sided attraction kinda, idk if i should tag this as age gap but kinda sooo

written based off that one scene in s3 where they need a working briefcase and five doesn’t wanna work with her because they don’t trust each other. thanks dec for the idea 🤍

wc: 1k

—

“And I’m supposed to trust you?” Five spat out at Lila.

“It’s our only option left, Five. I don’t suppose you see any other briefcase lying around, so what choice do we have?” She wasn’t wrong, not only did both briefcases fail and leave them with no way of fixing the timeline they’ve ended up in, Five knew they needed to do this as soon as possible before his siblings caused any more damage in a world they weren’t supposed to live in.

“I don’t trust you Lila, I never have. How do you suppose I let you put my life on the line like this?” Five crossed his arms and glared at Lila.

“Because it’s the only choice we have-“ Lila paused. “I mean, do you want me to prove you can trust me?” She looked at him with a sinister look that gave the complete opposite of a trusting persona.

“Obviously, but these past few ideas of yours have been shit, no offense. What now?”

Lila smiled and walked over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “What better way to trust each other than to have sex? I mean, doesn’t that require a lot of trust?”

Five made a disgusted face and wiped off his cheek. “Seriously? Fine. But don’t think for a second that I’m going to enjoy this. Lie down.”

Lila snickered, “uh, no. you lie down, Five. I’m not going to let some tiny kid try to top me.”

“Are you going to enjoy this? It seems like you’re way too excited for this to just be about trusting each other.” Five started to unbutton his shirt while sitting on the cold concrete floor.

“Says the boy who’s trying to take off his shirt when it’s completely unnecessary!”

Five just rolled his eyes in annoyance, “I just figured that was part of this.” Despite her teasing, Lila unbuttoned the rest of his shirt for him and ran her nails down his bare chest watching him shiver. Eventually she started to unbutton his pants before she even started to undress any part of herself. “Woah, Five! You’re already hard? God, that’s humiliating. Talk about enjoying this!”

“I can’t help it, it’s a natural reaction to being touched like that, plus, I’m still stuck in a teenagers body.”

Lila laughed at him even though she knew he was right. She slipped off her pants and pushed him to lay down flat against the floor. She put two fingers in her mouth and put them inside of her to act as lube.

“Actually, I don’t think you should get to watch.” Lila put one hand to cover his eyes as she lifted herself up and slowly sunk onto his cock.

“H-Hey- What the fuck?” Five pulled at Lila’s hand so he could look at her. Lila laughed and slowly started to fuck herself on him. “Do you trust me yet, Fivey?”

“Not after that little move, asshole.”

“Can’t we have a little fun? Stop being so bloody uptight.”

Five shakily moved his hands up to Lila’s hips to help her continue her pace before she slapped his cheek and he jolted away.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Five whined and propped himself up on his elbows.

“Did I say you could touch me?”

“I didn’t think I had to ask, I thought this was about trusting each other.”

“No, this is about you trusting me. And I’m doing that by making sure you know I’ll take care of you. Plus I’ve seen the way you eye me.”

Five had always been attracted to Lila in some sick and hateful way. He hated the way he got turned on when he watched her fight, hated the way his breath hitched anytime she’d call him ‘pathetic’ or ‘incompetent’. All those times he’d secretly hope when they were face to face she’d kiss him instead of hitting him.

“You’re enjoying this waaaay too much Five. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

Before Five could reply, Lila pressed her hand up against his mouth and smiled, fucking him harder. He started to whine into her hand, his eyes darkening into even more of a hateful look.

“Much better! You’re so much more enjoyable to be around when you shut up.”

Five simply rolled his eyes and gave into the fact that he might never get to experience this again. He couldn’t decide if he hated or loved it. He hated the way she made him feel so fucking good and he loved the way she seemed not that interested. Like this was something they had to do.

And it was.

Lila wasn’t attracted to him, they were doing this to build trust between them in order to test something to get the briefcase working again. They had to do this. For some reason, Five loved the thought of his enemy fucking him for the sole purpose of essentially saving the world, and then never wanting anything to do with him again. Moments ago they were fighting in a bathroom, and now Lila was on top of him. Fuck, he needed to stop thinking before he came inside of her.

Five tapped Lila’s hand and she took it off, slowing down her pace along with it. “What do you want?”

“I’m gonna cum you need to get off.”

“Who says?”

“Lila, I’m being serious.”

She only laughed and started fucking him faster until he came inside of her. He can’t even tell if she finished, but by the looks of her trying to hide her expressions, she probably did. Five pushed his hips up into her involuntarily while he covered his face in pure embarrassment.

Lila slowly got off of him and put her pants back on before buttoning up Fives and giving him a hand to stand up.

“Do you trust me now?” Lila cocked her head, showing him fake sympathy. She reached out her hand and pulled him further back into the room, Fives shirt still unbuttoned and started to jumpstart the briefcase.

[novaauster]

Three-Dimensional Characters

I did it. I’ve cracked the code.

I figured out what dimensions (or graph axes) people are talking about when they say “three-dimensional characters”. It’s “what they know about themself”, “what they don’t know about themself”, “what they show to others” and “what they don’t show to others”.

Like this!

So, for example, let’s take Katniss Everdeen. Fantastic character, iconic book series. What does she know about herself? That she loves her sister and would do anything for her. That’s the opening knowledge of the book, everything hinges on it. That makes her an active character, because she has this core of belief about herself. 

She shows that she’s angry at the Capitol. It’s imminently important to her that she do so, it makes her feel like she has personhood in a system that’s trying to strip it away. She fights and fights some more, and does not make compromises.

Of course, she doesn’t know that her anger at what is being done to her and her sister, while completely justified and probably her only available coping mechanism, actively harms her chances of survival. Like, a lot. She cannot play along, she cannot make allies (except for Peeta, who puts up with a lot because he knows she can fight better than he can), and thus she is a pretty bad leader. Even so, she makes do and starts a revolution anyway, because most people are just as angry as her.

And, finally, she doesn’t show (to other characters, not to the reader) that she’s terrified. She and her entire home district are in mortal peril, and she’s like sixteen. She doesn’t know how to protect Prim besides fight for her, and she fights so hard and so uncompromisingly that she gets in her own way. It’s an internal conflict and it makes her seem three-dimensional and very human.

These four things are kept in mind in every scene, and get specific based on each circumstance (and they’re a sliding scale too, especially on the “show” axis, she obviously trusts some people more than others). They even change over time somewhat, because she’s a dynamic character. So, yeah.

I’m gonna do the same thing for the characters I’m writing rn under the cut

Keshiro from Empty And Become Wind! He’s so fun and silly and goofy. He knows that nothing can get in the way of his duty as a Raqkesh, and he doesn’t know how to treat his own personhood, outside of his duty, with his charges. He shows that he’s kind of a funny bitch, if someone can’t understand some aspect of his identity (being an airbender, being a Raqkesh, being an agender man, what have you) then he thinks it’s hilarious to lie to them and confuse them further. He shows, to the people he trusts, that being a Raqkesh is a dead-serious thing and violence weighs on a person in the abstract. He doesn’t show, unabstractly, that he’s in pain.

Din from Empty And Become Wind! I love him so much, he’s just a Guy in Situations. He knows that he’s perfectly able to live the life he currently has, and he doesn’t know that he’s gay and the world is a lot bigger than the homophobic little Fire Nation towns he’s been in all his life. He shows that he’d like to meet someone that isn’t absolutely fucking incompetent, and he doesn’t show that, despite the haters, he is capable of whimsy and curiosity.

And those things are all on display during the scene that they meet! Din is guarded because he’s meeting someone who could, to quote popular Disney animated film Aladdin, show him the world and he doesn’t know if he trusts that, Keshiro is being a funny bitch but when someone’s actually in danger he steps up and even risks using airbending to help, and he might tell Din about his charges and the spirits, but he only references his own past (mentions Ther) when it’s imminently relevant that he explains why not having OSHA is bad, actually.

That’s why they’re so fun to write!

[cyncerity]

Could you do a Bench Trio vore story? its fine if you can't, just wondering <3

I wrote this all in one afternoon, god help me

First actual story for the Bet on the Crown au and it’s gonna be vore, woo!

I swear I’ll get around to doing something involving Phil, y’know, the most important character in this au, but for now I wanna write bench trio.

Also I’ve had this idea in my head for a while so this gives me an excuse to write it.

tw: vore, hard vore mention (none happens), very long cause I’m an incompetent writer who can’t cut unimportant shit out, general angst, this qualifies as hurt->comfort I think?

Tommy sucked in a breath nervously as his fist hovered just in front of the carved and (in his humble opinion) overly fancy silver-embellished door. What was he doing. It was four in the morning.

Truth be told, he had never wanted to be in this situation in the first place. But here he was, up and about in the middle of the fucking night, a few seconds away from knocking on the two princes’ door.

Techno had said that it would be a good idea for Tommy to spend some time in Enderia with the two princes after they all had kind of hit it off. Honestly, he was pretty sure that Techno was just trying to get him out of the palace for a bit so he could get some alone time. But that didn’t matter at the moment. He had only met Ranboo and Tubbo twice (and may he say for business reasons only, not just to hang out as pals or whatever normal kids do) when Techno arranged what he called a “sleepover” and dropped him off at the front steps of the Ender prince’s palace and told him he’d be back in a week to pick him up. Supposedly, this had all been approved and shit, and Tommy knew that it would be a good influence on his citizens and their views towards magic folk, but it was still nerve wracking.

Firstly, nobody here spoke English as a first language. Sure, Ranboo did, and many other Endermen did, too, but he couldn’t put into words how strange and frankly disturbing it was to walk down the rows of a bustling marketplace and hear inhuman warbles and hissing instead of speaking. Not that Tommy wanted to be offensive, but the native language here sounded like a cat screeching mixed with the melting vocal chords of a human being burned alive (ok that may be a bit offensive). Not pleasant at all, don’t ask him how Tubbo could stand it.

Secondly, Tubbo, who he could not understand by no fault of his own. Their species just…weren’t meant to communicate. Not that the smaller prince didn’t seem nice. In fact, weirdly enough, it was usually easier to be around him than Ranboo. Not that Ranboo wasn’t a good guy, he was just really awkward and, frankly, sucked at talking to people, Tommy included. So Tommy wasn’t looking forward to spending a week alone with a someone who he couldn’t understand and someone he didn’t know how to talk to. And it’s not like the palace workers were much more talkative.

Thirdly, the palace was too damn big. Which led to Tommy’s current predicament: trying to find his god damn guest room in the seemingly endless sea of hallways that made up the castle. He had got out of bed to use the bathroom (which he thankfully remembered the location of) and hadn’t paid much attention getting there, and had been wandering around looking for his room for close to a half hour at this point. It also didn’t help that the castle was a bit unsettling when the sun was still up, so at night, it was terrifying.

The ornate and gothic architecture and carvings lined the too-tall walls (specifically constructed for Endermen), all painted dark purples and black, made it near impossible to see, save for the little bit of moonlight reflecting off of the silver accents in the walls. The only solice he got was that he wouldn’t run into anything in the dark, since the furniture in the palace was almost double the size of what he had at home, therefore big enough for him to see despite the lack of light. Again, don’t ask him how Tubbo dealt with any of this. And he thought Phil had it rough with his small stature in a normal human sized home. How Tubbo, who was a good bit shorter than Phil, put up with living in a palace this big without having an anxious breakdown was beyond him.

As he walked further, he could hear the nauseating hisses of other high ranking Endermen in other rooms through the walls, talking about who knows and who cares what. He thought about interrupting them and asking for directions for all of two seconds before realizing that 1: they’re probably doing important shit and don’t want some human kid interrupting it and 2: they probably didn’t speak much English anyway. He was close to calling it a night and sleeping on the ground for the rest of the night, royal status be damned, he was exhausted.

Until finally, finally, he noticed a familiar door, only sticking out to him because earlier that day when he’d been given the tour of the castle (that in hindsight he should have paid more attention too), he’d noted internally that the door was ridiculously rich and stuffy looking, even by his royal standards. Ranboo had said it was his and Tubbo’s bedroom, and that if he needed to find them past dusk, they’d be here. So technically, Tommy had full permission to wake them up, since he really needed them to help him. On the other hand, nobody likes being woken up at ungodly hours, especially not by a guest he wasn’t even sure they wanted. But his tired frazzled mind was quickly favoring the idea of a bed over the embarrassment of waking up the two most powerful people of this country just for directions.

So, he finally made a decision, and knocked.

Nothing.

He knocked again, louder.

…

Damn, shouldn’t at least one of them have woken up? He’d at least expected Tubbo. He’s tiny, he’s got little ears, pounding on a door would be like hearing a battering ram to him, what gives?

At this point, Tommy made a serious lapse in judgment, not thinking for a second that it’d be rude, and just took it upon himself to open the door. He was too tired to deal with this shit, maybe he could just shake one of them awake. They wouldn’t need to be up for long, just long enough to point him in the right direction. Hell, just long enough to tell him where the servants quarters was so he could get one of them to lead him back, anything-

Why was the bed empty?

Tommy didn’t know what he expected to find when he opened the door. Actually, fuck that, he knew exactly what he expected, and that was for the princes to be asleep, hence why they didn’t open the door for him. But…no. There was only one bed, and no one was in it. In fact, it was perfectly made, as if no one had been in it. Something in the back of Tommy’s mind urged him to just lay in it so he could get some rest. The forefront of his mind was focused on the fact that oh shit oh fuck the door was unlocked and the princes are missing.

Oh fuck. Fuck. We’re they kidnapped? Was kidnapping normal for Enderia? Tommy was the newcomer here, if the princes disappeared, he’d be to blame. Him being human didn’t help. His kind had never been good to magic folk like Endermen, and were arguably worse to faes like Tubbo. He’d be blamed. He’d be thrown in jail and tortured for information on something he had nothing to do wi-

Hissing. That’s what snapped him out of his panic; the light, quiet sound of hissing.

He looked around the room, but didn’t know where the sound could be coming from, until he realized that there were doors around the room, and saw a sliver of light coming out from under one.

Well, now he just felt like an idiot.

He walked towards the door, the hissing getting louder with each step, and knocked again. No response, but at least this time he could be sure that one of the princes was sleeping. He was still lucid enough to realize that the hissing was some form of snoring for Endermen, meaning that Ranboo was in here. He couldn’t be sure where Tubbo was, but screw it. He was probably asleep, and he was small, he’d be harder to find than Ranboo. So Tommy swung open the door, immediately spotting Ranboo, laying horizontally on a plush armchair with a calm smile on his face, hissing lightly, hand draped over his middle which was-

Tommy froze.

His breath felt like lead in his chest, he felt the blood drain from his face, he knees started to shake and his hand almost slipped off the door knob with how much they had started sweating. Oh gods.

The room, which had seemed like a normal study upon first opening the door, now looked like a scene from a nightmare. A tall skinny lamp was illuminating the room from a corner, showing the desk that took up most of the room in more detail than Tommy had seen anything in since the sun went down. The bookshelf next to the lamp remained undisturbed, along with a small soft looking hammock-chair thing that hung from the ceiling next to the desk, probably meant for Tubbo to sit in so he could be with Ranboo without being in his way. The desk itself was what made Tommy’s blood turn to ice.

What he had at first glance assumed was just a messy desk now appeared much more sinister. Upon closer inspection, the papers weren’t just a bit disorderly. They were everywhere. Some slightly torn, wrinkled, on the ground, shoved everywhere, all only having one thing in common; they were shoved away from where Tubbo’s chair hung. The closer the papers were to the chair, the more tattered they looked, and Tommy knew that there was no way that was a coincidence.

This wasn’t a mess from Ranboo being disorganized…

This was a fight.

Something happened. Something must have happened. Ranboo and Tubbo got along so well when he’d met them less than a week ago. At least, he assumed they did. Despite not being able to understand the fae, whatever he said to Ranboo had always brought a smile to his face or a blush to his cheeks when Tommy had seen them. The Enderman had never once handled Tubbo roughly, pushed him aside, or talked down to him. He seemed to love his husband.

Whether that was an act or not didn’t matter anymore. There Ranboo was, lying on the chair, a smile spread across his lips, hand over his stomach, with Tubbo trapped inside.

Tommy couldn’t breathe. He watched with horror as the skin of Ranboo’s gut glowed from the inside: a light, muted green that he had seen in person enough to identify, even if it was dimmed by the inches of muscle, skin, and fur that surrounded it. He could see a silhouette inside the prince, sourcing the light. The outline of transparent wings, the mid length fluffy hair that now seemed to be pulled up in a messy bun revealing the shape of one normal pointed ear and one half gone and mangled one, there was no way this wasn’t Tubbo.

From inside he could see Tubbo flittering about in the small space of the organ, slamming his body against the roof of his fleshy prison and shoving and kicking at the walls to no avail. He ricocheted his body against any surface he could manage, desperately slamming into the floor and walls now, too. And nothing worked. Ranboo remained asleep, that calm smile still on his face despite Tubbo’s struggles. Tommy had half a mind to be furious that Ranboo feel so calm while Tubbo was clearly so scared.

Tommy slapped a hand over his mouth to quiet his heavy panicked breathing, despite fully knowing that if pounding on a door wouldn’t wake Ranboo, his breathing sure as hell wouldn’t. But he couldn’t think any better than he could breathe at the moment. His mind just kept replaying what must have happened. He looked back towards the desk.

He could picture it clear as day: Ranboo, doing simple mindless paperwork, a dull chore Tommy had found himself doing countless times as a royal responsibility, when Tubbo flew up to his seat next to his husband. Who knows how long the two sat there, Tubbo being completely unaware of what was about to happen to him. Being completely unaware that the man who he had sworn himself to in matrimony would soon decide to end his life. Maybe it had started in an argument, where Ranboo got fed up and grabbed Tubbo out of his seat, shoving his papers out of his way and swallowing the fae whole. Maybe it had been peaceful, with no clear indication or build up that anything was wrong; maybe Ranboo had been planning to kill him for a while, and acted too quickly for Tubbo to defend himself. He felt like one of those crime shows that told the story of how and why a person was murdered. He wondered if he would be interviewed for one of those shows when the news got out: after digestion finally kicked in and Tubbo stopped struggling, stopped everything, and faded away within the man who had once loved him. Would Ranboo even be caught? Was there evidence, besides Tommy himself as a witness?

Wait, what was he doing? There wouldn’t be an interview, there wouldn’t even be a murder, because it was right there happening in front of him, and he could stop it. He could see Tubbo, still trying to fight his way out of the body of his now almost murderer, still alive and kicking. And Tommy was gonna make sure it stayed that way.

He slowly crept towards the chair, kneeling down in front of it and leaning close to Ranboo’s midsection, as awkward as it made him feel. From this close he made two morbid realizations.

One was that Tubbo was screaming. From inside the stomach he could hear a rapid yet muffled bell-like ringing. He remembered Ranboo once telling him how impressed he was at how easily Tommy could tell Tubbo’s tone despite not being able to hear his actual voice. Tommy had never heard Tubbo that distressed before.

The second was that every time Tubbo hit the stomach, there was a low vibrating gurgle. Shit. Did that mean that digestion was starting? No way in hell it meant Ranboo was hungry, Tommy could clearly tell that he should be feeling very full at the moment. He’d better make this quick.

“Tubbo?” Tommy whispered. Tommy saw the silhouette of Tubbo’s head whip towards him. ‘Good, that means he can hear me.’ he thought. “It’s gonna be alright, big man, I’m gonna get you out of there, you’re gonna be alright…” Tommy continued to mutter soft reassurances to Tubbo as he tried to reason what to do. Meanwhile, Tubbo had stared to throw himself at the side of the organ he had realized Tommy was standing by, and the human realized that it had become just a bit easier to hear the ringing. Was Tubbo screaming louder? Probably. Maybe he was concerned Tommy couldn’t hear him well enough.

Eventually Tommy settled on just trying to push up on Ranboo’s stomach. With a few words of warning to Tubbo, Tommy placed his hands just under where he could see Tubbo and started to push up, not seeing the fae holding his hands out and shaking his head.

Almost immediately, the stomach let out a loud and painful sounding gurgle. Tommy quickly retreats his hands back, holding them up in surrender until the noise stops. Tommy looks up. Ranboo’s smile is gone, but he’s asleep.

Tommy doesn’t stop.

He puts his hands back where they were, pushing up again, and notes how Ranboo’s legs shift a little to pull them closer to himself. Notes how the hand over Tubbo tightens, fingers latching onto the thin layer of fur. Tommy grits his teeth and pushes more.

Eventually Tommy looks back at Ranboo’s midsection. Tubbo is seemingly squished up into the fetal position, since Tommy has been compressing the already limited space he had. He’s stopped screaming but is violently shaking his head back and forth, trying to tell the human to stop. Tommy drops the pressure immediately before leaning back over him. “Ok, that, uh…I’m gonna be honest, that didn’t really work.” Tommy’s hears a high, seemingly pissed off, sounding ring in response. “But! Don’t worry! I have another plan, something has to work!” Tommy said, hoping Tubbo didnt hear the desperation in his voice.

…He got an idea.

Ok, if this didn’t work, he didn’t know what would. As gross as this was. He leaned Ranboo’s chin down and looked into his open mouth. Shit. Fuck, this was so gross. He looked back to Tubbo, who was now just sitting still, probably trying to figure out what was going on from audio ques only. Alive still, but probably not for much longer. Tommy didn’t care how gross this was, he wasn’t going to let Tubbo die because he was squeamish. With that last though, Tommy stuck two of his fingers down Ranboo’s throat.

Tommy watched as Ranboo’s body thrashed, and Tubbo was unceremoniously thrown around in the convulsing stomach as it seemed to shrink in on itself and push him upwards. Yes! Finally, something was working! Tubbo was gonna survive!

Any momentary feelings of success were cut off as Tommy felt a hand clamp around his wrist.

Had he not been so concerned with Tubbo getting out of this whole situation alive, Tommy may have realized that if he wanted Ranboo to stay asleep, it probably would have been smart to remove his fingers from the prince’s mouth. He felt the hand draw his fingers out of the throat and when Tommy turned, dichromatic eyes met his.

