#mr plague was also another idea I had too??

[paintedonmyteeth]

So I decided to scrap the last one and I came up w/ this???

Originally I was tryna find this picrew to make my Homicipher oc but I couldn’t remember the name fbskfnekjfkshfj — I think I’ll call him Mr. Saw (???) I’m not too sure with names just yet, so that’s a thing Imma work on. I’m much more satisfied with this one than my first try at making a Homicipher character.

Edit: Yeah I decided to call him Mr. Saw

Picrew’s also here. // doc temp.

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Exotic ||

Description: You were The Duke of Suffolk's exotic little gift for devising the perfect plan that had led to the successful colonization of your homeland.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Charles Brandon. This story contains dark and mature content so please browse at your own discretion. Minors do not interact. Please DO NOT REPOST my work in any way and DO NOT USE MY IDEAS WITHOUT PERMISSION, thank you.

Pairing: Dark!Charles Brandon | Brown!Reader.

Warning(s): Noncon/dubcon, colonization, racism, age gap (reader is in her early 20's, Charles is in his late 40's), coercion, dacryphilia, p-in-v, boob play, virginity loss, d/s dynamics, power imbalance, misogyny, naive!reader, corruption kink, fingering, humiliation, degradation.

Note: I have clearly taken creative liberties. My stories are generally inclusive for all ethnicities and body types but in order for the plot to make sense, the reader has to be brown and preferably South Asian. Though you can still imagine yourself in it all the same. Also, English is not my first language and I haven't really watched the show so I apologize beforehand for the lack of use of the appropriate language that this piece requires. 

MASTERLIST

"I WILL NOT HAVE HIS BASTARD BLUE EYED GHOULS!" 

One of her many shouts burst through the crevices of the chambers that she had been forced into by the frustrated servants who were just as upset as the maiden by her relentless protest and fight. Charles sighed to himself as he took a sip of his drink, numbly watching the fire and waiting for his unwed young bride to be prepared for him. 

He was the only one who could actually understand her, as she solely spoke her native tongue that he had learnt to ensure the preparation of a fail-proof plan with flawless execution. Infiltrate and occupy. To everyone else in his Estate, she was a wild savage with no sense of civility. One that the Master had taken a fancy to during his business expeditions in her homeland. 

When his wisdom and cunning had added yet another colony to Henry's growing kingdom, the King was obligated to give his best friend the object of his attention as a gift. Charles' eyes that would follow her every time she was around the marketplace, naively going about her day with no knowledge of the coral eyes that observed her every move from afar had not gone unnoticed by the King.

"I do apologize in advance, Master" the head maid bowed after approaching his seat. "The girl has been prepared and placed in your chambers but she is bestial and restive. I do not recom–"

"That will be all, Mrs. Chapman, goodnight" the lady was mildly taken aback as she had gotten used to being the second in command ever since the Master's family had passed away from a devastating plague sometime over a decade ago. 

The silence of the Estate had been his companion during his idle hours for years before this night.  

And now there was her…

Charles sighed to himself as he lifted his heavy body out of his seat after putting down the glass and made his way to his feral little present that awaited him in his chambers. 

His form silently moved through the shadows of the dimly lit halls as the man neared the enclosure he was planning to remain in for weeks at the very least. Undeniable anticipation and excitement began to course through his veins that had not felt this warm for ages now the closer he got to the heavy double doors. 

Charles paused for a second before he entered, tuning her shrieking out and taking a moment to both calm his nerves and settle his composure. He was getting too old to tolerate the wailings of a child for long, but he did not want to ruin this for himself. 

When the man was sure a few moments after that he was ready, he raised his head and entered. 

It had been too long. 

Much to his surprise, the shouting ceased at once and was replaced by quiet sniffling upon his appearing. He had been told that the years had granted him an intimidating mien but it was only now that he believed it when the girl's ear numbing protests turned into mere whimpers at his showing up.

A frown made its way on Charles' face when he turned away from the door after ensuring the security of its latches to finally face the girl. Because though she looked stunning -and Heavens, the sight before him was truly breathtaking-, he found her delicate, dusk-hued hands bound to the headboard of the bed with cloth pieces that matched the shade of her attire.