“What are y-“ Ranboo tried to get out before suddenly stopping and letting go of Tommy’s hand only to press his hands to his throat. Tommy was confused for a second before he saw the green glow come up from between Ranboo’s collarbone and continued traveling painfully slow up the throat. It worked! Tommy’s stupid risky plan had worked, Tubbo would survive-

Wait shit Ranboo was choking-

He watched the taller prince start to panic as he threw himself off the chair and onto the floor, sitting on his knees and hunching over so he could let gravity do the work in spitting out the fae. He desperately clawed against his throat, shoulders heaving as he attempted to cough out Tubbo so air could be sucked back into his lungs, before realizing that it wasn’t working and resorting to leaning back and swallowing shallowly over and over in a last ditch effort to get him anywhere that would let Ranboo breathe again.

Tommy, despite not being happy with Ranboo at all at the moment, did not want to watch one prince die just to save another. He ran behind Ranboo and linked his hands together just below the Enderman’s rib cage and started trying to perform the Heimlich, praying to any god listening that Ranboo’s anatomy was similar enough to a human’s that it would work.

Thankfully it did, and moments later a very slimy and wet fae was unceremoniously spat out and quickly caught in Tommy’s waiting hand, and Ranboo was left to fall to the ground and cough, his lungs forcing in as much air as possible. Tommy took the time to hold Tubbo tighter against him and run. He ran and slammed the study door behind him, dragging over a way too heavy chair and pushing it in front of the door. He frantically looked around the room for something to defend himself and Tubbo with, but the best he could find was a heavy paperweight. Speaking of Tubbo, he subconsciously realized that the screaming had returned and the fae was pounding on his chest where Tommy was holding him.

He opened his palm further and Tubbo shook the spit off his wings before hovering to reach Tommy at face level and continued screaming, sounding…angry? Why would he be angry?

“The fuck are you mad at me for?? I just saved your fucking life, you’re welcome by the way!” Tommy said, exasperated. Tubbo stopped, stared him in the eyes with the most blatant “I’m done with your bullshit” look he’d ever seen (which means a lot given that he lives with Technoblade), and turned and flew towards the door to the study. Tommy tried to run over and stop him but before he could get there, a small yet very shocking explosion went off near his feet, causing him to jump backwards and fall over. He looked up to see Tubbo using the same type of explosion to knock the chair over and entered the study, where Tommy could see that Ranboo was still on the ground, breathing heavily.

Tommy was scared for his life when he saw Tubbo fly in front of Ranboo’s face. He got up and fully braced himself to have to knock the Enderman in the head with the paperweight when he saw Ranboo’s hands gingerly come up from underneath Tubbo. The fae’s wings stopped immediately, fully trusting the hands underneath him to catch him. He was brought up closer to Ranboo’s face, which only displayed worry and pain at the moment, and Tubbo responded by placing his hands and forehead on Ranboo’s nose and saying something, the light calm jingling barely audible to Tommy from so far away. “Are you sure?” Ranboo responded. “He could’ve hurt you-“

Tommy’s confusion was replaced with anger. “I could have hurt him?!” Tommy yelled, making both Ranboo and Tubbo snap their heads in his direction. He walked closer. “Im not the one who trapped someone inside them! I didn’t try to eat anyone! How did I hurt him? I wasn’t the one who was sleeping peacefully while someone they love was trying to rip them open from the inside out!!” At the last remark, Ranboo turned to Tubbo with a confused look on his face. Tubbo shrugged, and responded with what Tommy could only guess was “I’ll tell you later.” They both looked back up to Tommy.

“Look, I don’t know why you’re in here in the first place, but I’m going to assume you did all of…that with the best intentions in mind.” Ranboo started, standing and inching closer to Tommy, Tubbo now cupped in only one hand as Ranboo reached the other out towards Tommy, like someone reaching a hand out to a feral animal to see if it would bite. “But I need you to understand something: I would never willingly put my husband in a situation where he could die. I love him, and that won’t change. I was never going to hurt him!” He seemed desperate to make sure Tommy believed him. Like that was going to work.

“Bullshit!” Tommy yelled. “If he was safe, what’s up with the mess at the desk? Your stomach growling every time he moved? Him pounding on the walls and screaming at the top of his lungs to get you to wake up? You can’t just eat things safely, that’s not how it works-“ “I can, though!” Ranboo interrupted, sounding more desperate than before. “I literally can! Endermen can do that!!” That halted Tommy’s next comment. He looked to Tubbo, who nodded. “Explain? And explain the rest of that shit I mentioned, too, you’re not off the hook yet. The only reason I’m even giving you a chance to explain this is because Tubbo seems to believe you about the whole ‘safe cannibalism’ thing.”

Ranboo sighed, the tension in his shoulders dropping a bit. “Ok, firstly, it’s not cannibalism. Tubbo and I aren’t even the same species. Secondly, Endermen have storage stomachs. When we’re born we’re really tiny, and the pouches are how our parents carry us around. So it’s safe for living things, like Tubbo.” “You realize that if it’s purpose is to store other Endermen it is a safe cannibalism thing, right?” “Tommy do you want an explanation to the rest of this or not?” Tommy shut up.

“Anyway, the papers were Tubbo’s fault. I was at my desk doing work, and he asked if I had eaten yet today, because I have a bit of a problem with forgetting to eat. After I said no, he decided that I was done doing work and needed to go eat. He messed up all my stuff and got papers everywhere, and it took him like a half an hour to mess everything up bad enough that I gave up on paperwork.” Tommy noticed that Tubbo looked absolutely smug with victory as Ranboo said this. “But at that point it was too late to go and get actual food, and I didn’t want to walk to the kitchen cause it was far away, so Tubbo suggested that I just…eat him? Not actually eat! But having something in my brood pouch would soothe the hunger pains until morning. But since there wasn’t and still isn’t food in my actual stomach, I’m assuming that’s why you, uh…heard it…..gurgling.” Ranboo winced and his face darkened with embarrassment over having to talk about that.

“Plus, we..uh...kinda usually sleep like this. We figured out pretty early on that if we sleep in the same bed I usually end up on top of him, and neither of us want that, so this just…works better.” Ranboo’s face was dark before, but now the lighter side almost matched the other with embarrassment by the end of that explanation, but Tubbo just nodded along, as if he didn’t find a single thing Ranboo said strange at all. “But the ‘pounding on the walls and screaming?’ I have no idea.” Ranboo said, looking down at Tubbo. Tubbo huffed and stood up, flying up to sit on Ranboo’s shoulder to explain himself. After about five minutes of Tommy listening to bell noises Ranboo spoke back up. “Ok so,” he turned to Tubbo, “and let me know if I’m getting anything wrong here, cause you just gave me the quick re-cap,” he turned back to Tommy. “Apparently Tubbo had been asleep, but woke up when he heard you pounding on the door and panicked, since no one knows we do this. He was trying to wake me up so I could hide the fact that he was in there, or spit him out, or something so we wouldn’t get caught. Unfortunately, I’m a really sound sleeper, and it didn’t work. Double unfortunately, you might’ve been able to see Tubbo, but he couldn’t see you. He didn’t know you could see him struggling to wake me up until you actually announced yourself, and at that point you were too far into your rescue plan to think about what he was trying to mime to you. By the end of it he knew that you were gonna end up doing something, so he just sat and waited for you to either wake me up or shove him back up my throat. And I think we’ve realized it was the latter.” Tommy processed it for a moment, and vividly remembered Tubbo shaking his head at him when he first attempted to get him out of the stomach. He thought he meant that it wouldn’t work, not to just stop trying all together. But then again, why would he have? He couldn’t have known.

“Oh.” Was all Tommy could say. Ranboo came up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s ok, man. You had no reason to think this was normal, especially as a human, I’m sure you don’t see stuff like this often. Hell, we don’t either. We might be the only people why do this. Honestly, it just shows how good of a guy you are, trying to save Tubbo’s life, even if he wasn’t in any actual danger.” Tommy looked up, and saw Ranboo smiling down at him. He also saw Tubbo lean and whisper something into his husband’s ear, which made Ranboo laugh. “Tubbo also wants you to know, for future reference, he can handle himself, and that if he was ever in any real danger of being eaten that he could very easily survive. Don’t ask how, he didn’t specify and I don’t want to know.” Tommy laughed.

“I’m sorry-“ “Hey, now, none of that. This never happened, you have nothing to be sorry for, just forget about it. Also if any of the council people ask, me and Tubbo sleep like normal people. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you come in here in the first place?” “Oh, right!” Tommy perked up, suddenly remembering what had started all of this. “I, uh, got lost, I didn’t know which way my room was. I just needed directions. Well, need, I still don’t know my way back.” He had almost completely forgot why he even came in the room. It sounded so stupid after everything that had just happened.

“I get it, this place is a maze. Took me like six months to figure it out. And I still don’t think Tubbo knows how to get around, that’s why he clings to me.” Tubbo angrily jingled from Ranboo’s shoulder. “No you don’t.” He responded before looking back to Tommy. “You want to get breakfast on the way back to your room?” “Su- wait, breakfast??” “I mean, look outside the window.” Tommy turned towards the window behind the still neatly folded bed, and saw the sun starting to rise in the sky. “Holy shit, how long have I been in here?” Tubbo whispered to Ranboo again. “Tubbo says it’s been like, around and hour and a half give or take since you knocked. So there should be some food in the kitchen, even if it’s not a huge royal banquet thing. Then you can go back to sleep at the guest room.” “That sounds good, I’m not the fancy type of king to get a huge breakfast buffet every morning, but are you sure? Isn’t there, like, shit to do that I shouldn’t be asleep for?”

Ranboo shrugged and looped an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, leading him out of the bedroom and down the hall. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly, I kind of need more sleep, too. I hadn’t been asleep for long before you woke me up, and I’m sure Tubbo got even less sleep. Whatever the council wants us to do can wait till tomorrow.” Tubbo nodded in agreement before using Ranboo’s arm as a slide to slip down from his shoulder to Tommy’s, leaning against his neck. Tommy looked down at him and smiled, knowing that the small gesture showed Tubbo forgave him for the whole incident, too.

And if some random servant looked into Tommy’s guest room later and saw all three boys asleep in a pile on the bed, surrounded by empty snack bags and the remains of random fruits, they simply closed the door and let them sleep.

[iiraven]

Fool-Proof Plan

Pairing: Erwin x reader

Genre: fluff, comedy, smut, modern AU

Warnings: size kink, masturbation, squirting, fingering in front of a mirror, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, manhandling, degradation, praise, established relationship, slight dumbification, choking/ breath play 

Word count: 4.6K

Synopsis: Erwin’s business trip leads you to realise you’re not as sly as you think you are.

Masterlist

Erwin Smith is a man capable of absolutely everything. He’s an amazing cook, an amazing masseur, an amazing businessman, and, most of all, an amazing husband.

There’s only one small shortcoming to the person you consider to be perfect. And that’s his inability to use any form of technology. Texting is bad enough with him signing his name after every message, but it’s social media that’s your husband’s true sworn enemy. Erwin might only be a few years your senior, but somehow your grandfather can comprehend the concept of Instagram faster than him.

“So, you just take pictures?”

“Yes.”

“And people respond to it?”

“Yes.”

“Alright but why?”

The conversation is nothing new, but you find it incredibly unfortunate knowing how talented he is at photography. If you two ever go someplace Erwin knows he wants to capture, he slings his camera over his neck, leaves his phone at home (“I won’t be taking any calls today”) and makes his merry way out of the house. You often eye the phone left stray on the desk, half-expecting it to chase you out of the house for abandoning it. Sometimes, for good measure, you slip it into your own bag. Just in case.

It’s for this reason that Erwin’s business trip puts you on immediate edge.

“It’ll only be for ten days,” he had said. “Sina Corporations takes their summits really seriously…”

“Ten days?” You repeated and Erwin gave you a soft smile.

“I’ll call you every day.”

It’s not like you have an obsessive attachment to your husband (well, that’s debatable), but breaking the routine of returning home to his warm hugs, listening to his day and then complaining about your own- it’s uncomfortable. 

Erwin himself wasn’t looking forward to being away from you, away from home. Running Survey Corporations Ltd is no easy task; trying to balance the infuriating board and the long hours with his actual life is something only possible because of you. Time spent together is fine diamonds Erwin clutches onto and although he’d tried to reason with himself that it was only ten days, it wasn’t a trip he was looking forward to. He never said it out loud. But he didn’t need to. You can tell by the way Erwin’s lips linger on yours a little longer at the airport, as if to preserve your taste.

“Oi Erwin- hurry up.” Levi tries hard not to glare. But even the raven-haired man knows that being away from you puts Erwin on somewhat of an edge. You’re his rock, there to ground him when everything is chaotic, and a summit surrounded by the richest people in the world is as chaotic as it gets.

Despite it all, Erwin stays true to his promise. He calls you at least twice a day and although you could stay on the phone with him for hours, he’s often rushing between conferences and can only spare minutes of his time. Even when he does have an hour, talking to a disembodied voice (he still can’t figure out how to switch his camera back around) is not the same as having Erwin right beside you. It’s the way he squeezes your thigh when he’s focussing on what you’re saying or when he pulls you towards him so that you can lie on his hard chest which still makes you blush even after years of being together.

Because, yes, you miss his touch the most.

Not even five days in, you find yourself with your hands down your panties and a tall blond man on your mind. You’re soaked just thinking about him. His groans, the way he calls your name, the way he pounds into you as you lose your train of thought. Your fingers try to imitate his- their curve and how easily they find your soft spot- but it just feels uncomfortable. So, then you try rubbing your clit, and there’s temporary pleasure there, but not even close enough to tip you over the edge. Even your pink vibrator doesn’t cut it. You deny the fact that Erwin Smith has made you an incompetent masturbator, but you can’t keep up the lie for long and soon enough you give up.

It’s the next day that your ingenious idea kindles. It’s a fool-proof plan. A small flame that has you rushing to the bathroom for the best possible lighting. Erwin can still put his tongue to use at a distance- after all, it’s his voice you fell in love with first. To discretely push him in the right direction, you send him a few photos of yourself. Nothing too scandalous safe he’s in a meeting, but enough that he’ll gets the hint. Sure, Erwin has a couple of polaroid pictures hidden in his brown leather wallet, but he had shot those himself. You want to be a bit more spontaneous! And, honestly, at this point you’re desperate. You could swear you’re developing withdrawal symptoms: just the other day, you were actually temped to pick up a newspaper. It was terrifying.

This had to work. You can just imagine Erwin calling you, voice deep and gruff as he guides you through the process to make yourself cum as he showers you with praise. You feel giddy, eyes glued to the glowing screen, awaiting his response. Even your pink vibrator is out of the box.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t exactly go the way you had planned.

One hour after sending the photos you receive a panicked text from Hange. In the long paragraph, you understand that your poor husband couldn’t get the photos to load and decided to consult the vice president of his company who, upon simply clicking on them, saw you groping your soapy tits. Had it been anyone other than vice president Hange Zoe, Erwin may have broken his phone and quit right there. Thankfully, he only said, “I see” and then asked her where to find the smiley face Emoji.

“I’m so, so sorry Y/N!” Hange screams through the phone. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise! I could send you a picture of my boobs! I’ll go do it right now! I’m sorry! No- You don’t need to feel embarrassed! I won’t mind!”

“It’s alright Hange.” You laugh nervously. “You don’t need to send me anything, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

The whack Levi lands on her head is so hard you hear it through the phone. “Shut the fuck up four-eyes.”

So here you are now. Three days until Erwin returns, a vibrator you’ve given up on back in its box, and a husband who responds to your nudes with a smiley face.

But then Hange Zoe sends you something much better than a picture of her boobs.

The hotel that the trio were staying at- as most hotels do- has a spa. And if there’s one thing Erwin Smith adores it’s allowing himself to relax in a warm, steamy sauna. You’re not sure how Hange was allowed to join them, or how she was able to get her camera clear of fog, or how she was even able to take the picture without Erwin noticing. But you ask her no questions.

Followed by a winky-face is a picture of Erwin sat in the sauna, head tilted backwards, and eyes shut in the pure image of serenity. His arms are propped up on either side of him accentuating his biceps whilst still allowing a clear view of his sculpted body, the sweat running down his chest and abs, making him almost glisten. He’s completely naked except for the flimsy white towel across his lap which does absolutely nothing to hide his thick dick print. You shudder.

You feel like a teenager again, speechless at the sight of a quasi- naked man. Even though you’ve seen him like this thousands of times, you can’t help but fantasise about being trapped underneath him, hair falling onto his face as he loses himself inside of you. God, maybe you do have an unhealthy obsession. But it doesn’t matter. You feel even more like a teenager as you imagine scenarios of him returning home to recreate the picture before you. And with that, your mind is sedated for the next few days.

You have a fool-proof plan. Dress up in the shortest and tightest dress you own, cook your husband dinner, and then give him a blow job at the table so that he’ll never leave you again. It’s going to be just like in the movies and nothing will stop that from happening.

Something stops that from happening.

Just as you’re about to put the potatoes in the oven, Erwin calls. His flight is delayed. You whine through the phone and Erwin’s chuckle just about stops you from sulking like a child. You can be mature about this, right? He’s getting home eventually- complaining isn’t going to help at all. Patience is a virtue and yours has been tested many times before. This is, after all, nothing compared to the time Erwin tried to create an excel spreadsheet. So, you don’t press further. You simply tell Erwin that you miss him and then go find a pillow in which you scream for a good five minutes.

Erwin, on the other hand, is a lot less coveted with his annoyance. He wants nothing more than to strangle whatever and whoever is preventing him from returning to his lovely wife. In the hour journey, the entire plane can feel a crushing tension above their heads, so tense that even the child at the back seems to be holding in his tears. 

Usually, Erwin prefers to spend his flights with a book in his hands, but he’s incapable for picking up the paperback and instead stares out of the window somehow hoping it will go faster.

After what feels like hours, the tight dress has gotten too uncomfortable for you to wear and you resolve yourself to eating the potatoes alone. You still don’t take off your lingerie, though. A two-piece black set with lace detailing that makes you look like a present ready to be unwrapped. It had arrived yesterday, and you had taken your sweet time admiring the embroidered flowers and soft ribbon holding the fragile piece together because you had falsely assumed that you wouldn’t have it on for long. You had in fact contemplated stockings but by the time 11PM came by you simply wrapped Erwin’s favourite robe around your body and tried to take your mind off things. Maybe you should have opted for your own robe because as the sleeves hung from your arms and the soft material effused his smell, it managed to make you feel even worse.

Staying up late was not a foreign feeling but anticipation quickly turns into boredom and you find your eyelids getting heavy. You pause the anime you’re watching and are about to shut your eyes when you hear the faint rattle of keys.

You stumble getting out of bed, knocking your shoulder on the wall before skipping four steps at a time and tripping on the robe at least twice as you rush downstairs. Erwin is barely through the door as you call out his name and he drops his bags right there to let your rush into your arms. You feel so small, so safe, so familiar, within them, as if you’ve returned to the space where you belong. He lifts you up to let you wrap your legs around his waist, your ankles barely crossing. He smells divine, even after hours of being stuck in an airport and his hair is still soft between your fingers. You look at him and the smile that spreads across his face wipes out any hints of fatigue that might have been there just moments ago.

Erwin kisses you and it’s long, deep, and he holds you impossibly closer to him as his tongue dips into your mouth. You don’t want it to end, but Erwin pulls back and says softly, “I’m home, my love.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Welcome home.”

You return to the kiss with a hint of desperation. Tugging lightly on Erwin’s shirt, you know he notices how your core is already warm, but still, he takes his time closing the door with his foot before finally noticing your attire. You’re about to make a sarcastic comment about his obliviousness but the way he looks down at you, at the small flower of lace peeping out from under the heavy robe, the way he slowly wets his lips, he leaves you speechless.

“You’re a gift.” He smiles sweetly though his eyes darken.

“Well, you’ve been working really hard,” You mumble. “You deserve a treat.”

The effect this man has on you is unbelievable. All that anger and frustration you had pent up now crumbles at the light caress of his thumb on your hips.

“Let me unwrap you,” Erwin says. And he walks you to your room, climbing up the stairs with ease as you cling onto him. You attempt to rub yourself against his hard stomach, but one look of warning makes you stop. He’s going to be doing things on his watch, tonight.

Setting you on the floor beside your bed, Erwin undoes the ribbon and you let the fabric pool at your feet. He immediately latches onto your neck, and you gasp, tilting your head to give him better access. His hands begin to roam, fingering the delicate lace of your panties and the straps of your bra as his tongue leaves a trail over your chest. It’s only when Erwin suddenly grabs your breast that you moan, body involuntarily pushing towards him.

He looks up through thick eyelashes and his hands moves to cup your face. You’re about to beg him to touch you where you need it most, but he whispers, “you’re so beautiful.” And you’re speechless again.

You suddenly lean in to kiss him, hands wrapping around his neck and it’s messy and your breath is short. “Please, Erwin,” you say to him between kisses. “Touch me.” You can feel him smile against your lips. “Please”. And before you can stop yourself. “I can’t do it myself.”

Erwin stills and only then do you realise your mistake. He pulls back and stands up straight, towering over you and you recognises that look. It’s the one of a lion who has just found a wounded deer. 

“Oh?”

Fuck. He leans back and raises a brow expectantly and you try to look everywhere but at him. Maybe if you avoid eye contact, he’ll take it as a slip of the tongue. But your husband is not one to let things go. He’s intelligent, he knows exactly what you mean- you don’t need to speak for him to gather what happened, the image of you lying pathetically on the bed, hopeless and desperate. He smirks but stays quiet. Erwin likes it when you use your words.

“No-that’s not what I meant. I mean- you feel best and it’s just-“

You’re cut off by a hand on your scalp, pulling your hair back in one swift motion so that you have no choice but to look up at your husband dead in the eye.

“You were touching yourself whilst I was away, Y/N?”

“I-I mean...yeah…”

“I see.” His gaze is enough to make you gush. “And you weren’t able to make yourself cum.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s not a question, but you affirm it anyways. “No, no I couldn’t make myself cum.”

He’s silent for a moment and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s watching your worried face or because he’s wondering how he’s going to make that face look even more worried.

“I would feel sorry for you, but I suppose that’s what you deserve for touching my cunt without my permission.”