And oh, her attire… 

Tan fingers decorated with scarlet henna that was deep in shade, hands sparkling with the jewelry that had been draped over them and locked in place at her wrists from below and around the base of her digits from top. The velvety caramel of her arms adorning red and gold glass bangles that jingled every time she mumly struggled against her cruel restraints that cut at her obviously pampered skin whenever she moved. Her face was half-covered with a dark red drape into which sparkling beads had been sown in the shapes of flowers. Her binds that held her arms captive and away at her sides caused her heavy chest to push out against the deep neckline of her crimson blouse, the mud coloured swells feverishly trembling every time she grunted and give a pull to her bruising wrists. The long skirt she had been made to wear below matched the color of the rest of her clothing articles, her fight having raised it up her hazel shaded ankles around which glittery jewelry similar to the hand pieces she wore were wrapped. Her toes that curled every now and then had been coloured the same scarlet shade as her fingers and the sheets contrasted her body in the most stunning way.

The King had really outdone himself with Charles' reward this time around. 

The curve of her body was perfect and different to everything the older man had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. A familiar but much forgotten warmth spread over his chest and traveled down to his nether regions as he neared the girl. 

"D- Don't come any closer!" A scared little maiden from a foreign land speaking in an inferior tongue was not to tell him what to do in his own house. "T- This is utter blasphemy! A girl is to only present herself like this to her husband on the night of their wedding! This is vile and most sinister!" 

Charles sighed to himself before taking a seat next to her. Then he raised the drape from over her face and rested it above her head, only to reveal the most uniquely beautiful face he had ever seen in any land, the dark and thick curls that framed her features accentuating her beauty even more. "Then I suppose it is a good thing that you are my bride, is it not?" She did look the part. 

Her big, almond shaped brown eyes that had been lined with kohl widened when he responded in her tongue. "N- Never!" Y/n tried to move away, her heavy nose ring that was being held up by a thin, gold chain on one side of her face bouncing every time she spoke with nervous agitation. "I- I would never wed one that bears likeness to corpses!" Now this was amusing to Charles. The man could not help the small smile that spread over his lips. "B- Better to die than lay with a blue eyed ghoul!" 

Heat spread across his spine at her naivete.

Then he softly snorted. "In that case I am most regretful to inform you that these decisions are for the men to make, little one" she flinched her face away with a gasp when he went to caress her cheek with the coarse back of his hand. "Young maidens like yourself are much too simple minded to know what is right for them."

"It definitely is not becoming the slave of an old devil!" One of Charles' eyebrows raised at that. 

One with a mouth. 

Taming her would surely be an experience.

"Now that would be real blasphemy, letting such exquisite beauty go to waste by sending it into slavery" the girl was puzzled for a moment as she blinked up at him in confusion, unable to decide whether it was a compliment or an insult to her prior words. Perhaps both. Definitely a trap. The Duke took this time to lean towards one of her binds and reached for it. "Do you promise to behave yourself if I rid you of these?" He had heard the servants' complaints of her biting and kicking them. 

The girl was at a loss of words as she warily watched his face for a hint, clearly struggling to understand his intentions. Charles bit his lip to suppress his smirk. He was not aware that he still had the charm that had had a renown of its own during the days of his youth. 

"Hm?" Y/n's eyes traveled from him to where his hand hovered above the bind. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and she sucked at it for a few moments before returning her gaze to his. The stubborn girl only nodded, not sparing him any more words than necessary, keeping a careful eye on his movements.

Not that there was much she could do against him.

Charles' fingers pulled the knot free and gathered her bruised wrist in them after it collapsed from its suspension. A gasp escaped the girl when he brought it to his lips and pressed a soft, ticklish kiss to the tender skin, lowering it only to reach for the other bind though caressing it with his thumb all the while.

A frown marred the girl's features as she rotated the wrists in their joints for relief, but only for a few moments. Before any words could be exchanged, her free hand that was not being pampered by the man's suspicious tenderness reached for one of the heavy pillows. 

The Duke's jaw ticked as his eyes shut in forced composure, curls tossing astray when the pillow was hauled in his direction to serve as a device for escape. But alas. He was faster in judging and blocking the weapon with one firm hand. 

Charles breathed through his nose to refrain from expressing his ire and bit back the surge of strength that tried to overpower him. The darkness grew within him as his realization of the sheer power he held in this moment coupled with her intoxicating scent drove him completely mad. A whine left the girl as she hissed, twisting her fragile wrist within his rough palm to try and break free from the bone crushing hold it had been held captive in during her attempt to flee.

"Now, where do we think we are going?" While it took Y/n all of her strength to try and push his arm away, the man easily hauled her body back in its previous spot before addressing her with a much unimpressed look.

"Home! I want to go home!" Tears glistened in her deep brown eyes as her chin wobbled, but she refused to give up her struggle. "You cannot keep me here, old devil! I shall protect my honor at all costs and I shall run away!"

The Duke could not help but let out a cold chuckle at that, keeping his firm hold on her all the same. "You are here on the King's orders, little one. Even if you manage -which you will not, let me assure you-, they will just bring you back here to me."

"Then I implore you let me go!" She was very obviously desperate. And he could feel his sick excitement increase. "Please, I do not wish to be here! I refuse to be desecrated at the hands of your likeness!" Charles had never been one to coerce or force; courtesy of his global popularity, but all this fight and pleading kept adding to the fire that was spreading within him. 

It was then when he had to physically refrain himself from pouncing at her right then and there to strip her of all dignity and innocence, he realized that he wanted– nay, needed this girl under him at all costs. 

And fast.

There was not a doubt that he wanted to break her. But the enjoyment he wished to take from it was not an instant one that would soon become tiring. 

Rather, one which would only get better and more interesting by the day.

Seeping under her beautiful skin like a poison that scorches but is eternally inadequate to fully kill. 

"No can do, you have been given to me by the King himself to keep and guard as I see fit" he couldn't resist the urge to caress the top of her hand with his thumb and gave in. "You are safe within the premises of the Estate and under my name. Though if you breach it…" Her throat gulped down a nervous bile as her cheeks elongated in horror and big eyes widened even more. 

Good. 

"I- If I breach it…?" Y/n couldn't help but edge on when a few moments passed in silence and the Duke refused to share more information. 

Charles' shaky inhale was nerve-wracking as he willed a troubled expression onto his dark eyes. "You will surely be torn apart into hundreds of pieces before any measure of aid can even be attempted…" Her mouth fell open in shock at the revelation. "Word around here spreads fast, I hear…" He pretended to hesitate. "Everyone is curious whether it feels better or worse between the legs of an eastern woman…" She stopped her struggle, the jingle of her glass bangles dying down. "And if they also bleed red…" She suddenly shuffled closer, sniffling and nearly cowering into him. 

There, there. 

"M- My honor…!" Was all she could whimper after a few beats of haunting silence. 

Charles sighed in a deliberately long breath, feigning sympathy as though he was not the sole reason of her being in her present circumstance. "Let me have it, and I shall protect it with my life" dipping his head forward, the Duke leaned in, the movement forcing a shaky gasp out of the girl. "I am afraid your only choices are that or who knows what at the hands of my landsmen–"

"I beseech you speak no more!" Shaky hands flew to cover her ears as she sobbed out loud at last, the movement causing the drape to move and reveal the heavy looking pendents that hung from her ears. Charles wondered if they would make the same sound as her bangles and anklets if he were to take her while she wore them. 

The Duke bit his lip as he felt blood rush to his nether regions. 

Oh, it truly had been a long time. 

The feeling was nearly foreign.

Yet painfully inviting; welcoming. 

"We are each our own devil, little one." He let go of her wrist, lowering his head as he went to move away. "I can see that you rather leave here, so I will–"

"N- No…" The girl slowly shook head at first and then resorted to vehemently doing it when he continued to turn away, stopping him by clinging to one of his arms before pulling his half risen body back down next to her. "Must not bring disgrace to grandfather's turban!" As they were a symbol of pride and honor in her culture. 

Charles sighed in a commiserative manner. "I most sincerely wish there was a way I could help you" he could almost visualize her thought process as her furrowed eyebrows raised from their prior position. 

"B- But you just said there was!" Now it was his turn to bring his eyebrows together although in faux confusion, unbeknownst to the girl.  