You gasp as he uses his grip on your hair to throw you on the bed. It’s effortless, the way his strength could so easily destroy you and yet he uses it to ruin destroy you in another way- just who you like it. Erwin undoes his tie and all you can do is gawk as he strips down to his boxers. He’s as hard as a rock and you tentatively reach out to touch him, but Erwin grabs your wrist. Without warning, you’re dragged to the other side of the bed where you’re placed to face your large floor length mirror. There’s only a moment of confusion before you understand why Erwin had been so keen on the somewhat awkward placement. He positions himself behind you and you withhold the urge to press your back against his throbbing cock.

“Don’t you take your eyes off the mirror,” Erwin commands, and you nod your head. “Use your words. Or do you need me to show you how to do that too?”

“Yes, sir,” You say quickly.

“Good girl.”

Erwin opens your legs, his hands gripping your thighs hard. You silently wish bruises bloom in their wake- it’s been too long since you’ve had your husband’s mark on you. A reminder of who you belong to. One hand stays on your thigh and the other moves to nudge your panties out of the way of your glistening cunt. 

“I’m going to show you how to touch yourself,” He says in a low, rumbling voice. “And you’re going to watch closely and learn. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

His fingers don’t tease your folds for long. Erwin is feeling merciful, because he simply gathers the slick coating your cut before immediately rubbing your clit. The moan that leaves your mouth is pornographic. You buck your hips but the hand on your thigh moves to pin you down, your body flush against his so that you can almost feel his bearing heart. You’re engulfed by him so small as he easily manipulates your body.

Erwin is overwhelmed by the options. Look at his wife unravel below him or stare at the mirror, where you have no place to hide.

“I should be punishing you, you know.” He presses his fingers down hard on a particularly tenter spot and you moan loudly. “But I need to show my dumb little girl how to take care of herself.”

“I-I’m not- ahhh.” Your back arches and Erwin captures your neck again, sucking viciously.

As his thumb continues its assault on your clit, two fingers find your tight hole, dripping and clenching around nothing. He can see in the mirror how your body is practically begging to be filled up. And fill you up he will. But first Erwin inserts a finger and groans at the warmth that greets him. He begins moving it and although you try to understand how he is able to stroke your cunt so perfectly, your mind is fogged and all that’s on your mind is your impending release. This should be a learning experience, but it serves only as a reminder of Erwin’s miraculous hands. He slips his second finger in and your moans only get lounder.

“Erwin, Erwin- they feel so good. Your fingers feel so good!”

You can see his smirk in his reflection, just before he speeds up and you have to grab his wrist to steady yourself. His fingers slam back and forth into your velvety walls. They suck them in, and he is able to find your sweet spot every time. Every single time. Your eyes roll back, you press against Erwin’s chest and your legs shake as you cum. The mess you make, leaking all over Erwin’s hands, your bed, your thighs- you try to look away, but he grabs your face to prevent you from doing so.

“Don’t you dare look away.” His voice is low, threatening. “Look how good I make you feel. Look.”

Your cheeks are flushed and the set that had made you look like a femme fatale, just hours before, is now yet another set that has has you pliant and submissive. “It seems that I’m the only one who can take care of you,” Erwin says. And you know he’s right.

Erwin lifts his soaked fingers to his mouth and his eyes flutter shut as he tastes you. When he opens them, you swear they’ve gone a shade darker. Wordlessly, Erwin slips from behind you to kneel in front of the bed. He removes your panties and holds them up to his nose, giving them a slight inhale before tossing them to the side and lowering his mouth.

“Erwin wai-“

And before you can warn him that your too sensitive- you orgasm was too strong, it’s too soon- his mouth has latched onto your cunt and Erwin is eating you out like a starved man.

“Ah-fuck, fuck, fuck,” You practically scream.

He sucks on your clit, his tongue doing what it does best. You look down, his eyes bore into yours and you know he’s remembering every expression you make as he pushes you over the edge. Despite your trembling arms struggling to keep you upright, your hand goes to grip Erwin’s hair and all you can think about is how soft it is before you cum again. Your husband doesn’t stop this time. His fingers dig into your soft hips to make sure you don’t move, to make sure that he catches everything on his tongue. And he can feel it before you do. The steady build-up of a feeling slightly familiar, but foreign enough that you warn Erwin too late. Your back arches and you squirt in his mouth and before your eyes roll back, you catch a glimpse of what you know to be a smirk in your husband’s eyes.

You can feel the sheets soak below you so try to press your legs together in somewhat of an attempt to hide the mess, but Erwin doesn’t let you. “Don’t be ashamed now, darling.” His voice is solid, domineering. “This is just you perfect body, doing exactly what I tell it to,” He says.

He could be talking about fruits and you would still nod your head dumbly.

The power Erwin has over you is addictive, and your body seems to know it too. As he kisses your thighs, licking off whatever didn’t find its way into his mouth, you can still feel a distant ache at your core. This time, you don’t need to use your words. As you lie weak on the bed, Erwin crawls over, engulfing your form. The lion is ready for his meal. He leans down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. “I missed you,” He says. It’s the hundredth time, but you don’t tire of hearing it.

“I missed you too.”

Erwin shifts your legs, and you can feel the head of his large cock teasing your entrance.

“I missed all of you,” he repeats. “Your smile. Your voice. Your moans.” He pauses to place a kiss on your collarbone. “Your taste.”

He’s trying to be romantic, but you know why he stalls, and it makes you unable to graciously except the compliments. Erwin loves to hear you pine for him. And who are you to refuse your husband’s desires? So, you reach your hands out towards his shoulders, attempting to make him move if only a little bit. “Erwin!” You whine, and despite your weakness, you manage to push your hips forward, finding friction against his hard cock. “Please!”

Again, that smirk. He rubs against your clit. “My, my- you’ve come twice already and want more?”

Well, he missed your voice so you suppose you should let him hear it. “Let me be selfish, please sir?” You moan. “I need you inside of me.”

His cock twitches against you. And before you know it his hand is around your neck. “Such a good girl, using your words like that.”

He pushes inside you with a groan of relief, a low sound from his throat that causes his eyes to close momentarily. 

It seems you’ve forgotten how big he is because as he stretches you out like it’s your first time, your mouth drops open and a string of curses emerges. Erwin would usually reprimand you for the foul language, but he’s too lost in the feeling of your tight cunt pulling him in. Using your neck as leverage, he squeezes tight so that he can push forward and when your eyes blur, overwhelmed with the pleasure and pain and the lack of oxygen intensifying it all, Erwin loosens his grip only slightly, and your eyes find his again. You don’t notice your mouth hanging open, too focussed on the way your body is accommodating Erwin’s cock again.

“Really big, ‘s really big, sir,” You mumble and Erwin grunts in response, his teeth clenching because he too is reminded yet again of how tight- how perfect- your body is for him.

When Erwin bottoms out, he stills for a moment, basking in your warmth and taking a moment to kiss your cheek, a gentle gesture compared to the hand still grasping your neck. Your cunt gushes despite you wincing about the pain, about his size, and soon he can’t help but move his hips. Erwin pulls back and thrusts deep. You scream him name, as you feel his cock dragging against your walls. Any idea of taking you gently has evaporated from Erwin’s brain and instead his hips snap back and forth violently, his tip kissing your cervix as he buries himself inside of you again and again.

His grunts are laboured as Erwin’s free hand pushes your leg up to your chest to allow him to thrust deeps and deeper. “Just like that- just like that, good girl. My good girl.”

The new angle has him brushing against your g-spot and you won’t last long. You know you can’t- not with him quite literally rearranging your insides. You have one hand clawing at his forearm and the other grips the sheets and you repeat a mantra of “Thank you, sir, thank you” in between your desperate moans. The honorific coming from your lips is too sweet to his ears and he’s reminded of why phone calls bother him so much- nothing compares to hearing your voice like this.  

Erwin’s hand leaves your neck only to tug your bra down, letting your boobs bounce freely as he fucks you hard. You almost complain about the loss of contact but his tongue latches onto to your nipple and before you know it, you are coming all over your husband, screaming his name. Your nails dig into his arm as he nears his own release. Erwin’s hips stutter and he moans your name before throwing his head back in pure bliss as he cums inside of you. You wish you can capture that sight forever, but you don’t think any photo does your husband justice. It’s true- this is better than anything Hange could send.

Your breaths slowly find a slower rhythm in the post-orgasm silence. Erwin watches the way your fluids pool out of you as he pulls out, admiring the own mess on his lower stomach. You wince at the sore feeling and pull him towards you. This time, he follows your command. Breathless bodies mould into each other, finding their place after too long being apart. At the back of your mind, you know you should be making your way to the bathroom, but Erwin’s heavy body lying on your chest is enough to remind you to focus on the moment. For this is where you belong.

“You know, you should be flattered, Erwin.” You nudge his arm weakly as you lay together, bodies entangled in a random set of pyjamas you begrudgingly forced yourself to change into. “No one has better hands than you.”

He laughs. “I am flattered,” he says. “I just like teasing you.”

“No- you have a degradation kink.”

“Yes, that too.”

Even as you were taking a shower together, Erwin’s subtle attempts at having you admit you couldn’t make yourself cum did not go unnoticed. You suppose it’s an ego-thing, but then you realise it’s more. The power of being the only person able to bring you that much bliss is power Erwin thrives on. And despite the money wasted on your pink vibrator, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Still,” Erwin muses and a small smile plays across his lips. “I did expect the photo Hange took to at least help a little.”

Every muscle in your body stills and your eyes suddenly widen. Oh come on. You try to tell yourself that there’s simply nothing wrong with having a photo of your naked husband, but it’s more than that. You know it. Erwin knows it. And by the way he’s smiling, you also know that plastered on your face is the guiltiest of looks. In your poor attempt to escape his gaze by turning your back to him, Erwin chuckles and shakes his head, hugging you closer.

“That’s not fair!” You exclaim.

“It’s not?”

“No!”

You try to wiggle out of his grasp, but Erwin is made of steel. Why do you expect to get away with anything anymore? Erwin Smith is beyond two moves ahead- he’s finished the game before you’ve even started.

“Did you really think I didn’t notice?” 

“Shut up!” You whine. “Why do you have to be such a smartass about it? Let me think I win.”

“Alright, alright.” Erwin chuckles and places a kiss on your forehead. “You’re my winner. Always.”

[foilfreak]

4 Lords Raise Rose AU Ideas

Not a single person asked for this, but that other post where I talk about the 4 lords adopting Rose but still technically being terrible people got way more popular than I expected it to, so, with about 6 shots of tequila in my system and a terrible urge to spit my thoughts out for all the internet to see and judge, I’ve decided to make a follow up post. Here’s how I think the 4 lords would take care of Rose in the event they rebelled against Mother Miranda and decided to raise Rose as their own instead, but like under the cut after a little bit cuz i accidentally went way too fucking hard with this and I don’t want ppl to get mad at me for making them scroll for an hour to get past this post:

First and foremost, I think they’d do it in stages, and what I mean by this is that Rose would essentially be given to a specific Lord for some period of her life, like a couple years, and then when she was deemed old or strong or annoying enough, she’d be moved to a different lord for some period of time and so on and so forth. They would do this because a) they all live in different areas and have shit to do so it’s easier to have Rose live with one lord at a time and then the other lords can just go visit her there from time to time, rather than try to work out a weekly custody schedule which we all know Alcina and Karl would NEVER be able to agree on so let’s not even bother, and b) because each lord would have either some skill or set of knowledge that would make them the best for caring for Rose at that specific point in her life. This way, all the lords have a (somewhat) equal chance to be a part of Rose’s life and teach her something while she’s with them. So with all that in mind now, let’s get down to who would have Rose and at what point in her life.

1. Starting off with infant Rose, I think she’d end up with the Dimitrescu’s for the first few years of her life, and the reason why I think this is because... well, Alcina IS already a mother to 3 girls, and while we don’t know a terrible amount about Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela’s “upbringing” under Alcina, we can gleam and theorize from her notes that, despite their fully grown bodies, the girls could very well have started out with the mental and physical capabilities of infants, and thus needed to be cared for and brought up in a similar manner as infants or children until they reached a certain point where they could officially be considered adults in mentality and ability, not just in physical appearance. So with this in mind, it’s entirely possible that Alcina could have at least some vague idea of how to care for an infant child through her experiences with the bug sisters; perhaps there’s some gaps in her knowledge, but if nothing else I imagine Alcina would be an infant Rose’s best shot at surviving infancy if only because the other 3 are so incompetent on how to care for a baby that Alcina looks like an expert in comparison. Not to mention that, of the possible locations for an infant to be raised, I do genuinely think that castle Dimitrescu would be the safest place for Rose to be kept during this vulnerable part of her life. Not only that but if Alcina has actually come to care for Rose as though she were one of her own daughters, then she would absolutely spoil Rose rotten with all the nicest clothes and fanciest toys, things that a small infant wouldnt be able to appreciate but would show that she’s loved and cared for nonetheless, and don’t even get me started on the bug sisters, I could see them fawning over Rose for hours on end, playing with her, singing to her, telling her stories of all the man-things they’ve gotten to play with today, and so much more. Overall, Rose would just be the most spoiled and pampered little baby with the Dimitrescus and there’s no changing my mind about this. The only thing I’m struggling to wrap my head around is how they’d feed her, since I doubt a small infant would take very well to blood wine and human flesh. I suppose it wouldn’t be terribly outrageous for them to hire a wet nurse/nanny to care for Rose during the day while the other Dimitrescus go about their daily duties, and when Rose is finally old enough to be introduced to solid food (I.e. fried human flesh cubes) they could do what they always do and turn the nurse into wine too, I guess. It’s not a solid idea but it’s more plausible than anything else I thought of so it’ll work!

2. After spending about 3 years with the Dimitrescus, Rose would then be moved to the Beneviento house. Now, If u don’t know anything about 3 year olds, then you’re probably ignorant to the fact that they are some of the craftiest, sneakiest, and most coniving groups of people to exist on this planet. 3 year olds are masters at getting into and touching just about anything and everything u don’t want them to touch, and worst of all, u won’t realize what they’re doing until they’ve already done it and left a huge mess behind, so while the Dimitrescus love and adore Rose dearly, they know it’s sadly time to hand her over when they find her sitting on top of a pile of dead bodies playing with a metal scythe in the dungeons. Once Rose is dropped off at the Beneviento house, I imagine Donna is her usual stoic self the first few weeks Rose is with her. She’s not cold or distant necessarily, in fact she’s quite happy that it’s finally her turn with precious baby Rose, but Donna isn’t exactly known for being outwardly expressive herself (and even Angie isn’t being quite as forward as she normally is), so things are quiet and peaceful for the first little while that Rose is under her care. It’s not until Rose takes an interest in her doll Angie, and more importantly the things that Donna can do with Angie, that things really start getting fun. By the end of Rose’s first month in the Beneviento house she and Donna are the best of friends and often spend their days either playing dress up and make pretend with Donna’s extensive doll collection, or playing elaborate games of cat and mouse, where Donna will set up lots of puzzles throughout the house for Rose to find and solve (I.e. rose has to match her dress to the doll with the same one as her to find a map telling her which kitchen cabinet Donna hid the chocolate in, or something like that), but be careful little Rose, Angie has been trying to get her hands on that chocolate all day, and if u take too long, she’ll find the map first and eat all the chocolate without saving you a single piece. Just silly little puzzles with enough at stake to engage the mind of a curious 3 year old, but never enough to put rose in any actual danger. Donna is nothing if not a watchful caretaker, so she makes sure she has sight of Rose at all times, occasionally giving her a hint if she’s struggling, and perhaps occasionally making things harder if that day’s puzzle is proving too easy for her. Overall, Rose’s time with Donna, while not as grand and luxurious as the Dimitrescus, was still a fun and enriching experience for the young girl, and there’s nobody in this world who thinks that Donna’s scar is cool more than Rose.

3. After another 3 years with Donna, Rose is now 6 years old and officially far too good at puzzle solving for Donna to keep up with. No matter what she tries or how hard she makes it, Rose just keeps blazing through the puzzles at an almost alarming rate, making it clear that Rose is desperately in need of not only a change in scenery, but also a change in education, and this is where Salvatore finally comes in. After leaving the Beneviento house, I think the next logical place for Rose to stay would be with Salvatore, who, with lore hinting at him perhaps being a scholarly man of some kind, would basically act as her elementary school teacher throughout the duration of her stay. Now, to be fair, Rose could have gone to Heisenburg’s factory, but Heisenberg outright refused to take her and the other 3 lords decide that the factory is simply too dangerous for Rose rn, who thus far hasn’t shown any signs of being anything other than a normal human girl with no noticeable abilities (save for a smart mouth and a terrifying habit of popping up when least expected, a habit she mostly uses to mess with Heisenberg, much to his disdain and Lady Dimitrescu’s delight), so it is to the mutant fish man’s unimaginable delight that he is unanimously voted Roses next caretaker, and the one responsible for her basic education. Despite his initial excitement however, when Rose is finally dropped off at the windmills by Donna, Salvatore realizes that he’s not 100% sure what to do with Rose now that he has her. He’d like to get started on her education right away but at the same time he’s so fearful of Rose hating him because of his disgusting appearance that he kind of just... avoids her entirely at first. He’s never far away from the little girl and is always ready to jump to her rescue should she need it, but other than that Salvatore seldom allows himself to be seen for the first month that Rose is with him, the only sign of him still being around being the platefuls of food that mysteriously appear in Rose’s room 3 times a day, as well as the occasional shiny trinket Salvatore found and thought Rose would like. At first, rose doesn’t seem to mind being left entirely to her own devices, but after every stone, log, and rotting fish corpse within 5 miles of the lake has been turned over and thoroughly examined, Rose decides she’s had quite enough of her Uncle Sal ignoring her, prompting the headstrong little girl to go looking for him herself. She finds Salvatore hiding underneath a patch of floating algae not far away from where she was playing and all but demands that the mutant man come out of the water and give her something to do or she’d tell Mother on him. Salvatore, shocked by the small child’s fearlessly blunt request, hesitates, not wanting to frighten Rose, but ultimately relents, crawling out of the water and timidly suggesting that he teach her how to read and write. Rose quickly agrees, seeming totally unbothered by Salvatore’s grotesque appearance, and the two quickly move to the schoolroom that had been set up specifically for Rose, where Salvatore spends hours upon hours a day teaching Rose everything he knows, filling the little girl’s head up first with the basics, letters and words, then numbers and simple equations, followed later by historical dates and time periods, algebraic formulas, and classic literature analysis, then biology, chemistry, physics, astrology, calculus, ecology, and so much more. Basically, anything there is to know, Salvatore knows at least something about it and he’ll make sure that Rose knows about it too. In the 3 years Rose spends with Salvatore she goes from already sharp as a whip, to being smarter than most adults even, and Salvatore takes immense pride in how intelligent and knowledgable Rose becomes thanks to his surprisingly effective teaching style. Overall, as a caretaker, Salvatore is pretty weird and doubts himself a lot, but Rose thinks he’s funny and loves learning from him so they get along very well and she loves him very dearly! He probs teaches her to swim and fish too.

4. So another 3 years come and go with incredible speed, and its with great sadness on Salvatore’s part that Heisenberg finally comes banging on the fish man’s door, all but demanding that he now be given his turn with Rose. Now, personally, I can see several different arguments being raised by the other 3 lords over why its a terrible idea to let a 9 year old anywhere near Heisenberg, much less be given into his care fully. After about 9 years of seeing his siblings paling around with the constantly growing child, and looking like theyre having the time of their lives all the while, however, Karl decides that perhaps there’s more to this little girl than he originally thought, and, with his interest now piqued (or at the very least looking forward to pissing the other 3 off for entertainment purposes), that its only fair that he be given a turn with her now too, seeing as how he’s the only one who hasn’t been given the chance to be her caretaker yet. This naturally does NOT go over well with the other 3 lords. Alcina all but threatens to kill Karl should he step so much as within 10 ft of Rose, while Donna pipes up and demands to know what his sudden interest in Rose is. Even Salvatore, who is quick to flinch away from direct conflict, goes as far as to harshly point out the plethora of times Karl had outright denied their previous attempts to get him to engage with Rose, so why on earth would they hand her over to him now when he’s previously shown to have absolutely no interest in her? After a long spout of yelling between the 4 siblings, an agreement is reached, wherein Rose herself will be given the chance to decide whether she wants to go with Heisenberg, or whether she’ll return to one of the other 3 lords for the time being. It is to Alcina, Donna, and Salvatore’s absolute horror however, that Rose enthusiastically agrees to go with her Uncle Karl to live in his factory, and with the deal already set, the other lords can do nothing to stop her from going. The trip to drop off Rose at heisenberg’s factory is a long and arduous one, especially for Salvatore, who sobs the whole way there about Rose forgetting about him despite the young girl’s insistence that she’d visit. The first thing Karl does after officially having Rose handed over to him, is give her an extensive list of all the places in the factory in which she is under no circumstances permitted to enter without his permission (which basically only leaves the control room and the old storage closet that acts as her bedroom as viable places for Rose to go and explore). The second thing Karl does is dump her in her new storage closet bedroom and then hightail it for his workshop to work on whatever sick and twisted amalgamation he’s got cooked up this time around. At first, Rose isn’t terribly bothered by this, since she’s used to having something of an “adjustment period” when she’s with a new caretaker, but unfortunately for her, this adjustment period lasts a hell of a lot longer than the others did, and by the time 3 months of almost no meaningful contact with Karl, Rose decides to take matters into her own hands and ascends into the depths of the factory despite the express orders not to do so. Now, going back to the idea that the 4 lords are still pretty terrible people, I doubt Rose has been kept ignorant to the less savory aspects of her caretaker’s lives, and tbh she probably doesn’t think anything of the fact that the Dimitrescus makes wine out of the blood of virgin women or that Salvatore still does cadou experiments (and had her help on occasion), but I imagine even Rose would find the projects Karl works on to be at least a little

4, cont. gruesome and horrifying in nature, especially since Heisenberg is the one she knows the least about. However, instead of turning Rose away from Heisenberg, these terrifying metal creatures she sees locked up only spark her already insatiable curiosity, and by the time she finally tracks Karl down, Rose is all but trembling to learn more about this horrifyingly fascinating metal world. Unfortunately, Karl is not nearly as happy to see Rose as Rose is to see him, and the engineer all but grabs Rose by the scruff of her neck and drags her back up to the control room, yelling and screaming at her all the while about how she was explicitly instructed not to enter these parts of the factory without his permission. Needless to say that Rose does not enjoy this treatment and immediately lashes out, half out of anger and half out of confusion as to why Karl was treating her like this. He was the one who wanted her here in the first place, so why the hell was he just ignoring her now? It didn’t make any sense and it was starting to piss Rose off, so naturally the only thing left for her to do in order to solve this complicated situation would be to continue to disobey Karl until he either gave up and sent her back to one of the other lords, or finally payed some damn attention to her for once. So that’s exactly what she did. Every single day Rose left her room (which Karl kept telling himself he needed to put a lock on, but never did cuz he’s an idiot) and descended down into the depths of the factory looking for something ogle at or tinker with, and every single day Karl would track her down wherever she’d managed to get to and throw her back upstairs threatening to feed her to the lycans if she did it again. This incredibly frustrating cycle continued on for the better part of the next month or so, finally coming to a head when Rose managed to wander into the part of the factory where the... less than successful experiments got put whenever Karl doesn’t have any further use for them but is feeling too lazy to kill them off himself. Long story short, Rose runs into a Sturm that chases her around the factory, causing all manner of mayhem and destruction, and would have torn her to ribbons had it not been for Karl, who jumped in at the last second and was able to fend the damn thing off long enough for Rose to get the ever living fuck out and back up to the control room where it’s safe. There’s a lot of loud noises and explosions coming from deep within the factory that last for what feels like an eternity, but Rose doesn’t dare venture out again until everything has gone eerily quiet and a deep sense of worry has settled in the pit of her stomach over what had become of her latest caretaker. Turns out the Sturm had recognized its creator and, after watching its initial prey escape because of said creator, quickly decided that it fucking hated Karl with every fiber of its being and wanted him dead if it was the last thing it’s propellers did. Now, we all know that Karl is a big strong boy who’s more than capable of handling his own creations and taking down strong enemies, but the Sturm is a creation that even he struggles to control on good days and today is decidedly not a good day so not only does Karl not have the slightest bit of control over the death machine trying to kill him, but its also a lot stronger than Karl initially thought and apparently not picky about the method which causes Karl’s death, which is evidenced by the nearly dead Sturm ramming itself into a power generator as a final act of defiance and nearly blowing up the whole factory and everybody inside. Heisenberg is able to contain the explosion somehow but not without considerable damage to himself first. Rose is, naturally, quite horrified to find Karl passed out in the elevator that had taken him up from the lower levels of the factory where the explosion was, skin burnt nearly to a crisp in certain areas and blood pooling from just about every part of him, and immediately heads over to try and help her injured caretaker.

4, cont. again cuz I physically can’t stop myself. Now, I imagine that any normal 9 year old probably wouldnt be able to handle this sort of situation in any meaningful way, but i think we can all agree that Rose is the furthest thing from normal (especially considering who raised her) and has probably seen enough blood and gore to not be terribly freaked out by it, but this is where things get a little speculative because we don’t know what Rose’s powers are exactly but we do know from the final cutscene that she does have them, perhaps even a plethora of abilities, and I like to think that some of those powers are related to Ethan’s superhuman healing capabilities, but unlike Ethan however, who from what we’ve seen could only heal himself, Rose can actually heal other people (tho this isn’t something she’s aware of at this point in time). The second the elevator door opens to reveal, what looks to be, a half-dead Karl slumped over in the corner, Rose panics and runs to him, doing everything she can think of save for maybe grabbing him by the collar or slapping him across the face, to try and get Karl to wake up, except nothing works, he wont wake up no matter how hard Rose tries and i imagine this must be incredibly distressing for Rose who never intended for something like this to happen or for her caretaker to die because he had to protect her even tho he told her not to go down there because its dangerous and anything down there WOULD kill her if given the opportunity. Anyways Rose is now full on sobbing on top of Karl like only a 9 year old who just discovered that her actions have consequences can, but unbeknownst to her (and technically Karl cuz he’s a little busy bleeding out all over the floor) Karl’s wounds are slowly beginning to close, the burns on his face and hands shift from a bright red to a dark brown before crusting over and flaking off, and even his breathing, which had been labored and inconsistent at first, began to level out slightly. Karl woke up not long after that and was surprised to find that a) he was still alive, which was cool, b) he was injured but not in indescribable pain, also cool, and c) there was a literal sobbing child all but sitting on top of him, which is definitely not something Karl was expecting but he supposed he’s been met with worse things upon waking up after almost dying so why question it. After taking a moment to gather their bearings, the two return to the safer parts of the factory to rest and recover and for the most part this little incident of their’s goes largely unspoken, with Rose not exactly in the mood to talk about how her disobedience nearly got herself and Karl killed, and Karl being too fucking tired to go after her about it, especially since she seems to have learned her lesson. The only downside to this whole thing is that now Karl has a busted up fuckin leg thats gonna take an eternity to heal even for him, and with so much work to still do he’s more or less forced to drag Rose around the factory and use her like the annoying assistant he never wanted (except he did want her, thats how this whole fucking mess started, you lug), except that Rose, who is more than used to playing lab assistant from her time with Salvatore, quickly proves to be a rather capable and handy person to have around, if only because she knows the difference between a philips and a flathead screwdriver even better than he does. An amicable, if still slightly awkward peace settles over Heisenberg’s factory once Karl starts actively engaging with Rose and giving her something to do on a daily basis, even if its just standing around watching him work and occasionally having her questions about what he’s doing answered. It doesn’t take very long after that for Karl to begin realizing that perhaps throwing a huge tantrum to get Rose to come here only to ditch her upstairs by herself for 3 months might not have been the smartest (or most considerate) thing he’s ever done, and even goes as far as to (kinda) apologize to Rose for being such a dick to her since she arrived.

4, last one i swear. Rose forgives him, though not before adding that she already knew he was an asshole from Alcina, which earns her a halfhearted swipe from Karl that Rose easily dodges with a childish giggle. From that point on their relationship improves astronomically as Karl finally gives in and teaches Rose about about engineering and everything else that goes into making the metal horrors that he’s known for. Karl is shocked at how quickly Rose picks up on the trade, getting to the point where Karl wonders if he should start giving Rose her own projects to work on, but quickly rolls his eyes and groans when he remember that Salvatore was the one responsible for her education up until this point, the mere thought of having to give compliments to that “moronic freak” for giving Rose such a good educational foundation makes him want to vomit despite how secretly impressed he is. Overall, Rose’s time with Heisenberg starts out shaky, very shaky even, but after a bit of disaster and some swallowing of the pride on Karl’s part, they end up growing quite close and have a nice fun Uncle and martass Neice dynamic. They make a good team and Karl does genuinely enjoy having a little assistant around to help him with his projects, even if Rose can sound a bit too much like Alcina on some days for his liking.

5. 3 more years come and go and now Rose is a strong and healthy 12 years old, perhaps riddled with a few more scars and smearings of ash and motor oil across her skin than when she first arrived but still strong and capable nonetheless. Going back to that first statement however, this of course means that it’s time for the other 3 lords to come banging on Karl’s door for a change, all but demanding that Rose be handed back over to them. Karl of course refuses, telling them all to fuck off and that Rose didn’t want a leave the factory, so upon realization that all 4 lords were gathered here with the intention of taking Rose back to live with them indefinitely, a fight immediately breaks out between the 4 siblings, as each one makes their case as to why Rose should be returned to them and not the other 3, which of course none of the 4 lords can come to an agreement about because they ALL want Rose to stay with them. So after another long and pointlessly arduous argument, Alcina finally breaks, proclaiming that they’d be here for all eternity of they didn’t make a decision now, and that, like the first time the 4 siblings argued over whether Rose should go with Heisenberg or return to one of the previous lords, Rose would be the one to decide which of her four caretakers she would return to. The agreement is made reluctantly, mostly on the part of Salvatore, Donna, and Heisenberg, but there was seemingly no other way for them to come to a decision, so it would unfortunately have to be up to Rose to decide which of her 4 caretakers she wants to stay with permanently. Rose is quickly brought before the 4 lords and explained the situation, before being given some time to herself to think and make her final decision. A tense and uneasy silence falls over the 4 lords as they wait for the little girl, who they had shown an uncharacteristic amount of mercy and time and devotion and love in the 12 years since Mother Miranda had brought her to the village with the intention of using her to revive an already lost and long-gone baby that she never would have gotten back no matter how hard she tried. Although they refused to admit it to one another, the lords all secretly knew that Rose had wormed her way into each of their cold, dead hearts, reviving an aspect of their humanity that they’d all thought had been lost ages ago. Rose came to the village bringing with her a wave of death and destruction, and yet throughout her childhood she has brought them nothing but light and life, illuminating their previously dark and desolate existences. The 4 lords loved their Rose very dearly and desperately wanted her to be happy, yet each of them possesses a dark and selfish desire to have Rose pick them over the other 3, to come and live with them forever and fill the hole deep inside them that they never knew needed filling. After a short while, Rose comes back out and stands before her 4 beloved caretakers, looking around nervously as she picks at her fingernails. The silence is thick and heavy as the 4 lords stare at the young girl, waiting with bated breaths for her to give her final verdict. Rose continues to say nothing as tears begin to flow from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks in thick streams as the girl begins to sob, dropping her head and clenching her dress. The 4 lords look between one another in confusion, unsure of what to do with this sudden burst of tears. Rose tearfully admits that she can’t and doesn’t want to choose which of the 4 lords she wants to live with permanently because she loves them all very much and wants to be able to see and live with all of them, like they’ve done thus far. Although the lords detest the idea of having to share Rose with anyone, they reluctantly come to an agreement for the girl’s sake, deciding that they would continue with the arrangement they’ve had thus far, only that Rose would switch between caretakers every 3 months instead of every 3 years, giving rose plenty of opportunities to see each of her caretakers just like she wanted. From then on, Rose continues to live her life

5, cont. growing up and learning more and more from each of her beloved caretakers. Although Rose would likely never know what a normal life looks like, living with 4 criminally insane monsters in the remote mountain village in Romania, it would be impossible to say that she wouldn’t have a happy life despite that. Perhaps its because the girl simply doesn’t know any better, so she doesn’t have the ability to see just how messed up her life and her 4 caretakers really are, but i imagine that Rose probably wouldn’t care very much to learn even if she had the opportunity. She’s a happy little girl living a strange but enjoyable life with the only family she’ll ever need. What more could she possibly ask for?

6. As for how Mother Miranda would play into this whole scenario I’ve just drunkenly spat out, im honestly not 100% sure. Ive seen some people suggesting that MM just kinda chills and lets the lords do what they want with Rose, but tbh I honestly don’t see that happening in this universe. MM would still have been just as crazy and driven to get Eva back as she was in canon, so i doubt she’d willingly standby and let her “false children” take away her one shot of getting her real child back simply because they didn’t want to hurt her, i just don’t personally see that happening. The two most likely scenarios i can come up with is that the Lords either banded together and look Miranda on together, their combined forces being enough to take her down and kill her, OR, Ethan is the one to take down MM like he did in canon but he passes out before he can get to rose, giving the lords (who he hadn’t ended up killing but just escaping from i guess) the opportunity to slide in, grab rose, and hightail it out of there, leaving Ethan’s body to be retrieved by Chris, who, due to not seeing or hearing Rose anywhere, believes that Rose must have been accidentally killed along with MM, which he later tells to Ethan and Mia. Regardless of how MM gets taken out of the picture (or if she’s given room to potentially come back later), the 4 lords retreat with Rose and begin the whole cycle I explained up above, but i did want to briefly address how I saw MM fitting into all of this since she is a vital part of the original story and the biggest obstacle to the lords having anything to do with Rose.

Anyways, that was so much longer than I intended it to be but I had so much fun with it just because it gave me the opportunity to spit some fun ideas and potential plot points out about this cool AU that I like and hope someone does SOMETHING with, please god someone do it, I’d do it myself but i have enough projects at the moment unfortunately. If you managed to make it all the way to the bottom, thank you for reading all of that, I appreciate it, and I hope you enjoyed at least some parts of this, and maybe even agree with some of the things I said. Feel free to leave your own ideas in the comments, I’d love to read them and hopefully if enough people like this maybe i will actually do something with it. Who knows? I certainly dont. Anyways thank you for reading all this, i hope you have a great day, and maybe ill see you around in another post. Bye!!! <3

[hypmicdaydreams]

oh FUCK that last one hurt 😭😭😭 im SO sad omg - can i ask for those sane three (ichi, sama, sasa) when their s/o snaps out of it and comes back to them? i cant just leave it like this 😫

Hey hey anon! I'm more than happy to do a follow up and give our boys the happy ending that they deserve! I absolutely love angst to fluff, so this was so nice to write. Thank you sm for the request and hope you enjoy 💕

𝗜𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗼, 𝗦𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗸𝗶, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗦𝗮𝘀𝗮𝗿𝗮 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝘀/𝗼 𝘀𝗻𝗮𝗽𝘀 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘀

-pairings: ichiro yamada x gn!reader, samatoki aohitsugi x gn!reader, sasara nurude x gn!reader

-genre: fluff, hurt/comfort (?)

-previous (continuation of this)

Ichiro

months have passed since the last time ichiro saw you back at chuohku, and he still had a heavy heart each and every time he thought about what had happened

as much as he hated your decision, as much as it hurt him, at the end of the day, it was what you had chosen (even if it didn’t seem like you were you in the moment), and ichiro couldn’t do much about that

he thought that he had moved on after months of pondering and healing. ichiro had foolishly thought that if you were to show up at his doorstep the very next day, after having disappeared and lost contact with him, then all those old feelings wouldn’t resurface

but he was dead wrong

when he found you at odd jobs yamada, avoiding his gaze as to hide the fact that you were quite nervous about this confrontation, ichiro was shocked to say the least

all the love he held for you, the emotions that he thought he had buried and gotten rid of, came back in a split second

he felt an urge to run up to and embrace you, thankful that you were safe and seemingly better. the blank and emotionless stare that was pretty unnerving had left your eyes, all the emotion and humanity returning to them

yet, at the same time, ichiro was hesitant to approach you

the last time he did so, he had gotten hurt, and quite frankly, ichiro wasn’t sure if he would be able to deal with that all over again

plus, you had betrayed him, and that was something he couldn’t find it in himself to forgive. once trust was broken, it was difficult to rebuild

however, the moment you apologized and explained everything, from the hypnosis to the hostility, ichiro threw that thinking all away and immediately forgave you

honestly, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for thinking that you, of all people, would leave him. the two of you deeply loved and cared for one another, of course it wouldn’t be so easy for you to simply up and leave or even like you to act so cold

ichiro is so overwhelmed about, well, everything. not only were his emotions getting the best of him-from his feelings of guilt and anger at what had happened to you to those of relief and love for seeing you again-but the sudden info dump was simply too much

and with everything piling up and with finally getting to embrace you once more, the two of you, needless to say, began to tear up a bit

for the next few months or so, he may be a bit overprotective though he wouldn’t necessarily realize it unless you point it out. ichiro simply didn’t want such an incident to happen again

after all that happened, ichiro was relieved that you were finally by his side again

Samatoki

even after you had left, he never gave up on looking for you and trying to bring you back, no matter how difficult or impossible it seemed to be at times

he refused to believe that you had left him. surely there must’ve been some sort of outside influence, especially since he didn’t like the dead look that he saw

everything was pointing to the fact that you were being controlled, but he really had no way of knowing that concretely

samatoki knew that it was going to be difficult to find you now that you worked for chuohku, but well, life wasn’t fair so it was to be expected

he certainly didn’t think it’d be that easy, however, not expecting it when you showed up to his hideout out of the blue one day, looking the same as before save for the blank gaze

when samatoki saw you standing in the doorway to his room, too nervous to step in or say a word considering what had just happened, he didn’t hesitate to rush to you and immediately embrace you, taking in your scent and warmth

even if this was nothing more than a dream, samatoki didn’t care in the slightest. for now, you were here, right in front of him, and he’d relish in your touch before you were gone again

honestly, he doesn’t even really care for your explanation right in that instant, simply more than content with the fact that you were finally in his arms again

and for a few moments or so, he didn’t let you talk. all that mattered was that you were back, and if this did turn out to be a dream, then samatoki wanted to take in your scent and warmth before you were gone

of course, you did eventually explain everything to him, from how you got hypnotized to how you were ordered to leave him, though towards the end you couldn’t help but omit a few tiny details given how he looked like he was about to burst with anger

seeing you standing in front of him, safe and very much alive, samatoki felt relieved and happy, overwhelmingly so. there was no longer that tense atmosphere around you that he had felt beforehand, and this time, he could tell that it was you that was standing in front of him now

but he also felt rage, at both himself and chuohku

at chuohku for, well, hypnotizing you as well as separating you both, but also at himself for being so weak and incompetent

seriously, how could samatoki live with himself knowing that he hadn’t been able to save both you and nemu. you had to break out of the hypnosis by yourself and find him again, not the other way around

regardless, for now, samatoki wouldn’t let you go

definitely got quite overprotective for a while after, practically never leaving your side, even if you were simply going out for a few small chores

he had already lost you once, and he certainly wasn’t about to go through it again

you knew that he had good intentions, and you were thankful that he did care, but it did get a bit much at times

needless to say, however, you were happy to have reunited with him, and so was he

Sasara

the entire thing had hit him pretty hard to say the least

i can see sasara begin to ruminate and perhaps even blame himself on not noticing how you were beginning to feel about the your guys’ relationship

it seemed like no matter what he did, sasara was simply not good at people and anything pertaining to relationships; and that realization hurt him to say the least. not only had he lost the person that he loved with all his heart, but now he was all alone

even though he moved on, sasara still longed for your presence. he often found himself wishing that you did, in fact, come back one day, and you guys would resume your relationship as if nothing ever happened

he had no idea that he was not only a comedian, but also some sort of genie (he kids, but it’s strange that he got his wish not even a few days after the fact)

a knock on the door during the late afternoon could’ve meant anything, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to see you, though it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless

he’s quick to open the door and accept you in, despite the fact that you had left without a trace a few months prior. sasara was sure that you had your reasons, even if they didn’t make much sense to him right then and there

he still held a lot of love for you, so as long as you did apologize and explain why you did it, then sasara thought that he’d be able to forgive you

at first, sasara stays quiet, not really knowing what to say in such a strange turn of events. sure he’s thought of this scenario hundreds, if not thousands, of times before, but now that it was reality, he pretty much froze up

breaking the awkward tension between you two, you apologized for everything that happened, explaining how you were hypnotized by chuohku one day and had no choice but to comply

and with that explanation, sasara began to connect the dots as to why you had acted so strangely back then and why you seemed much more distant and emotionless. you hadn’t been in control of your actions, and as such, it wasn’t actually you that had left him

honestly, he does feel a bit guilty for not realizing it sooner and for thinking that you actually did feel that way, but sasara brushes that feeling off for now and simply embraces you

right now, all that mattered was the fact that you had returned safe and sound, no longer hypnotized and under the control of someone else

of course, he couldn’t help but get angry at chuohku for having done such a thing, but sasara also knew that there wasn’t much he could do about that aspect of it all. they were simply much stronger and larger than sasara, so it’d be a waste of energy to go after them

instead, it’d be much better if he focused on you and only you right now, wanting to try his best to comfort and calm you down. you were no doubt a bit shaken up by what had occurred, and he was the only one that could make you feel better right in this moment

for the next few weeks or so, you’ll find sasara to be a bit more clingy than usual, always texting you and asking if you were alright or needed anything

the entire incident made him realize that he really wasn’t that perceptive of others and how they felt, so sasara wanted you to feel nothing but the utmost comfort and joy. he wanted to show you simply how much he loved and valued you

his efforts were really sweet to say the least, and you were happy to finally be back 

[shushiyuii]

Atlantic Runaways (Part 2)

I’ll finish requests when i can i just didn’t wanna leave you guys without anything, i might be busy tomorrow too so i’m sorry but heres Atlantic Runaways part 2! I hope you like it!

Warnings: Drowning, mentions of fatal vore, Safe and Soft vore. 

Words: 1.2K

It wasn’t the first time he’d almost drowned but it’s the first time he’d ever been close to being murdered, in particular by somebody he considered to be an acquaintance, but who knew he could be such an ass?

He wanted to scream, yell for help but he knew nobody would come, he wanted to cry he was scared, every attempt at swimming back to the surface was just bringing him even deeper into its depths.

He remembered Wilbur had saved him once, but he doubt he would do again, the two had never really bonded. Wilbur probably wouldn’t care if he died, only happy to probably have a snack afterwards.

He saw something swimming in the shadows before his vision began to fade, he could make out a large mer tail in the distance, he could hear Wilbur call out with a thrill, he wondered why he called out? Was he about to be eaten?...

He was surprised he wasn’t passed out yet from lack of air, but he was always a fighter and guessed it was that Wilbur let out another thrill as he came closer to Tommy, Tommy looked back to see him coming closer with his arms reached out, seemingly in worry but he could barely focus and Wilbur seemed to see that.

Instead, Wilbur opened his mouth wide, and Tommy came to the conclusion he was food, the next thing he knew blacked out as he entered Wilbur’s mouth. Wilbur stuffed Tommy into his mouth as quickly as possible, he could feel that the boy was limp in his mouth, he hoped he wasn’t too late as he swallowed, him probably being the only source of air nearby.

He sent the boy down to his storage stomach as he felt him pass his throat, he hopped the pressure would be enough to help with his situation and soon felt him reach his storage, he chirped in worry as he held a hand over his stomach. Not wanting this poor boy to be hurt.

Now, he hated his trainer but now he hated him even more as he tried to kill an innocent human and there was no way he was letting Tommy out when there was him around, especially after he tried to kill the boy.

He hated to admit it but this human may have gotten into his heart a little bit, Tommy was the only one who seemed to care about him, so why shouldn’t he protect the boy? At least as much as he could.

It made him think of humans he’d see with their older siblings, always looking after their younger sibling and protecting them despite pretending not to care? It reminded him of his relationship with the boy and what it was currently like, he hoped that his relationship could only grow deeper with the poor boy.

He swam towards his cave, keeping his focus on Tommy for a while until inevitably falling asleep from exhaustion for a few hours.

The first thing Tommy woke up to was coughing his lungs out, his throat and tongue tasting somewhat salty. Once he stopped coughing, he wondered where he was as he was drowning, it was cramped, squishy, soft even. Until he realised inevitably that he was in Wilbur’s stomach and screamed in panic.

Wilbur woke up a groan as he felt a weight in his storage stomach, surprised by it for a moment when he realised Tommy was inside, he put a hand to where he felt Tommy squirm and put pressure on it, even rubbing and chirping in an attempt to comfort the human.

Tommy felt the walls crush in on him slightly, giving him less room to move, was he finally being digested by Wilbur? But for some reason there was a rubbing in a spot, he wondered why but couldn’t come to a conclusion as his mind was swirling with panic, he could barely breathe.

Wilbur swam towards the surface, focusing on the weight in his stomach as he brought the human back into his throat and into his mouth. He brought his hands to his and carefully brought Tommy out, being careful of his fangs.

Once Tommy was out, he immediately opened his eyes and looked around in a panic, he looked up to see Wilbur staring down at him in concern.

He gently put Tommy to the edge of the pool, being careful to not hurt him. He went to dive back into the water as he didn’t want to startle Tommy more than he already had. But before he could Tommy reached out for him “W-wait!”.

Wilbur looked back to see Tommy clearly startled, shaking somewhat and what seemed to be tears threatening to leak in his eyes. Wilbur brought his face closer and saw Tommy flinch back, the poor boy was probably scared after that. He chirped again in worry.

Tommy didn’t flinch again when he chirped, instead, seeming to understand Wilbur’s chirping came from a place of concern, he was familiar with mers, not only that but people as well.

“H-how am I alive?”. He looked down at the ground, he seemed confused about what had happened. Wilbur hadn’t spoken in a while, but it was worth a shot. “Brood pouch, a thing Mers have…”. He looked away, he heard Tommy gasp.

Despite the voice being somewhat raspy, he heard Wilbur talk! He knew Mers could talk but he had no idea Wilbur himself could talk, “W-wait! You can talk?!”. He sounded surprised.

Wilbur looked back at Tommy with a small smirk, finding the human’s reaction amusing. “Well of course I can! Mers can talk!”. “I-I know Mers can talk prick! I just didn’t know you could talk! Would’ve made things so much simpler than before!”.

“I’ve never talked to humans before so consider yourself lucky”, “Where’d you learn to talk?”. “My mother was a big fan of human culture, often teaching me things about humans such as the way they speak.”.  Tommy made an ‘oh’ sound in realisation.

“Wait, you said brooding pouch, what’s that?”. “Essentially what you humans would call a secondary stomach, except without the digesting parts and shit, rather a place to keep younger Mers safe”. “So, I was safe in there?”. “Exactly.”. “Why’d you save me?”. Wilbur looked away again.

“Because I do not simply have the heart to kill anybody, besides maybe that dickhead of a trainer who just tried to fucking kill you”. Tommy looked down after that, realising the fact that he was actually almost killed.

“I- He threw me in there…”. He muttered after a moment of silence, Wilbur turned his head back, worry clear in his expressions as he crept closer to Tommy. “Are you alright?...”. He whispered in hopes of not startling him.

After that the human seemed to break down into sobs, finally coming to terms with the facts. He reached out to Wilbur, despite not expecting comfort. Wilbur responded by putting his nose near Tommy to hug as he cried his eyes out. And brought a claw over the boy protectively.

Giving them privacy despite the place being closed and nobody to intrude. That was when he decided to keep a closer eye on Tommy, as he decided at that moment that Tommy was his human.

He hushed the boy, assured him that he’d be safe and that he would protect him. To which Tommy thanked him, bringing a smile to Wilbur’s face, the first time he smiled in a long time.

“You should get home, your family must be worried”. Luckily enough the staff were incompetent to leave the doors unlocked so the two said their goodbyes for the day. A start of a bond.

[neko-rogers]

hey!! I’m not sure if your inbox is still open but I thought I’d send this just in case! what would you think abt a dark!peter who’s obsessed w s/o and offers to have her stay with him during like the stay-at-home pet of covid so she’s not alone then when it’s lifted he’s like lol you’re not leaving. sorry that’s kinda long and super specific. i absolutely love your writing though!!💗

Jamie All Over

words: 2,040 (no, i should be sorry bc this was chaotic)

tags: didn’t expect it to be this LONG, manipulative!peter parker, grooming, overprotectiveness, slight mentions of sex, don’t expect too much lmao its a headcanon

a/n: hi babe! i wasn’t entirely sure if you wanted this as a one shot (but if u do let me know!)

so you’re pretty unaware of every move peter is trying to do with you, you know? you were not really sure if it was a kind gesture, as the gentleman he seemed to be, or was it just a special treatment

ever since second year and until now as both of you were on your fourth year, he was consistent with his efforts

these moves were moments like when he would carry your books to your next class or confidently invite you to a study ‘date’ at the library after – often times he tells that his friends were invited, but would never show up later on

sometimes he would bring you lunch. you tried to turn it down kindly, but he insists that it was purposely packed as an extra for when he stays late around the university.

it was a lie though. anyone could tell by the way it was prepared looking very appetizing and tasted just as amazing at it was presented. 

and as peter had mentioned that he lived alone, you also assumed he was the one to make his meals. you were so sure he doesn’t pack for an extra and intentionally wants to impress you with his skills.

“hey, y/n!,” he calls, “look this eggroll has a cute design!”

he honestly was an epitome of a walking sunshine. his smile seemed so pure and you never felt any ill-intent for every gesture he had done for you

his friends seemed very welcoming the moment he introduced you to his group

you got along with ned who seemed to be just as joyful and funny as peter. meanwhile mj was a bit more of a tough cookie, nevertheless you both eventually got a long better than you expected

however, it came to one point wherein your own group of friends started being disheartened with your lack of communication

“you’ve been spending more time with that parker boy, huh?” “yeah, kinda?” “are you two like... dating?” “oh no! no... no... nooo!”

the moment they frowned at you was then that you realized and felt a little more guilty. you always remembered that friends were supposed to be friends despite the lack of time and effort, right?

somehow you tried to compensate for the lack of time with your friends. but every minute you spend felt more awkward than before

they weren’t sharing the same vibe with you and you were starting to question if it had been always like it – were you only adjusting to them?

you reached out for peter, considering that he became one of the closest and trusted people around the university. plus, he seemed to have genuinely great friends

“do you feel happy when you’re spending time with them?”

“well i used to but recently–”

“then you should stop being friends with them.”

you were upset for a second. the way he instantly told you that cutting ties with them would be the (only) option

he sounded serious on the other end of the line and you were just speechless for a moment. the dead air between lines was evident, but you didn’t know what to say

“sorry,” peter makes up, “i didn’t mean to sound too serious. i just don’t like people who are rude, especially to you.”

“oh, it’s fine. i totally get it.” you felt a batch of butterflies around your stomach. someone actually cared for you!!!

the moment you didn’t hesitate on losing your friendship with your past friends and moved on with joining peter’s group, things felt lighter.

somehow you felt more expressive than you realized. they were open to your ideas and thoughts, just as you were with them. you felt super comfortable and realized that you weren’t holding back on anything anymore

that’s why you had expected your winter break to be better than your past ones

everyone agreed to skate around the ice rink in rockefeller for christmas. along with it, also spending new year’s eve at the time square

news flash: you finally had the cliche new year’s eve kiss, with none other than peter parker!!! hooray!!!

for anyone who had common sense, your feelings for peter had accentuated. you weren’t denying it either, and the boy wasn’t oblivious to it too

he was just so irresistible and kind to you, like, all the time – to surreal, honestly

you felt and KNEW you were spoiled with peter (and his friends, who liked to spend time with you outside too, just not as much as him)

just as you were planning your spring break activities, it had to be postponed for another time

a lockdown had to be implemented around the country as it was under the state of a pandemic

mj and ned told the group that they’ll be with their families since lectures had to be concluded for the mean time

you planned to do the same, but you expected that this situation wouldn’t last long. so you chose to stay in your dorm rather than return to your hometown

completely sucks since you not only don’t get to hang out with your friends, but you weren’t able to see anyone in person...

until you got a text from peter

he was literally inviting you over his apartment since he explained that he wasn’t returning home either

you practically rushed to pack a small amount of clothes for a sleepover whilst not forgetting to wear a mask (bc it’s fucking important ok)

you arrived at his address and a big warm hug ensues 

his unit was so tidy and you were convinced he did it to impress you

peter was so happy to see you, acknowledging that you’re also spending a few nights with him

the nights mostly consisted of eating snacks and binge watching movies

however during one of those nights, both of you got a bonus – making out on his couch and further, completely forgetting the television

making out with peter wasn’t awkward at all. most of the time he was the one in control, which you didn’t mind

his hands treated you so gently but the way he teased you made you crave for more than what he was offering

a lot of whining, swearing, and begging – you weren’t aware but he was enjoying it a lot

on his side, he did praise you from time to time, but most of it consisted of raw tension and actions. the room was full of grunts and short breaths 

just want to include how sexy peter would be while he moans all over you. like his whole sunshine personality just drained away the moment he places his hands on either sides of your waist

the next day you felt like a princess even though you know it shouldn’t be???

apparently peter prepared breakfast for you and you felt embarrassed walking around his place only in the shirt you wore yesterday and underwear

just when you thought the extra lunch he packs for you was already amazing, the breakfast he prepared whilst being fresh and hot was just incredible

“you really like it?”

“of course! you really have to teach me to cook sometimes”

peter laughs and jokes, “yeah, don’t worry. i feel like we’ve got a lot of time ahead.”

ok fast forward to a few more days when you were beginning to feel like a freeloader. he lets you borrow a few of his clothes as yours were in the laundry

by the time you wanted to stop by your place, peter started to be more... clingy

at first he didn’t want you to go but after a few more debates, he felt defeated and instead insisted on going with you

eventually you caved and let him. it wasn’t that bad either, he talked to you about a lot of things on the way leaving you entertained the whole walk without realizing how far it had been

he helped you ‘pack’ more stuff so you wouldn’t be going back and forth from his place and yours. you felt like you were going out of town for a month with the amount of clothes and products

both of you returned to his place around late afternoon. you felt pretty tired and didn’t hesitate to pass out on the living room couch

when you woke up you sensed that you were in peter’s bedroom, meaning he carried and tucked you during the night

plus! an arm was wrapped around your midriff and you could feel peter’s breathing against your side

you closed your eyes and appreciated the moment. it was cute and made butterflies flutter around your stomach, and you tried not to move much to not wake him up

anyways apparently the pandemic lasted longer, and more serious, than expected (fuck the government and their incompetency) 

you spent more time with peter and was thankful that you didn’t spend this quarantine alone

within a blink of an eye, a month and a half already had passed. you couldn’t deny that most, or all, days have been unproductive

eat, cook, watch tv, cuddle, fuck, repeatedly get spoiled??? yeah sounds like the dream

weird though because you haven’t completely brought up to peter if you’re actually in a relationship with him. oh no were you just friends with (a lot) of benefits??

but you also felt like it wasn’t the time to bring it up. neither of you were saying anything so it was best to let it be for the fear that things might go downhill from there

anyways this continued for more weeks, especially since the ‘stay-at-home’ policy was deemed necessary

you started to help him do errands around the apartment just to feel like you weren’t an actual freeloader – but it wasn’t a surprise when he kept insisting that you should relax

more cute moments

more sexy times

and more cuddles during night (peter’s grip became tighter every night, but you shrugged it off assuming that it was just you getting homesick and overthinking)

ok but when you brought up being homesick and mentioned that you planned peter wasn’t entirely happy about it

the way he acted wasn’t just clingy. he insisted that he’d be the one to go and that you were staying

“ok but i’m not a dog, peter?” “i know, honey, but it’s too dangerous outside. i wouldn’t want you to be at risk.” “i wear a mask?? i follow health protocols?? i’ll be fine??” “you don’t understand–”

oh god he was becoming controlling

you tried not to argue anymore, rather ignoring and pushing past him to proceed to the door

and peter instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist and prevented you from walking further

there was a lot of struggling, but you didn’t know he was this strong. literally what the hell.

you tried to scream too but he pretty much threatened you to your core

“let’s talk this out,” he grunts as he secures his grip around you

“the hell? let me go!”

things got more complicated. he did convince you to talk with him (by means of tying your arms and legs to incapacitate you from running and righting)

it was a nightmare. he was really soft and sweet with you, even getting teary eyed after stating, “i only want what’s best for you... for us”

however you could sense the manipulativeness through it despite being making everything else look convincing

“trust me, sweetie, i wouldn’t want to hurt you. it would crush me” “please don’t cry. i’m only protecting you” “people are disgusting, they don’t deserve an angel like you” “don’t worry, i can protect you”

it terrified you to your nerves, sending shivers across your spine

at first you didn’t realize it, but eventually after days of being trapped, you figured he had been grooming you the whole time

he tried to make you dependent of him and somehow he did a fine job. just not enough to completely exploit you

though, it made you question what would have been better in your situation: being conscious of his sly nature with the hope of escaping or being unaware and completely wrapped around his finger whereas letting him continue how greatly he had been caring for you?

[kevindayscrown]

The one where Kevin Day falls in love with an ice hockey player.

Part 15

Epilogue 

Anything included in this head canon takes place the semester after the Foxes won the championship against the Ravens.

Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about varsity teams in the United States so excuse any false information. Head over to the directory to find the previous parts, and follow this link for the fan fic version.

Kevin still carried the keys to the Court, so he was the one to lead the hockey players inside and hand them some spare equipment. Each Exy player had at least four spare sets but most of Eric’s team were either Matt’s or Kevin’s size, so they used their equipment.

Eric borrowed Matt’s uniform and gear, and Kevin watched the two from afar as they talked, raising an eyebrow as they seemed to be suspiciously getting along.

This was still a bit surreal for both teams, but so far so good. No fights broke out and, if anything, the Foxes of each team were probably starting to realize that all along, they had been contributing to a useless and pointless feud.

“Mind giving me a hand?” Eric asked Kevin, holding out the pads. Kevin raised an eyebrow as he strapped on his own knee pads and then stood up from the bench. He grabbed the ones Eric was holding out for him and helped him with them, even if he knew that the other had no need of his help.

Eric smiled at Kevin, and even if he got no smile in return, he was still satisfied with whatever intimacy the two shared.

“Here,” Kevin said and handed a spare racquet to Eric, who held it carefully in his hand and examined it. Kevin could tell that it probably felt a lot different to a hockey stick, but Eric did not hesitate.

“Ready?” Nate asked his captain, who spared a glance at his boyfriend before turning and following Matt out on the court.

Explaining the rules of the game to the hockey team was a long and vigorous process. Eventually, they all decided that they would have to learn by actually playing, and got their positions on the court.

Kevin glanced at Eric but couldn’t really read his expression through the grated front of the helmet. He could imagine, however, the other grinning like an idiot. Kevin hadn’t realized he was smiling at the thought of it.

Dan started them off and, if Kevin had been a patient person who played Exy for fun, he would have laughed at the other team’s incompetence. Instead, he didn’t hesitate to run them to the ground, perhaps as pay back for the embarrassment he had felt during his first time on ice.

Despite scoring several times, Eric eventually started catching up. He was an amazing goaltender when it came to Ice Hockey, and as time went by, it started showing on the Exy court as well.

The first time he caught the ball and stopped Kevin from scoring, Kevin halted and stared at him. This time, he could definitely tell the other was grinning. It immediately made his blood start boiling, in a familiar rush of stubborn determination to wipe it off.

The next time Kevin came for Eric, he fired at the goal with everything he had in him. However, the striker knew nothing about how Eric worked as a goaltender, unlike with his usual opponents. So, he had no idea the other was going to easily predict his move and catch the ball. Again.

“Come on Day, is that the best you can do?” Eric called. Kevin was not sure if he could tolerate someone who had no idea about Exy mocking him in such way, no matter who that was.

What started as a friendly game evolved in something else, at least for Kevin. The court was supposed to be his domain, and he wouldn’t stand for anyone proving him otherwise.

The hockey players knew how to tackle, that was for sure. Nate was close to pinning Kevin against the plexiglass, but Matt drove him off of Kevin so he could run for the goal.

He scored this time, and the friendly game ended with the Exy team having gathered more points, as predicted. Kevin was still sour though, as petty as that was. He tugged the helmet off and shoved his armored gloves in it, stepping off court.

“Damn, that went better than expected,” Nicky said with a laugh. “For a moment there, I though you might have a chance to beat us at our own game.”

Kevin sent a glare his way but Caleb laughed and patted Nicky’s shoulder in an unexpectedly friendly manner.

“Give us a bit more time and we will run you to the ground,” he said with confidence that had Kevin scoffing as he headed to the locker room. Eric followed behind and leaned in close to his ear.

“Someone is sour, even for a winner,” he said and Kevin turned to glance at him, before opening his locker and starting to shove his gear inside.

“I have nothing to be sour about when playing with someone who has no idea about the game.”

The sounds of the Foxes moving around and changing while talking amongst themselves occupied the silence between them as they got changed. It was uncharacteristic of Eric to not rebuke, but Kevin took that as a win.

Both teams filed out of the locker room but before he could follow, Kevin found himself trapped between Eric’s arms, the other’s hands pressed on the now closed lockers.

Kevin didn’t move, still facing away from him. “Is there anything you need, Jiang?” He asked, sounding smug only until he felt the other’s breath on his neck. It made Kevin shiver whole, to the point he clenched his hand again and pressed it against the locker.

“It’s kinda hot when you get all angry. But at the same time, it makes me remember why I used to want to punch you in the face,” he whispered into Kevin’s ear. Kevin closed his eyes, forcing himself to keep up the façade with a scoff.

“Did you ever really forget?” He asked. Eric laughed, and the vibrations of it against Kevin’s skin made the striker shudder yet again.

“I suppose that on the rare moments you are being affectionate, I might forget about it. But you are making it harder right now,” Eric mumbled in a soft tone. Kevin had to roll his eyes at the pun that would make Nicky very proud.

He finally turned around to look at him, their faces merely inches apart. The way his heart was pounding reminded him of older times, when the adrenaline of the fight would take over them both until they were at each other’s throats.

“You are so fucking annoying,” he whispered against Eric’s lips and closed his eyes, his hands moving to grip the hem of the other’s shirt and pull him closer.

Eric laughed again, but it was low and taunting.

“Mhm, I like you too,” he said and then pressed his lips hard against Kevin’s, pinning him back against the lockers. Kevin grunted against his lips and pressed him closer on his own body by the waist, until there was no space between them.

Kevin had once thought that he needed no distractions from Exy. Physical relationships, like the one he had developed with Thea, were the only ones he would allow himself to have. Not only that, but there had never been someone willing to try and break through the walls he had built around himself.

Somehow, it now made sense that someone as stubborn and caring like Eric would be the one to achieve that. Kevin felt as if he was genuinely happy for the first time in his life. Not necessarily just because he’d found someone who understood and was willing to be there for him, but also because finding himself in such an unfamiliar situation had tested his limits and had also tested him as a person.

“Shall we get the hell out of here?” Eric muttered as they finally pulled apart. Kevin chased after his lips for a moment until he realized what he was doing and stopped himself.

“Yes. Let’s go,” he whispered and reached to hold Eric’s hand.

He intertwined their fingers and held onto his hand, not looking back at the Foxhole Court as they left together.

[khaleesiofalicante]

ALEC WEEK - ALEC ANGST

“I got this one,” Alec yelled over his shoulder and ran after the demon.

Being the Consul involved a lot of desk work. While Alec did appreciate getting to stay at home with Magnus and the kids…

Well, he was a Shadowhunter after all.

He had kind of missed this. The patrols. The adrenaline.

Most of all, fighting with Jace.

So, when Jace had asked him to join him on patrol, Alec had jumped on the opportunity.

But now of course he was regretting it a little bit.

When Alec had said he wanted to kick some demon ass, he had been hoping for a dozen at most.

Not this.

They had fought almost double that so far and there was many more on the way.

Jace used to call himself a chick-magnet long time ago. But in actuality, his parabatai was a demon-magnet.

Wherever Jace went, they just seemed to hang out in hoards.

They had strategized to find the greator demon that was sending out the little minions. Alec had followed one while Jace followed another. It got darker and darker with every step until Alec found himself drowning in the night. Maybe he had wondered into a cave or something.

He quickly activated his night vision rune. But it didn’t help.

This wasn’t a cave. This was magic. Demonic magic.

“Alec!” he heard Jace yell. “Can you see anything?”

“No!” Alec yelled back.

Jace sounded like he was both close and miles away.

“This is some sort of trick,” Alec said.

“Yeah, no shit,” Jace yelled back. “Let’s get out of here.”

It was then Alec heard a low chuckle.

There was something eerily familiar about it. It sounded like someone he recognized – almost.

They were still plunged in darkness, but somehow Alec noticed a figure emerge. He pointed his bow at the man.

It looked like a man. Tall. Lean. Well built. Strong.

Oh god. Surely not another prince of hell. Haven’t they had enough of those things?

The closer it got, the faster Alec’s heart started to beat.

He knew he should run. But he didn’t.

The presence felt both like a threat and an ally at the same time.

Alec didn't want to hesitate any longer. He let the arrow fly.

The figure pulled out a bow out of nowhere and let his own arrow fly. It was like watching lightening. The figure’s arrow clashed with his own and burst into dust.

“Nice shot,” the figure said as it approached him. “Next time don’t hesitate so much. It can get you killed.”

“Jace!” Alec shouted.

But there was no response.

“Who are you?” Alec yelled at the figure.

He didn’t know why we was yelling. But it seemed like the right thing to do. His shirt was soaking in sweat, his fingers trembling slightly.

“It’s me,” the voice said.

As the figure closer, a small gasp escaped Alec’s mouth. He would recognize the figure anywhere.

Even in the depths of such darkness.

“Or should I say, it’s you.”

Alec took a step back.

It was him.

It was Alec. In shadowhunter gear. His hair out of place. His bow and quiver hanging on his side.

It was Alec and it wasn’t.

Despite all the similarities, Alec knew it wasn’t him.

This one seemed…empty.

Or full.

He didn’t know.

But what gave him away was his fingers - And the lack of his favorite and only piece of jewelry.

There was no wedding band.

“Stay back, you son of a bitch,” Alec didn’t hesitate this time.

“Is that anyway to talk about our mother?” other Alec chuckled.

“This is some sort of demonic trick,” Alec said, mostly to himself.

“Duh,” Other Alec rolled his eyes, the gesture intimately familiar.

Alec let another arrow fly but again – he just wasn’t fast enough.

It was almost as if the Other Alec knew what he was going to do.

“Of course, I know what you’re going to do,” Other Alec said. “I’m you, aren’t I?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I know what you’re thinking too,” Other Alec pointed out. “Right now, you’re thinking if Jace is okay.”

Alec held up his bow again even though it was pointless.

“He is okay,” Other Alec waved him off. “He has his own nightmare to deal with.”

Nightmares.

Baku.

“You’re Baku,” Alec said, feeling slightly triumphant. “Eater of dreams. Greator Demon of Nightmares.”

“Well, technically, I’m Alec Lightwood,” the demon shrugged. “Consul in Exile.”

“Alec Lightwood-Bane,” he corrected out of habit.

“Of course,” Other Alec put up his hands, his bare fingers making him more and more worried.

“What is this supposed to be?” Alec demanded. “A nightmare? I’m not scared of you.”

“Aren’t you?” Other Alec cocked his head. “You are your greatest fear, Alec.”

“Bullshit,” Alec spit. “I’m not afraid of myself. Not anymore.”

“Are we sure about that?” Other Alec asked again.

“Yes,” Alec snapped. “I can’t hurt myself anymore.”

“Well,” Other Alec shrugged. “You can still hurt others.”

Alec stared.

It was like the demon had shot him with an arrow. Right in the chest. 

“I know you, remember?” Other Alec grinned. “I’ve seen your dreams. Your nightmares.”

“You know nothing!” Alec yelled and let another arrow fly.

Useless. Other Alec dodged it effortlessly.

“How many people should keep getting hurt, Alec?” his own voiced asked himself. “How many people should get hurt because of your incomptency?”

His throat felt dry. His head ached.

He heard the questions from Other Alec who was in front of him.

But he heard them echo inside his head too. Like he was thinking these thoughts right now.

As if he had been thinking them forever.

“I’m not incompetent!” Alec said through gritted teeth.

“Say that to Max,” Other Alec sneered.

Alec’s heart clenched.

“Or Dad,” Other Alec whispered.

And then it broke.

“I-I tried,” Alec stammered. “I tried to save them.”

“You weren’t even there,” Other Alec accused.

“Stop it!” Alec let another arrow fly.

Nothing.

“You know, it’s ironic that they named you Alexander,” Other Alec chuckled. “When have you ever protected anyone? All you’ve done is hurt people.”

“Shut up!” Alec yelled.

“You tried to hurt Clary because you were angry and jealous. You did hurt Magnus because you were angry and jealous. You tried to kill Camille. You did kill Meliorn. So, who’s next?”

“I’ve changed,” Alec argued, he didn’t know why. “I’ve grown.”

“Growing into a sorry excuse of a man,” the demon laughed. “Now they’ve made you Consul. What a great opportunity to let your entire race down!”

“I won’t!” Alec yelled, even though he had had already had nightmares about this very thing. “I won’t let them down. They chose me!”

“Oh please,” Other Alec rolled his eyes. “No one would have even considered you if it wasn’t for Jace. He felt sorry for you because you never get the spotlight. And everyone who voted for you did it because they felt sorry for you because you lost dad. It was a pity vote.”

“Get out of my head!” Alec screamed. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything.”

“On contrary,” Other Alec grinned. “I know you better than anyone.”

“Bullshit,” Alec said again.

“I’m your greatest fear, Alec,” the other man said.

“Because your cocky and rude?” Alec demanded, gaining his confidence back. “I don’t think so.”

“Because of this,” Other Alec raised his empty hand.

Alec swallowed.

“I would never remove my ring!” he said, his voice hoarse. “Never.”

“Aw,” Other Alec said. “Not even if Magnus asked you to give it back?”

The confidence that was slowly building inside him felt apart like a wave crashing into land.

“That’s right,” the man said. “He took it back. He took rafe. He left.”

“Magnus would never,” Alec said, clutching his own wedding ring.

The other Alec just grinned.

“Rafe,” Alec said suddenly. “You said he took Rafe. What happened to Max?”

Stop it. This isn’t real! But Alec couldn’t listen to that voice. Just the one before him.

“That name is cursed,” Other Alec said sadly. “Or maybe it’s just you. You’re not good enough to protect anyone.”

“Max is fine,” Alec told himself. “Max is okay. He is in the institute.”

“Not for long,” the Other Alec said in a sing song voice. “You will get him killed too. He will die. Alone and afraid. Just like your brother.”

Alec leaped at himself, but the figure simply disappeared and appeared in a different spot.

“Touched a nerve, huh?” Other Alec chuckled. “I wonder why.”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Alec let arrow after arrow fly.

Nothing.

“Useless,” Other Alec chuckled. “Don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“You will not touch my family!” Alec pointed an arrow. He’d stab the fucking thing to death if he had to. “Do you hear me?”

“I would never!” Other Alec sounded offended. “But can’t say the same for you though.”

“I will never hurt my family,” Alec replied, his voice getting lower and lower.

“You already have,” Other Alec pointed out. “Giving up immortality? Wow. What a slap in the face for Magnus. You know he could have had anyone, right?”

“We made the decision together!” Alec yelled. “Magnus wanted this too!”

“Of course he did, you selfish prick!” Other Alec yelled back. “He did because you did! It’s what you wanted. Because of your precious parabatai.”

“But J-Jace-” Alec stammered.

“You know,” Other Alec’s voice turned into a husky whisper, like he was sharing a secret. “Magnus knows. He has always known you would choose Jace over him.”

“This is just a dream,” Alec whispered to himself desperately. “Just a dream.”

“How about what happened in Thule?” Other Alec asked. “Was that just a dream too?”

Alec gasped.

“Never thought you’d have it in you,” Other Alec whistled. “You’re savage.”

“It wasn’t me!” Alec yelled.

“Wasn’t it?” the other man shrugged.

“All this talk about loving one man and changing the world for him and yet you killed him him with your own hands,” Other Alec shook his head in disappointment. “Magnus deserved better.”

“Don’t talk about Magnus like you know him!” Alec snapped.

“Oh fine. But I do know you, Alec Lightwood,” Other Alec moved closer. “I know your future. You might keep him happy now. But you will be his suffering. You will be his Bane.”

Images of Magnus flashed before his eyes. Magnus coping with his loss. Magnus not coping so well.

“Please,” Alec almost begged. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing at all,” the figure moved back. “I just wanted to talk.”

“You’re not gonna kill me?” Alec asked.

“What’s the fun in that?” Other Alec asked. “I’d rather keep you alive and watch you suffer.

“Get out,” Alec ordered, even though he knew he had no power.

“So sensitive,” Other Alec chuckled. “Fine. I’ll go for now. You better watch out, Alec Lightwood. Bad things are coming.”

“You stay away from, Magnus!” Alec yelled. 

“I could say the same to you,” Other Alec pouted. “Leave him. For his sake. For the sake of your childr-.”

“If you touch my kids-”

“I won’t,” Other Alec raised his hands. “But can’t say the same about their grandfather however.”

“Stay out of my head,” Alec hissed.

“No promises,” the demon of nightmares winked.

Alec felt the darkness slowly dissipate. His heartbeat getting stronger.

The shivers on his arms were just going down when he heard the voice in ear one last time.

“Oh, one last thing,” his own voice whispered. “Give my regards to Izzy.”

Alec’s body shuddered at that and he fell on his knees.

“Hey. Hey. Hey,” Jace was already by his side. “You okay?”

Alec just nodded, still trying to get back to reality.

“Dude, I’d take an army of raveners over this any day,” Jace said, looking rattled in a long time. “This shit was creepy as hell.”

“What did you see?” Alec asked.

“Some psycho version of myself. He kept talking about killing Clary,” Jace laughed, even though Alec sensed the nervousness in his voice. “As if that’s ever gonna happen.”

Alec nodded and slowly got up.

“What did you see?” Jace asked.

Alec thought of Other Alec.

The one without the ring. The one he knew would haunt his dreams every night from now on.

“Spiders,” he said. “Just stupid spiders.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Living Hell ~ MYG [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 4.2K

↬↬↬Genre: Angst, fluffy ending

↬↬↬Pairing: Min Yoongi X Gender Neutral Reader

The internship of a lifetime is what everyone was calling it but you called it your living hell, every day was a whole new way for Min Yoongi to torture you and make you want to quit doing the things you loved but you kept pushing on despite the feeling of wanting to give up. You weren't going to let someone push you aside like that even if it was every day. 

"Y/n!" You looked up from your pad of paper in front of your face to see Namjoon and Yoongi walking towards you, Namjoon had a smile on his face as he walked towards you questioning you on how your song was coming along. Every week BigHit set a task for the winners of the internship to work on songs and present them at the end of the week, 

"Really well," You kept it brief since Yoongi was giving you a death glare that you're sure would kill you given half of the chance but then again you were sure Yoongi would kill you given half the chance. The first time you met him you were sure it was just because you were new to the team and he wasn't sure on you but as time passed and he grew colder to you the more you realised he actually just hated you. 

"Did you hear me?" Namjoon questioned waving his hand in front of your face, you were staring off down into the hallway as though no one had been standing right in front of you. 

"Stupid little child," Yoongi mumbled pushing past you and walking towards his studio, you looked at Namjoon. 

"Sorry I was just thinking of some lyrics." You lied trying to pretend you hadn't heard Yoongi mumbling under his breath, it was something you were used to by now. 

"They have a competition coming up in a few days, they're going to select a few of you to do some work within a limited amount of time. I'm not supposed to tell you but I figured you could use the heads up." You thanked him while he walked off to his own studio, you stayed in the hall jotting down some lyrics to a song you'd been working on in the back of your notebook. Nothing that was ready to be heard yet but it was there if you ever needed something to work on.

"Y/n?! Are you done?" You glanced over at Yoongi who was standing with his head in the door of his studio, 

"Yes." You whispered walking over to him to see what he wanted this time, 

"Good. I need you to go and get all this for me, you'll be able to find it easily enough." He handed you a sheet of paper with a bunch of useless items on it, it looked like he was just trying to send you on a wild goose chase. 

"Why can't you do this yourself-"

"I'd be nicer to me if I were you, I'm the one that's going to be judging your work next week." He licked his bottom lip as he watched you stand up straight at the mention of him being one of the judges for the competition, 

"Then you understand that I need to work on my own things instead of yours..." You were doing your best to be kind to him, you'd been brought up to be kind to everyone you met. Treat people the way that you wished to be treated but Min-Fucking-Yoongi made that extraordinarily difficult for you to be nice to him with everything he was putting you through. 

Since day one he'd made it clear he had a strong dislike for you but you had no idea why. You'd been nothing but kind to everyone that worked in BigHit and Yoongi had been one of your inspirations so it was difficult to have someone you'd idolised for so long hate you without truly knowing who you were. 

"Listen, if you want to make it in this industry I suggest you do what I ask of you." He pushed the piece of paper into your chest and you hurried out of his studio, going to get your car keys from the small office you had been assigned on your first day.

"I'm sure you're all aware by now that there is a competition coming up. This will be the final test for the interns." Bang PD was speaking clearly as he looked over everyone in the room, all of the interns were sitting in front of the room watching him closely and listening for what they had to do. 

"I expect to see work from each of you by next week. People will be leaving us so let this be a warning if your work is anything less than what we expect you'll be forced to leave and your contract will be terminated with us." Swallowing the lump in your throat you wrote down what he was expecting from you all, the types of songs he wanted and how many. You were sure if you put your mind to it you'd be able to get everything he wanted from you and more, the thought of losing this opportunity physically hurt your chest when you'd done nothing but work towards it for years. It had been your dream since you could remember to work with music and BigHit was one of the leading companies that you'd wanted since you were 16. Nothing was going to stop you from working hard to keep this job.

A week passed and you'd tortured yourself trying to keep up with everything, Yoongi had you running around after him like you were his own personal maid. Treating you like a coffee maid instead of a producer who was working within the same industry as him. The only time you got to work on your own music was when it was late into the night and you were locked up in your studio, forcing yourself to stay awake until the unholy hours just to get at least one song done. You were ahead of an intern you knew but you didn't feel it was enough.

Today you were supposed to be working on the final song that would make your work stand out, a song about hardship and pushing through everything someone was throwing at you - you hadn't even noticed you'd written the song about Yoongi, as far as you saw it it was just a song about someone else going through a hard time. Your phone buzzed from beside you as you were about to lay your vocal track down,

[Yoongi]: Need your help in the studio, please.

The emoji he'd sent wasn't like Yoongi at all, a pleading face with a please at the end? It wasn't like Yoongi at all. Yoongi never said please, ever. Maybe he'd finally realised how much he'd pushed you this week and was trying to say sorry for it. You locked your desktop up taking your phone with you towards his studio, it was just up the hallway from yours so you wondered what the big deal could have been when you heard a crash coming from inside his room. 

"Yoongi?!" You panicked pushing open the door to see him standing in the corner of his room with a look of fear across his face, you glanced over at the shelves that were now hanging from the wall, one of them still swinging as it held onto the bracket in the wall. 

"What happened?" Your voice came out shaky and nervous as you stared at them in horror, everything looked like it was broken but repairable or in desperate need of a trip to the trash cans. 

"I was working and they just fell- You didn't do a good job on them!" He snapped at you pointing his finger in your direction, you turned to him. He was bringing this around to you? How had this been your fault when it was his office?

"Yoongi I didn't even install the shelves so would you like to explain how it's my fault?!" You lost your temper for a second but squeezed your thumb between your middle finger and ring finger to try and calm yourself down, bring yourself back to reality where he was your boss and not someone you should talk to that way. Even if he had done nothing but belittle you all week into doing stupid tasks for him. Monday it was running around stores for him to look for a certain writing paper, Tuesday he had you working on his tracks as well as cleaning his shoes, Wednesday he wanted the shelves cleaning so that's what you had done, Thursday he wanted you to take his car to get details and the list went on until today, Friday, the final day you had to work on your own things and you'd done nothing but run around after him like his own personal assistant - who he had you fire because she was 'incompetent' and he couldn't stand her working for him anymore. 

"I asked you to clean everything up there the other day so it's clearly your fault." He spat at you, you looked down at the floor to see shards of broken glass everywhere on the floor. If he wasn't careful he could seriously hurt himself and the thought alone made you anxious, 

"Whatever, I-I'll clean it up." You stuttered out not wanting to have a huge fight about it. Maybe it had to have been your fault you knew you'd cleaned up the shelves the other week but nothing you could have done would have caused the brackets to fall out of the wall the way they had. 

"Can you get me-" You went to asked him to get the dust-pan and brush but he was already out of the room and talking into his phone about something, 

"Fuck." You whispered standing up from the floor and going to find the things you needed yourself. 

"How's your project coming along Y/n?" Jungkook asked as he followed you up towards Yoongi's studio, he'd seen you walking through the building looking for something so he decided to come along with you. 

"I heard Yoongi-Hyung called you to his studio, seems like you guys have gotten really close over the last week." He chuckled rubbing the back of his neck as you walked, you laughed nervously. Everyone had noticed how close you worked with Yoongi but no one had noticed how he was treating you because whenever someone else was around it was as if he was a new person, acting like someone you'd known for years and not someone who was using you to get his own way.

"You could say that." It wasn't in you to bad mouth another person behind their back so you kept your mouth shut and opened the door to the studio, Jungkook's mouth hung open as he walked inside behind you looking around at everything. He was about to step further into the room when your arm reached across his chest to stop him from going any further into the room. 

"Careful there's bits of glass everywhere." You muttered nonchalantly to him as you got down onto your hands and needs to start cleaning everything up as quickly as possible.  

"What happened?" He asked looking at the shelves he frowned staring at them, 

"Yoongi was working when they fell," He scoffed at the word fell and walked over to them being careful not to step on anything that was on the floor but he ran he fingers over the holes in the walls. They hadn't fallen at all, they'd been ripped from the wall anyone could see that. He glanced down at everything at the floor and back up to the shelf as he tried to calculate something in his head, Yoongi had removed everything from the shelves and ripped them down before throwing everything onto the floor but why?

"What did Yoongi say happened?" He was sitting next to you now picking up big shards of glass and putting them into the bin beside you, 

"That he was working when they fell." He nodded looking at your face as you concentrated on not hurting yourself, 

"How much work do you have left to do?" He was sure this was nothing to do with your work and he was imagining things but Yoongi had been off lately but this wasn't like the Yoongi he'd known all these years. Why would Yoongi smash up his own things just to get you to stop working? 

"Not much, I have one song to finish and I'm done, I'll have it finished by presentation time tomorrow." You lied. You'd only have it finished if you stayed late again tonight - by staying late you meant falling asleep on the sofa in your office. 

When you finally made it back to your studio that night you were exhausted, you'd cleaned up every small fragment of glass you could find before you went on the hunt for photo frames that looked exactly like the ones that Yoongi had had on the shelves. You'd even gone to DIY stores to get filler for the walls, filling in the holes waiting for them to dry while you fixed up awards with glue you'd picked up. 

"Yoongi? What are you doing in here?" You asked tiredly as you saw Yoongi sitting on the sofa in your studio, his feet kicked up on the sofa as he looked at you. 

"I came to tell you about your work but you weren't here so I figured I'd wait for you." You frowned at him dropping the bag of rubbish outside the door for the night cleaners to come by and take, 

"What about my work?" You looked at the desktop in your studio to see that it was bluescreened, the sad sarcastic face that windows always had whenever a computer did this was evident on the screen. 

"What the fuck!?" You screamed rushing over to it, tapping on the keyboard to try and get anything to work, 

"It's alright, you backed everything upright?" He questioned smugly looking as you pulled out a USB stick from the back of the PC but it was snapped leaving the metal fragments inside of the computer. Your heart was pounding against your chest and tears rushed to your eyes as you thought about everything that was on the computer and USB drive. Yoongi smirked from behind you as you began to cry silently into your hands, he knew you weren't going to say anything to him so he turned to leave when you finally broke down. 

"Why?" You whimpered turning to look at him, tears were streaming down your face as he locked eyes with you. His chest panged with guilt as he saw the broken look across your face, 

"Why do you hate me so much?!" You questioned looking at him and then at the computer, 

"I've done nothing but work my ass off since I got here! But yet you treat me like I'm nothing, why? What did I ever do to you that was so bad?!" You were yelling, Yoongi had never even heard you talk above your normal tone before and it was shocking to have you yelling at him now. He felt bad. 

"Y/n-"

"No, don't ''Y/n'' me. Answer me, what did I ever do to you? You know, Jungkook told me that you probably ripped down those shelves but I've spent my whole day fixing everything for you, putting them back up and making sure they're level. Replacing everything you smashed up, cutting up my hands." You mumbled showing him your plastered covered hands. 

"Do you want me to quit? Because if so you got what you wanted." You were calmer now which scared Yoongi even more than when you were yelling, you grabbed your bag from the back of the door and walked away from him. 

"I quit. You can have the honours of letting everyone know for me." You walked out of the hallway and onto the staircase of the BigHit building falling onto the step and clutching onto the railing as you sobbed into your hands about everything he'd put you through over your time there.

Yoongi made his way back to his studio looking around, everything was perfectly arranged the way he had it before he'd wrecked it all. The shelves were a little lower than they had been but the holes had to be covered somehow. The trophies he had on display were all fixed back together, you could hardly notice the cracks within them unless you knew they were there and the photographs were back in frames like the ones he owned. You'd done a brilliant job on everything and yet he'd treated you the way he did, he reached into his pocket to take out the real USB stick he'd taken from your computer with everything on it and he put it into his own computer loading everything up onto his system. 

"Yoongi?" He looked over his shoulder to see one of the night security men, 

"Yeah?"

"It's Y/n again Sir, we found them asleep on the steps, what should we do?" He sighed coming out of his office to see you asleep in the arms of another security guard. They'd found you like this a couple of times over the months of you working for BigHit and they always came to Yoongi since he'd told them to whenever they saw you asleep somewhere that wasn't your own studio. Yoongi had found you asleep on his sofa one night and carried you to yours so that you could get some decent sleep. 

"Take them to their studio," He mumbled walking behind them as they carried you towards your room. They laid you down before leaving and he stared at you, the way your brows furrowed together as you dreamt about something you didn't like,

"Yoongi go away," You whimpered in your sleep and he sighed running his hand along your cheek using his thumb to caress your skin as he realised he was the bad thing you were dreaming about.

Groaning as you woke up the next morning you looked around you to see you were in your office, your computer still had the patronising sad face over the screen that made you want to put your fist through the screen just so it would go away. You sat up on the sofa to see a blanket had been laid across your body, a glass of water and orange juice was on the table along with a note. 

Meet me in my studio - Yoongi 

You scoffed at the note throwing it into the bin and running your hairs through your hair, you opted out of drinking the drinks he'd left you and headed to the mirror in your room to try and make yourself look at least a little presentable and not that you'd spent the night on your studio sofa which wasn't even your studio anymore. You were going to quit. You weren't going to take it anymore. Throwing the door open you made you way down the hall ignoring Yoongi's door as you passed it heading straight to Bang PD instead of going to Yoongi like he'd asked of you. 

"You're telling me you're quitting?" Bang PD asked as he looked up from the work on his desk, he was marking through papers with his glasses pressed up against his face, 

"Yes Sir, I know it's short notice but my work, there was an accident with my computer and it's gone. To save a lot of hassle I decided to quit that way you won't have to fire any competent interns." The door to his office opened and closed, Yoongi stood behind you panting heavily. 

"They're not quitting Sir, they're just tired." He was breathing heavily and PD put his pen down onto the table sighing as he watched the both of you bicker back and forth about quitting, 

"Don't let them quit," Yoongi spoke louder than you could and you stared at him as he stepped in front of you and began ranting quickly as though he was rapping,

"Their PC was corrupted last night and I have their original work on a USB stick, there's no need to fire Y/n or let them quit so please just...Don't let them, it's my fault all of this happened, Sir. I took everything Y/n was working on and it's ready for your viewing in the main presentation room."

Bang PD had reviewed everything on the CD while you stayed silent listening to yourself singing on the tracks along with Jungkook and Jimin who were included in some of the songs. 

"This is exceptional work Y/n." Bang PD said as he turned around to face you on the chair, 

"I won't stop you from quitting if it is something you want to do but from what I've heard we would be at a loss without you on our team." You stared down at the floor nodding along to what he was saying, 

"I'll give you some time to think things over," He patted your back leaving you and Yoongi alone in the room, as soon as the door shut you turned to him. 

"Do you think this would fix anything between us? That you presenting my work as if everything was fine would be okay!? Are you fucking-" You were cut off when his lips touched yours, his hands pressed on the back of your head to bring you closer to him. Your eyes widened as you realised you were kissing him, slowly they began to flutter shut as you leant into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were kissing Min Yoongi...You were kissing Min Yoongi?! The guy that had made your life hell. You pushed him away from you and shook your head, tearing up as you thought about it. 

"Are you actually insane?!" You spat at him glaring at him as he smirked wiping his lips with his hand, 

"I think that's the best kiss I've ever had, come here-"

"Wipe that smirk off your face, you're deluded if you think that is ever going to happen." As much as you wanted it to it wasn't something that could happen again, 

"You've done nothing but make my life a living hell since I started here, why did you- Why would you-" There were too many questions to ask in such a short time span that you just took in sharp breaths trying to calm yourself down.

"Come on, I know I call you dumb Y/n but I don't mean it." He chuckled walking over to you again, he raised his hand to your cheek but you didn't move away you snuggled your face against it. Your whole body felt warm from the small interaction and he chuckled feeling your cheeks heat up and watched as you skin began to glow, 

"You like me and I like you, what's the big deal?" You moved away from him yet again, 

"The big deal is that you've done nothing but make my life hell, you made me think my work was gone and then magically think it's going to be fixed because I got to keep my job?" You asked him raising an eyebrow at him if he really thought that this was all going to be some magically happy ending he was wrong things like that only happened in the movies.

"Y/n please, I was- I was intimidated by you and you working so hard it scared me...I thought if I could push you down a little and make you work less I wouldn't have to be afraid." You rolled your eyes at the excuse he was spilling out to you and you went to leave the room but his hand was placed on top of yours, you would be lying if you said you didn't feel something there. It was as if there was a huge electric shock running throughout your entire body whenever he touched you.

"I like you, a lot, another reason I made you run around for me so I could see you more often than I normally would...It was wrong okay and I'm sorry but let me make it up to you. Don't run away from me." He pleaded with you, you turned to look at him and sighed. He looked sorry for everything he'd done and he was, he was terrified and felt guilty for everything he'd done. 

"Please."

"How?" You questioned folding your arms across your chest to seem more intimidating but mostly to get your hand away from his otherwise you were about to cave in to him right away. 

"I'll take you out, just us two. Away from all of this so I can prove how much I like you...Please?" You licked your lips pretending to think about it as if you didn't already have the answer 'yes' written in glowing lights above your head.

"Fine. One date and then we'll talk about it..." You whispered looking at him as he walked closer to you, pulling your hand into his and smiling softly. 

"I am truly sorry." He whispered kissing your lips softly as he stepped closer to you.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @taestannie @jooniesdarlingdimples @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @innersooya​ 

[jaskiersvalley]

Vulture In Lark’s Clothing

As a rule of thumb, Geralt didn’t ask questions. He assessed a contract from purely his own perspective, whether it was worth his time and danger and, if he deemed it valuable, he took it. No questions asked. No prying into who he was protecting, who he was escorting or why. If the money was good, he did it. It was why people liked him so much, employed him despite his less than sociable demeanour. The job got done and he didn’t fuss, even if he got blood and guts in his hair.

His latest contract was a curious one. Pick someone up from prison and escort them to the other side of the country to a hearing. Allegedly he was a witness but Geralt couldn’t care if it was his own hearing. A job was a job.

There have been many people Geralt had met but not a single one had been quite as exasperating as Jaskier. Who the fuck got arrested with only a lute and some fancy clothes to their name? Jaskier. Obviously. But it was neither here nor there. What mattered was that he was constantly making noise. Wherever he went, the lute did too. Even when Geralt threatened to throw it out the car window, Jaskier had just laughed and began composing a ditty about a tumbleweed crossing a country having more of a personality than Geralt.

The thing that made Geralt so good at his job was his ability to just deal with things without a fuss. He’d picked up on the fact they were being followed a while back. It wasn’t anything to be concerned about just yet. Well, he was concerned but he had it in hand. Their tail was keeping their distance, watching and assessing.

“So, our charming friend has been very thorough in his observations,” Jaskier commented out of the blue as they had stopped to get lunch. The ever present lute was leaning against his chair as he picked through a salad, eating all the onion from it.

“Nothing to worry about.” Geralt replied and munched steadily on his burger.

That night they were in a motel, Jaskier in the bed, Geralt on the sofa. When Geralt woke up suddenly, he tried to figure out what had roused him. A peek into the bedroom and Jaskier wasn’t there. Probably gone to the bathroom but checking there revealed an empty room. Scouting through the kitchen and living room, Geralt was ready to grab his guns and track down the idiot who stole him. To do that, he would need information, namely how some schmuck got into the bedroom and abducted Jaskier from under his nose. Pushing the bedroom door open, Geralt blinked. There was Jaskier, curled up in bed and fast asleep. Maybe Geralt was more tired that he’d thought, to have missed the fact Jaskier was there all along. He returned to the sofa and tucked his guns under the cushion, grumbling. Weirdly enough, their tail was gone the next morning.

One problem with Jaskier (well, one of the many) was the fact that he was so soft. Always demanding they stop over night somewhere with a decent bed, getting stroppy when they only bought food from a petrol station, he even went as far as kicking up a fuss when they hadn’t had the chance to shower for three days. How he survived in prison was beyond Geralt. He wouldn’t ask though, that wasn’t his place and asking meant he might actually care. Which he most certainly didn’t.

A spot of trouble happened at one of the restaurants they had stopped off at. A group of idiots had taken quite a dislike to Jaskier singing in the corner while Geralt ordered at the bar. They were closing in on him and Geralt could hear his name being called. To cut a violent story short, the men didn’t end up bothering Jaskier. But the price of that was being barred from the restaurant. From in front of the door they had just been thrown through, Jaskier turned, hands in the air as he cursed them, threatened to write a scathing song and leave a very rude review online. Silently, Geralt wiped the blood from his knuckles and walked towards the car. This job was starting be much more of a hassle than worth.

At least, he thought that until Jaskier turned his flirting to Geralt. It had been common enough for Jaskier to wink and compliment his way through any establishment they set foot in. Praise for the receptionist at the motel, a smile filled with promise to the attendant at the petrol station, he even had the gall to blatantly and appreciatively give the cleaner of the restaurant bathroom once over the one time. As an outsider, Geralt found it charmingly sleazy. But even he couldn’t deny that it was worth the small upgrades he would never have got before.

“You never know who you’re meeting,” Jaskier had reasoned.

The attention Jaskier started paying Geralt was awkward at first. Geralt had no idea what to do. He’d seen Jaskier go through the motions umpteen times before, knew it didn’t mean anything. And yet, he wanted to feel as special as Jaskier suggested he was. Which was just ludicrous, Geralt didn’t need someone’s approval or appreciation. Especially not from an incompetent criminal who got caught. And couldn’t even protect himself from a bunch of idiots at a restaurant. What Geralt missed was the news article about the murder or four men in the town they had just left behind, throats slit.

Whoever Jaskier was, Geralt was starting to realise that he was more important that he thought before. The closer they got to their destination, the more trouble they ran into. Not just people trailing after them now but actual attempts on Jaskier’s life. As if the idiot had actually realised. He merrily strutted through the world as if it was the safest place, strumming his lute and humming. And flirting. Always flirting, even with the pigeons by his feet if the mood took. Yet, Geralt still felt a warmth spreading through him whenever Jaskier smiled at him. It seemed like a special smile, warmer and even more sincere than the ones he gave everyone else. It made Geralt feel alarmingly disarmed in the face of it.

He’d just finished mopping up a trail of people after Jaskier who flounced through little side streets without a worry. This was the reason Geralt liked to wear black clothes, they didn’t show up anywhere near as much blood. Though, to be fair, he did try to just knock people out first. A warning of sorts that if they got near again, he could and would do so much worse.

“Ah! Geralt! I was wondering where you got to.” Jaskier skipped towards him. Actually skipped.

“I had business to take care of.” What he didn’t expect was for Jaskier to push his lute onto his back and stand almost nose to nose with him.

“My wonderful White Wolf, always keeping an eye out for me,” he breathed, eyes flicking to Geralt’s lips. As if Geralt wasn’t paid to keep him alive. It sure as shit wasn’t Geralt doing this out of the goodness of his heart. All thoughts however flew from his mind as Jaskier tugged him in for a kiss. There was a hand in his hair, a tongue in his mouth and a hand drifted over his hip.

The sound of a gun going off was deafening and Geralt froze, eyes opening to see Jaskier, eyes open and staring past Geralt’s head even as they kissed. Pulling away, Geralt looked over his shoulder. There was a body sprawled on the ground, very obviously dead. And Jaskier’s arm was still out, gun in hand.

“I think you missed one,” Jaskier smiled merrily as if he hadn’t just shot someone in a back alley. There was no response to that, Geralt’s brain was a blank static as he tried to realign his opinion or Jaskier with this new information.

“What?” That was going to have to do. It conveyed everything and Jaskier liked to talk anyway.

As expected, Jaskier laughed lightly and tucked the gun he’d slipped from Geralt’s hip back into its holster and patted his cheek fondly. “Well, you’ve been doing such a great job of taking care of the bumps along the road, I didn’t see the need to intervene most of the time.”

The ‘most of the time’ had Geralt’s hackles rising. He was damn good at his job and didn’t need some two-bit idiot claiming to step in to mop up after him. He growled low in his throat, a noise that usually sent most people scattering in fear. However, Jaskier just laughed in his face and called him cute, proceeded to plant another kiss on Geralt’s lips and turned to continue his journey, expecting Geralt to trail after him.

Things didn’t get easier after that. Geralt was trying his best to keep professional and not ask anything about just who Jaskier was. But it wasn’t very professional to fall into bed with Jaskier at any chance he got. Motel bed, bathroom stall, once even in the car, pulled over on the side of the road. It was messy but so damn satisfying.

As always, things went tits up three hours before they got to their destination. There was a car chase that ended with Jaskier hanging out the window of their car and taking alarmingly good potshots at their attackers. They worked in tandem with more ease than Geralt had ever experienced with anyone. While he was on the offensive, Jaskier was restocking in more and more creative ways. He sent a Molotov cocktail of, actually, Geralt didn’t want to think about what he found in the hardware shop to use for that. It exploded, there were screams and they had a window of opportunity to run.

In a way, Geralt almost regretted it. Because while he was loading his guns, Jaskier was hurling hammers, wielding circular saw blades like his personal throwing stars and causing a rather gory mess. At least Geralt managed to wrangle the chainsaw from his grip before he went into a full on fight with that. It was the moment Geralt understood how Jaskier survived prison.

Outside the courtroom, Geralt turned to Jaskier, finally asking the question he had been wanting to all along.

“Who the hell are you?”

It was met with a delighted laugh. “Ever heard of The Bard?” Geralt shook his head. “Little Lark?” Another shake of his head and Jaskier looked both exhilarated and aghast. “The hitman of the century? The singing killer? No?”

“No.” Geralt shook his head.

“In which case,” Jaskier stuck his head out, “I’m Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.”

“Oh,” Geralt heard that name before. “The one with all the sheep.”

Another light laugh and Jaskier nodded. “The one with all the sheep. Well, thank you for your help in escorting me across the country. I must go, take a plea deal. But be in Blaviken in a year. There’s a dear little cafe there, order me one of their chocolate twists and a cold chocolate for an 11 o’clock date. I’ll meet you there.”

Sure enough, Jaskier took a plea deal, his sentence was reduced from life to twenty-five years. How he thought he’d be in Blaviken a year on, Geralt couldn’t fathom. But once he got the chance, he sat down and did his research, to find out who exactly he had travelled with. And swallowed thickly in fear and awe. Because oh fuck, Jaskier had history and a list of kills longer than Geralt. And those were just the confirmed ones. Fuck.

Despite everything pointing towards the fact that Jaskier was in prison and with no way out, Geralt couldn’t help the small burning ball of hope in his chest. A year after the trial, he made his way to Blaviken. Even wore nicer clothes and brushed his hair - Jaskier had said it was a date after all. It felt a little silly to order for two when there was no chance his date would make it. But still, a coffee and blueberry muffin for himself, and a chocolate twist and cold chocolate for Jaskier.

Settling in the darkest corner of the cafe, Geralt sat back and waited. A shadow fell across his table and he looked up.

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood,” a familiar voice greeted him. For the first time in a long while, Geralt smiled.

[xmint-conditionx]

☆ flanked ☆ prologue | knj

(verb) flank - 

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 2K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: mentions of death, public embarrassment, military death, adult language ☆ a/n: hey everyone c:i’m really happy to be reuploading this fic; i’m going to set a goal of updating it once a month. this is my baby, and i want to do it right, so if it doesn’t come as predictably as i want it to, apologies in advance, but i really hope you enjoy what i have! 

this fic starts of intense and will only get more intense. i very much recommend double checking the warnings list because there’s gonna be some pretty heavy stuff in the prologue here and going forward. please do keep in mind that this is purely fiction and i do not want (most of) this to actually happen to anyone. it won’t all be sad though, promise! i mean it’s namjoon we’re talking about: the biggest goofball on the planet. there will be eventual smut, but we have to build up to it, now don’t we? thanks luv, enjoy!

Here you are, in the quaint little convenience store and dry cleaning shop right outside of post, on just another cloudy Winter Wednesday. However, today is a little different, because you have made it to the front of the line and have begun violently crying. Not one of those shedding a single tear cries, but a terrible cry that has taken hold of your entire body. A shaking, snot-faucet, fist-clenching cry. Nothing truly lamentable has happened, except for an inability to recall the Korean word for receipt. You’ve lived at Camp Walker for just shy of two years, so it’s safe to say your ineffectiveness in vocalizing your needs isn’t for lack of knowledge. Despite your quickly-grasped and quite thorough knowledge of the language, the overwhelming sadness and anger you possess about your situation somehow has evaporated away all your Hangul proficiency. Which has left you looking utterly incompetent. Of course a breakdown is in order. All you needed to do was pick up your dead husband’s dress blues for fucks sake, but you can’t remember how to speak and now you’re embarrassing yourself and wasting this poor lady’s time and why does this have to be so goddamn difficult.

The people behind you in line are now beginning to stare in a strange mix of confusion, concern, irritation, and apprehension. Perfect. You exit the line and begin sputtering out desperate attempts at the lost word, so entirely wrapped up in your own stupid brain that you fail to register the approach of a tall man in an American style ACU. A deep and calm voice eases out of the truly tree-sized man in front of you.

“Ma’am, do you need some help?” he asks.

Your vision is tear-ruined and the last thing you want is pity. Pity is exhausting. 

“Oh, you’re gonna help the poor little sad girl, huh?” you spit out at him, not even bothering to look up, “just tell me the fucking word for receipt please. That’s all I need.” 

Despite your downright rudeness, the man replies without hesitation. “Yeongsujeung. Are you sure that’s all I can help you with?” You look over towards the counter to see that the lady has begun helping other customers, and you really aren’t looking forward to waiting in line again. No pity, you remind yourself, so you shake your head at the man and meekly muster out a “gamsahabnida” as you stare at the floor, too embarrassed at your lack of composure to make eye contact with your new acquaintance. 

He just sighs and says, “Ma’am, would you mind if I stood in line for you? It might feel good if you sat down for a minute. I promise it’s not a hassle. I’m here to get my dry cleaning too.” 

Jesus Christ, what is this guy? Some kind of mind reader? Who is that observant? Or are you just that obvious? You really, really don’t want more help. That’s all people have been trying to do for the past week. Coming by your house with food, offering to walk your dog, so many informational pamphlets about therapy, every person saying that they can be a listening ear if you need it. But you don’t. You just want to be left alone already. Nothing anyone has said has been comforting, because they don’t actually know what it’s like. They just don’t get it. And it’s nice that they want to help and are actually trying, but fuck. It mostly just makes things worse. But your head hurts from the exertion of crying, and that’s all it takes to convince you that you might actually want to sit down.

You wipe your eyes and finally feel like you’re allowed to really breathe again. You look up at the kind man to thank him once more, this time more sincerely, and in that instant, you’re sure you’ve gone insane. That’s got to be it. The death of your husband has thrown you completely off your rocker. That’s the only explanation for what stands before you. You’ve finally had a full psychotic break and are currently hallucinating in the corner store. You’d honestly burst out laughing if your throat wasn’t raw, because standing in front of you is a man who looks remarkably like Kim Namjoon. 

You haven’t thought about this man in years, and his dark shorter haircut instead of his usual longer locks is probably the most confusing matter about the whole thing, oddly enough. You recall in your mind the photocard you have of him from when you bought one of their albums several years ago. The luscious long blonde hair in the photo is shockingly different to the style that he’s sporting now. If it weren’t for his signature dimple greeting you alongside his small sincere grin, you’d almost have never recognized him. 

Oh my god. And now you’re standing in front of him, and he’s standing in front of you, and he’s so much taller than you thought he would be, and you’re having a meltdown in a cornerstore, and he’s so much more handsome in person, and now you’re staring into each other's eyes and this can’t be happening. 

It can’t really be him. You’ve just gone completely mental. You know the leader of BTS began his compulsory military service about a year and a half ago, but the chances of you crossing paths is still nearly impossible. You begin to tell yourself that he’s just a doppelgänger and your recent distress and suffering has made your brain desperate for serotonin. It can’t really be him. You’re just crazy now. That would be easier to deal with, at least. 

You half don’t believe it’s him and half don’t want to believe it’s him. If it is him, you sure as hell don’t want to make the interaction any more weird than it’s already been. If it’s not him, you’d only be embarrassing yourself further. The best, and really, only course of action to take at this point, because you absolutely do not trust your words, is just to nod your head and avert your gaze as you walk to the little bench by the door. You try to focus your thoughts on literally anything other than your brain’s manifestation of a pop star. It almost doesn’t happen, but as peace comes, you mentally thank yourself for your long-time practice of mindfulness. It would have been an impossible task had you never done this before. By the time he gets to the front, you’ve successfully managed to calm down and focus on your breathing. You’ve got yourself convinced the man simply looks similar to Namjoon, and that’s it. Nothing to get worked up about.

As you rejoin the man, he greets you with another warm grin and gestures to the counter. Shit. Are you ready to talk again? He’s insisting you go first, and you notice the little dimple poke out again. His lips are so… pillowy. Oh god, are you staring? You shake loose of his grasp on you and in practically perfect Korean, apologize to the lady for before, tell her the last name and details on the order, and tell her you’re sorry about misplacing the receipt from drop off with the order number on it because it’s... been a really long week. She nods, seeming relieved you didn’t burst into tears again and goes in the back to search for your items. 

The tall serviceman next to you now speaks to you in Korean. “That was impressive. You’ve been here for a long time?” 

“Only two years.” 

“Well I suppose you really didn’t need my help then,” he says and chuckles a little. “I’m glad to see sitting down was able to help you relax.” 

The lady hands over the dry cleaning and you thank her. As you pay, tears begin to swell in your eyes again. You’re holding the things your husband will be buried in. You can’t stop yourself from picturing it all… the funeral, his cold body, whether you’ll have to hold a closed casket ceremony, his poor mom, how long the receiving line is going to be, whether he would want flowers or not, wondering if you’ll be able to put his little award stripes on his suit jacket in the right order or if you’re going to have to get help… again.

 Being so wrapped up in your thoughts, you don’t notice your new acquaintance giving the lady his ticket. He turns to you after she’s walked in the back. 

“Lucky husband, getting his dress uniform picked up for him. You really know how to spoil a man, huh?” The seemingly innocent comment shoots fire through your veins. The woman returns with his dry cleaning and they go through payment as you let the anger boil inside of you. He is oblivious to the metaphorical bombs going off inside your body. You stare a hole into the man’s head as you spit out “My husband is fucking dead.” 

You turn to leave and don’t look back, not giving him a chance to process your revelation. He makes the connection a moment too late, but he’s quick to catch up with you in the parking lot, this time speaking English. “Ma’am please let me apologize. I didn’t realize...” 

You continue walking to your car; you don’t want to look at him again. “I don’t need an apology from you. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Please, I had no idea. I was trying to make small talk; I never would have said that-“

You whir around and glare at him. You were done. “I get it, okay? Just stop feeling sorry for me already. I’m tired of it. Thank you for waiting in line for me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a fucking funeral to plan.” The words come flying out and with each new sentence, you see him recoil again and again. His eyes are full of remorse and... understanding? You hold his gaze longer than you wanted to, and time stands still. What are you doing?

You’re fumbling with your keys, trying to manage the electronic key fob to unlock your car. He takes this opportunity to scribble some words and numbers on a paper he has clumsily fished out of one of his many uniform pockets and extends it out to you. Is he really trying to give you his number right now?! You’d be really flattered that a man this attractive is making a pass at you, if you hadn’t, you know, just told him your husband fucking died. You furrow your brows and roll your eyes, ready to chew him out again. 

“Here, this is the name and address for a group therapy session on post for people who have gone through recent loss. We meet on Thursdays. I don’t know how much longer you’ll be in Korea, but you’d be welcome. I promise.”

You just stare at him dumbly, unable to process this information. Therapy? You’d been given so many pamphlets on loss that it made your head spin. The only thing that thoughts of therapy has done for you in the past week has brought up terrible associations.

“Please. Take it.”

His eyes are pleading. You can’t bear to see the desperation any longer. Breaking away from his heavy gaze, you take the scrap of paper. With one last thank you, you get in your sedan, throw the dry cleaning into the passenger seat, and lock the doors. 

With your head in your hands, you start to cry again. Why do you have to be so mean? Thinking of the man, you turn to look in the rear-view mirror with a gentle hope that he’s still behind your car. You don’t know why you’re disappointed when he isn’t.

Thursday is tomorrow. You can make it until then.

[tintinwrites]

indelible | Comandante Veracruz x Reader | Part Two

A/N: There is a plot to this series, but for right now it’s smut!

Rating: 18+

Warning: Public sex against a car with a person standing on the other side of the car. Naughty words. Oral (M receiving, mention of F receiving). Veracruz is possessive but it almost seems like he cares maybe.

Word count: 2,099, apparently!!

Summary: Veracruz is keeping an eye on you to make sure Commander Axe doesn’t do anything when he is once again berated for his incompetence.

Part One

GIF credit: thewaythisis (Please let me know if you don’t want me using your GIF!)

Tags: @shadow-assassin-blix (Thanks for always helping!) @bisexual-space-slut (Thanks for always helping!) @damndamer0n @woakiees @anetteaneta @yespolkadotkitty @feelmyroarrrr @mynameiswhiskey @damerondjarin @arkofblake @spacegayofficial @perropascal @theocatkov​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ (If I forgot you or if you’d like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please let me know!)

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

You weren’t part of this whole military thing.

What little you knew was whatever Veracruz would rant to you before or after the two of you fucked, and other than that? You really didn’t care to know what fucked up things any of his people or the opposing side did.

He ranted to you in quite detail, so you probably knew more confidential things than you should have, but again; you didn’t really care.

That meant you knew about this ‘Commander Axe’ who was trying to take down terrorists that you weren’t even convinced were real and you knew that he was taken from your camp, and...he somehow escaped from the people who took him, which actually made you curious about the man.

There was this kinship and you decided to go see him under the guise of bringing Veracruz a cup of coffee.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a suspicious gaze as you walked over to the tent where Commander Axe was splashing water onto his face, but he took the coffee from you and took a large sip before setting it down.

You listened to Commander Axe as he said some of the things that were done to him or almost done to him and you really didn’t hold anything against the man, but you couldn’t help giggling at the garish blue color of his camouflage.

“What?” He asked gruffly, with a bit of curiosity in his tone at the woman dressed decidedly not in fatigues standing next to Veracruz.

“I’m sorry, but it’s no wonder you were kidnapped...we’re not in the ocean.” The jungle was certainly no place for clothing that wasn’t green if you were in any military.

Veracruz smiled at you for this, seeming like he didn’t like Commander Axe very much as he slid his hand into your back pocket and squeezed you approvingly. The other man was letting his gaze roam over your body with some interest that was more than friendly once he realized you weren’t exactly like all these other soldiers, his eyes pausing on the bite marks that your comandante made fresh practically every day.

“Admiring my handiwork?” There was a smirk on his lips that you knew meant he was pissed, his hand moving out of your back pocket and taking hold of one of your hips, pulling you against his side possessively to show that you belonged to somebody else.

“I’m Sam,” the man sounded almost gentle now as if he was searching for something.

You opened your mouth to tell him your name, but Veracruz waved at the man to tell him they’d continue in a moment as he turned you around and walked you towards your tent. Wanting to show even more that you belong to him, he slapped your ass very obviously and practically yelled, “Back to our tent!”

Then he leaned down to speak softly to you, lips curling into a snarl you loved to see because you knew you’d turned him on, “For that, I will make you come on my tongue when I’m finished with this.”

When Veracruz ate you out, he did a very thorough job and you knew he’d leave your thighs shaking, so you happily nodded and made your way to your tent; a glance back showed him walking back to Commander Axe who looked at him with narrowed eyes like he didn’t trust him, but you didn’t want to be part of all this military shit.

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

True to his word, Veracruz used his mouth on you and made you orgasm twice once he was back in the tent, but then he changed.

“I’m going to be keeping an eye on you,” he’d said with his chin resting on your trembling thigh, before explaining that he didn’t trust Commander Axe not to do something to you.

He raised an eyebrow at you to see if you’d enjoyed Sam as he mentioned the man, if you held any interest for him merely because he looked you over like an object, and you quickly said, “I’m yours,” to which he nodded in approval after a long moment.

You were at his side anytime he wasn’t with Commander Axe, which you didn’t mind too much since he let you bring a couple books with you.

All of this was still too much for you to want to know, so you mostly kept to yourself and read during whatever duty he dragged you along to.

However, when things seemed to be getting a bit more dramatic and Veracruz hopped out of his car on the way to somewhere you didn’t remember to talk to Perez, you couldn’t help but set down your book, roll your window down a bit, and try to listen to what they were yelling about.

Perez was asking what they were doing, where Commander Axe and the others were, and Veracruz did his best to explain what they were doing.

The moment you heard Perez tell him that they would discuss his incompetence later, you didn’t need to guess the look on his face; you glanced out the back window anyway and saw him turning around with a scowl on his face, his eyes locking on yours despite the tint on the glass.

You were fucked. Literally.

You couldn’t help the thrill that went through you at the thought of his anger when his competence came into question. Would he take you here, in the car, when his men were piled into a truck in front of you and Perez’ in a truck behind you? When another soldier was in the front seat?

Perez and his men drove off and Veracruz stalked right past your window, and you wondered if he was too angry to even fuck you. “Vete!”

Once his own men were driving away, he stood there with his hands on his hips at the hood of the car for a long moment, his shoulders shaking. Then he walked over to the passenger side and urged the man you’d been traveling with, “Sal del coche.” It was his right hand man, so he jumped out of the car and walked around to the other side when Veracruz gestured for him to. He walked to your door and stared into the little sliver of the window you’d opened. “Get out. Now.” He didn’t need to tell you twice, stepping back as you scrambled out of your seatbelt and shoved the door open, sliding out of the car.

You knew not to say anything until he asked you a question, folding your hands in front of yourself and staring at the ground as he slowly looked you over. His hand shot out and gripped your jaw tightly, lifting your head to make you look into his eyes.

There was something about the anticipation of what he was going to do that only made you wetter, and he noticed the way you squeezed your thighs together, quickly shoving you against the car.

He put his forearms against the glass and metal on either side of you, leaning in close until his nose was pressed against the tip of yours.

“Take off your jacket.” One of his hands moved down to unbutton and unzip your jeans as you hurriedly tossed your jacket aside so you were just in a tank top, moaning as his fingers slid into your jeans to stroke you over your underwear. “You’re wet.”

You nodded, grinding down onto his fingers and practically begging with your eyes for him to touch your clit, not caring about the man on the other side of the car, but he pulled his hand away from you. He yanked your jeans down and left you to step out of them as he undid his own pants, taking his cock out.

Stepping out of your jeans and kicking them off to the side, you reached for him and were quickly pushed back, your legs hiked up around his waist as he practically crushed you against the side of the car. “You think I am incompetent, baby?”

You opened your mouth to tell him no, but all you did was moan as he slid your panties aside and pushed into you — how he could get you wet enough to fuck with a look and light touches, you didn’t know, but you liked it.

It took a moment of adjusting to how fucking good he felt for you to finally say, “No, Comandante.”

He started a fast pace against you and you weren’t sure whether you were imagining the car rocking or not, but you didn’t care. Fuck, part of you wanted it to be rocking from how hard his hips were snapping against yours, showing his right hand man how hard he was fucking you.

His hand wrapped around the side of your neck as if you weren’t completely pinned, a few grunts falling from his lips.

“Bet you wish I hadn’t sent my men away, hm? You’d like them to see you. I’d like them to see that you’re all mine and not just hear it.” Like the man standing around the other side of the car. He pressed his thumb under your chin, tilting your head back.

“Yes, yes,” this was partly the tingling between your legs making you say yes and partly you just loving the thought of all his soldiers watching him claim you. You were horny enough just knowing you were being heard.

“I’d like Commander Axe to see who you belong to.” The idea made him fuck into you harder, moaning softly.

Your walls fluttered around him slightly and you didn’t know or care how he was so good at making you cum. Was he just that sexy to you, that you could come with nothing but his cock inside you?

“You’ll ask me,” he reminded you, knowing your body well enough to know when you were going to orgasm.

His hand moved down between you to rub circles onto your clit, keeping his eyes on your expression as your brow furrowed. “Please, sir, can I?”

A short nod and you were clenching down around him, moaning loudly as his fingers worked your clit harder. “That’s right, louder.” His touch pressing down on your clit as he leaned in to bite your neck made you cry out, making sure you were definitely heard by the man standing on the other side of the truck.

He pulled out of you and let your legs fall away from him, putting his hands on your shoulders to push you down to your knees. You didn’t stop him, and if anything you only moaned when his cock was in your face and leaned forward without him even telling you what he wanted.

You’d tasted yourself on his fingers and his cock and you obviously loved it, taking him into your mouth as far as you could and sucking on him lightly. He was close, which meant you didn’t need to build him up like you did when you usually sucked him off.

“Good girl. You look at me.” He did his best to pretend he wasn’t putty in your hands when he was in your mouth, but you could tell by his dilated pupils and his groans how much he loved this.

Your eyes met his and his cock twitched as he grabbed onto you, starting to fuck your face like he often ended up doing. You would gag even when he wouldn’t thrust that deep because you knew he liked that, loved the thought of you taking him so well.

“Swallow all of it,” his warnings were gentle when he felt this good with you, his hips thrusting with a bit less of a rhythm until he pushed forward and spilled into you.

You swallowed around him almost eagerly, moaning as you tasted him and his cum, your gaze on his hooded one as he tilted his head back.

He let you pull away when you wanted, fixing up his pants and watching as you redressed yourself. “Sit up front with me.”

You did, and he kept his hand on your thigh as he drove in the direction where Commander Axe apparently was, with the other soldier now sitting in the back.

Maybe you didn’t know much about the military or all of what Veracruz was doing, and maybe your relationship with him was unique, but you couldn’t help hoping that despite the anger on both sides, everyone would come out unscathed and the two of you could return to your normal relationship.

[marwritesgood]

Match | O. Diaz

Pairing: Oscar x Finnie!Reader

Timeframe: Season 2 - Season 3 (SPOILERS)

Summary: It’s hard what they have had to go through, but they’ve always had each other.

masterlist

A/N: lemme make one thing clear, siblings who have had to assume parental roles in their younger sibling’s life because of incompetent parents are nothing to glamourise or sensationalise. that shit is so hard and so unfair on everyone involved, because it robs so many kids of the luxury of getting to be a kid. no one deserves to have to grow up so fast. i am so touched by how this was represented this season. cheers xox

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Monse was packing a bag and really about to make a decision I could already tell she would live to regret. With Cesar and her broken up, and out last conversation being a tumultuous argument, it seemed she didn’t care about the people she was leaving behind.

“Are you really gonna keep ignoring me, Monse?”

My little sister turns to glare at me, only to turn back around and zip her bag up, before placing the strap over her shoulder. For the past few weeks, she said all but two words to me (”fuck you”), the rest of our communication were made up of me talking and her glaring holes through all the sides of my head.

“Dad?” Monse calls out, as she heads into our kitchen, with me following after her. Our dad was drinking a mug of coffee, when he turned up to see us standing on the opposite side of our kitchen island. “Can we go now? I’m starting to sense a negative presence in the room”

“Oh grow up,” I retorted, folding my arms as once again, Monse spoke of me indirectly, but glared at me in the most direct way possible.

“Actually sweetie,” my dad began, before awkwardly reaching for the car keys in his pocket, and handing them to me as he continued. “I’m gonna let Y/n drive you there.”

Monse may as well have thrown a full-blown tantrum with the way she scoffed aloud, crossed her arms and stormed off to where my dad’s car was parked. I predicted that perhaps Jamal’s dramatic tendencies were beginning to rub off on her.

The first few minutes of the car ride were silent. Monse had opted to listening to music as opposed to listening to me, but when her phone died, I quietly thanked the universe for giving me a chance to make amends with my sister.

“Monse?”

“What?” She answered harshly, turning her head to the view outside her window as opposed to looking at me.

“... I’m sorry, okay?” She shifted her posture so she was sitting taller, and glanced my way for a split second- sure sign that she was willing to listen to me, finally. I wasn’t one to be the first to say sorry, Spooky could tell you all about that. “You have a right to know who our mom is, and I shouldn’t have tried to stop you from finding out.”

Monse nodded, which was enough for me to feel lighter now that things were better between us. The next few minutes were silent against, but it was far more bearable this time around.

“She’s changed you know,” Monse whispers only just loud enough for me to hear. And just like that, my heart dropped. I was so afraid of her getting hurt, but it seemed like she was already setting herself up for that without even realising. “You could stay for dinner... See it for yourself.”

I sighed. I wanted to be honest with Monse. I wanted to tell her the brutal truth about what happened between our parents from the time we were born to the time she left us for good. But seeing how happy Monse was, packing her things and looking to spend time with the one person she’s yearned to know for so long. What kind of a person would I be to ruin that for her?

“Maybe another time, Mon.”

That’s all I needed to say for Monse to drop the topic. The fact that I didn’t respond in an outrage was enough for her, it seemed. Little did she know how hard it was to keep myself from yelling and bawling both at the same time.

Once we got to Julia’s house, I helped Monse with the one suitcase she had packed, while she carried the other backpack she brought with her. We didn’t even need to knock for the door to swing open, and for Julia to embrace Monse in a warm hug. Nice to know she was capable of showing affection to her daughter.

As they pulled apart from one another, I coughed quietly to fill the evidently awkward silence. When I looked up, I saw Julia gazing at me, tears brimming in her eyes. How I wished I had just sprinted to my dad’s car and drove off. I signed up for making amends with Monse, not reuniting with the woman who ruined my life.

“Y/n?” She place her hand over her mouth, and inhaled deeply. I stared at her, emotionless, because I knew getting angry or upset would make things worse between Monse and I. I didn’t need that. “You’ve grown up so beautifully.”

That was far different from how she treated me in the few years she stuck around. I wanted to slap her then and there.

“I’m gonna go say hi to the kids,” Monse said, as she wheeled her suitcase inside, right after taking her shoes off beside their coat rack. 2 seconds in and she was already changing her habits to fit in. I didn’t want to know what she’d be like when I pick her up in a month or so. I secretly hoped she would be begging to come home by then.

With Monse gone, Julia’s expression turned from joyful to regretful. I already had my fair share in life to know white tears when I saw them. For some reason, I stuck around long enough witness them fall again.

“Y/n... I am so sorry,” she wept. She had the audacity to cry in front of me, like she was the one who dealt with the brunt of her actions. I knew then that she hadn’t changed. Not enough for me to ever consider sticking around for dinner, so much as a conversation.

“Monse didn’t specify how long she’ll be staying, but she has my number and unlimited texts.” I wasn’t about to be vulnerable in front of this woman. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of talking out what she did to her daughter. She didn’t deserve that. She never would. “She knows most of the important stuff she needs to know, but if anything comes up, just get her to call or text me.”

Julia nods silently, understanding that just because Monse wanted a relationship with her, didn’t mean she was any less dead to me than she was the last time she abandoned my family. 

I was about to turn around and leave, but there was one thing I needed to get off my chest. Not for my sake. Not for Julia’s. But for Monse’s.

“She’s been looking forward to this for a really long time,” I began, looking over Julia’s shoulder and watching Monse run around the living room with Julia’s youngest kids. “Longer than you know... So I swear to God, Julia... If you hurt her the way you hurt me, I will make sure you live to regret it.”

The way she held her breath, as I coldly threatened her, was enough for me to be satisfied. I drove off without saying goodbye. Without even looking back to see if Julia was still standing on her front doorstep, but I knew she was. I wonder if she understood the irony in that.

With little to do, now that Monse was out of the house and my dad was getting ready to hit the road again, I decided to stop at Oscar’s on my way back home. For most of my life, he was the person I went to when I needed to vent to someone who got me.

And that was the thing that made me fall for him so quickly. He just... got me.

“You saw her?” He asked, as he fixed the both of us cups of coffee. Neither one of us were going to be sleeping anytime soon. Not with all the shit we had going on in our lives.

“Yeah,” I answered sadly, fiddling with the mug handle. Spooky took hold of my other hand; a thing he’d do anytime I started fidgeting with something. “She hasn’t changed... I wish Monse would see that.”

“You spent your whole life protecting her from Julia,” he reasoned. “She never had to know what she did to you guys... You didn’t want her to hurt the way you did growing up.”

I nodded. He was right, but that didn’t make the situation any less painful than it already was.

“I’m scared it’s gonna happen though,” I whispered, staring down at my mug as a way of keeping me from tearing up. “You should’ve seen how happy she was... How much trust she has that Julia’s actually changed.”

Oscar runs his hand over his mouth and down his chin, before gently squeezing my hand. 

“She has to find out somehow,” he stated, looking at me apologetically because nothing he could say could change what would inevitably happen. “We can’t protect them from everything... no matter how badly we wanna.”

And we couldn’t. I couldn’t protect Monse from our mom. Oscar couldn’t protect Cesar the world of the Santos. But we really wanted to. We really really did.

***

It had been a good handful of months since Monse and I saw Julia last. Much like I predicted, she hadn’t changed. And unfortunately for Monse, this meant she had to find out the hard way that our mother was an awful person. 

“You’re really not gonna go to the funeral?”

Monse and my dad were both dressed in their nicest black attire, whilst I was still wearing what I had gone to sleep in. I told them I wouldn’t step foot in Brentwood again, but it seemed that they only now understood how serious I was.

“Y/n,” my dad always spoke softly to the two of us, particularly when we were at a disagreement. “I really think you should come with us.”

I took a spoonful of cereal to my mouth and chewed loudly, before speaking again. This was my way of emphasising how little I cared for the matter at hand. Julia was dead to me a long time ago. I already did my grieving. She didn’t deserve so my respect, so I wasn’t about to pay that to her anytime soon.

“I’m not coming.” I looked at my dad and shook my head. He sighed, and took hold of the car keys, before grabbing his coat. Monse however wasn’t having any of it.

“I can’t believe you,” she said loudly, despite my dad’s attempts at calling her to go to the car. “Our mother is dead, Y/n. Don’t you think it’s important you go to her funeral?!”

I placed my bowl down abruptly, making my dad walk back into the kitchen, because anytime Monse and I dropped what was in our hands, shit was about to go down. 

“She’s been dead to me for a long time, Monse, I don’t owe that woman anything.”

I could feel my dad’s eyes widen, and I knew I was beginning to cross a line. Talking bad about Julia to my dad and Oscar before was one thing, but now that she was dead, and since this was Monse I was talking to, we were in uncharted territory.

“What about me, or her kids? You’re being so selfish, Y/n!” I ignored her and began putting my dishes away. It hurt hearing her say what she did, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue. Monse, however, apparently was. “You know you’re a lot more like her than you wanna believe.”

And I thought I was crossing a line.

“You better watch your mouth, Monse,” I growled, trying to keep myself from throwing something at my little sister. A spoon perhaps? “You have no right to say that to me. Unlike her, I’ve looked out for you from the beginning.”

We moved away from the kitchen island, and were now standing opposite each other, with all but my dad in our way. He held both his hands out, almost as a precaution in case one of us threw a punch.

“Oh please,” she spat. My dad glanced over at me. Knowing where this was heading, he knew how personal this was becoming for me especially. “I never asked you to become my mother.”

I gasped quietly, only just loud enough for my dad and I to hear.

“Y/n-”

I shook my head. There was no coming from this, at least not today. No matter how softly my dad spoke to me or how hurt Monse was by everything that had happened, I couldn’t bring myself to pretend like things were okay. They weren’t. They hadn’t been for a while, even before we found out about Julia.

No longer able to stand in the same room as Monse, I walked out of the kitchen and out of the house, making sure not to tear up until I was positive that I was definitely on my own. This wouldn’t last for long though because, just as I did in any time of crisis or mental breakdown, I headed towards Spooky’s place.

And just as well, by the time I got there, I saw his father walking away from the house, a duffel bag in his clutched hand- the same he had when he arrived from prison. I waited around the corner until he left, before approaching Oscar. 

I could tell that whatever argument they were having, it wasn’t one I needed to get involved in. 

“Spooky?”

Once realising I had seen what happened, he shakes his head, runs his hand over his mount and sits on the steps of his front door. Making no sudden movements, I slowly sat beside him.

“Did he leave?”

He flares his nostrils and looks up at the streetlights before nodding.

Shifting closer to him, I placed on hand around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder, only after placing a small kiss on the bare skin. 

“You not going to the funeral?”

I shook my head, before leaning into him. He takes his arm and wraps it around my frame, allowing me to lean into his chest. He was so good at showing me love, despite never receiving any from the people he needed it most from.

“How are you gonna tell Cesar?” I asked, looking up at him concerningly.

“... I don’t know,” he sighs.

“Why do we have to go through this?” I cried, placing my head in my hands. Oscar rubs my back gently all the while. “It sucks so much, you know? When Monse was staying at Brentwood she looked so happy... Why couldn’t we have had that growing up? Julia can give that to her white kids... but not to us.”

It was a rhetorical question of course. Spooky and I had our fair share of pain. We both knew how messed up things are for no apparent reason. 

“You know she wrote her a letter?” Again, a rhetorical question. I knew for a fact that Monse told Spooky about it in a drunken haze. “Despite everything that happened, Monse still cared about her.”

“... How about you?”

My lips began to tremble, because I finally began to understand why I held so much anger towards Julia. Why, even when she showed some kindness to Monse, I still couldn’t look at her without feeling so much rage in my heart.

As I began to tear up again, Oscar held me until I started to recover. I hated how much power that woman still ad over me. That even when she projected all of her internalised insecurities onto me for a good chunk of my life, I was still distraught that she was gone. That we’d never be able to reconcile our relationship.

The sun began to set when I rested my head on Spooky’s shoulder, and stared out into the block we called home; thinking about our two siblings, of whom we had to look out for. Of the innocence we were robbed of. Of the childhood we never got to enjoy.

“Do you think they’re gonna be okay?” He asks, staring just as intently as I was into the streets. 

“Yeah... They will.” And I really believed that.

“What about us?” This time he turns his to me and gazes into my eyes, emphasising how serious and intimate his question was. “Think we’ll make it?”

I couldn’t think of an answer that would accurately encapsulate my enthusiasm and confidence, so I took hold of his face and kissed him softly. And I could feel him smiling as I did so, pulling me closer to him with the strength of his arms.