"Did I?" When she desperately nodded with a spine-chilling eagerness that contrasted her prior abhorrence to his existence, Charles couldn't help but shift a little to try and relieve the growing ache between his legs. 

"Y- Yes…" The Duke just had to crawl between her legs now. 

"I am afraid I do not recall, sweet one" her tears only made the pressure that was ever-building worse. 

"A- About… That… Just now…!" When Charles tilted his to the side in pretend puzzlement, she couldn't help but cry out in frustration. "A- About surrendering my honor to you to keep and protect!" His heart jumped at the way she said it, the thumping of the organ now matching that of his nether regions. 

"But you did not seem to like the proposition t–"

"I like it! Please, I do!" She desperately squeezed his hand that she held in both of hers. "I agree! To all of it!" The girl had moved onto her knees. "Please, please guard me! I beg to be taken under your wing, Master, please!" Her heavy breasts jiggled against her blouse as she leaned towards him and pistoned her body up and down on her heels in a pleading manner. His eyes couldn't help but travel down to the inviting sight.

Heavens. 

And to think that she was not even aware of just what she was doing. 

Charles could not help but imagine her bouncing on something else entirely. 

"Are you sure, little one?" The girl's nods were so eager she seemed more and more like just another bride by the passing second. "I do not–" mortified for her endangered honor, she bolted forward and pressed her lips to his, though for a while too brief for The Duke's liking.

In the blink of an eye, she was back in her spot on her knees, leaning back against the heels of her feet and looking down at her hands that still held his. "I- I am sure, M- Master…" A shaky breath escaped him at the way the word rolled off her tongue. "W- Want to be guarded and…" Her tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip while she mustered the strength required to utter the next words. "K-" she hesitated for a second now that she had somewhat calmed down. "Kept by you."

Charles could not help the triumphant smirk that spread across his still much handsome features. "If that truly is the case, then…" His free hand reached for her tear stained face as his index finger hooked under her chin to prop it up and closer to him. "Come here." 

The girl's breaths were heavy as her palms grew a nervous cold against his, dampening the top of his hand with the clamminess that produced between them. Her shy eyelids fluttered along with her thick, curly lashes as she tried to look at him with their lowered position, the rise and fall of her chest increasing when Charles moved in until there was no proximity left between them.

The mass of hair lined along the edge of her eyes trembled when Charles' soft lips pressed against hers and his rather coarse mustache tickled the skin under her nose, causing her to squeeze his hand reactively and send another icy shiver down his spine. The Duke sighed against the warmth of her tender mouth, sensing that she was not really responding both due to the circumstance and lack of experience but the feeling was too thrilling for him to let go just yet. 

Y/n whimpered when the man softly moaned into her mouth and tilted his head to further deepen the kiss, now moving the hand he had on her chin sideways along her jaw until he was cupping it to hold her face in place. The room filled with loud sounds of skin sucking against skin for short intervals and the girl soon found herself gasping for air. 

"Down on your back, now" Charles growled and barely managed to hold back when she finally broke the kiss by softly biting down on his bottom lip to be allowed to breathe, the action only adding to his need in turn. 

In a matter of a few moments, the unwilling girl was lying in The Duke's bed compliantly, cheeks flushed and eyes teary in contempt, yet legs parted in a welcoming manner as he pulled at the harnesses of his clothes while trying to triumph over his frantic breathing.

But there was only so much he could keep under control.

He could not recall the last time a pretty little thing had been presented for him like this, if ever. 

And she looked so innocent, so sweet, so supple, submissive and small with her big, glassy kohl lined eyes full of fear. 

The sound of the last of his garments hitting the ground was a loud thump in the deadly silent room as he silently marveled at just how vulnerable she really was.

Solely at this mercy.

The girl's jewelry jingled softly as she gasped under her breath and whipped her head in the other direction at the sight of the man; practically a stranger, yet devastatingly now the owner of her new life standing nude before her in all his glory. 

Charles could not help the sick smirk that made its way on his face at the sight before he slowly mounted the bed like a serpent slithering towards its prey, movements silent and intentions vile. Y/n was forced whimper out a shaky breath when Charles crawled over her as she felt his very exposed body graze against her clothed one. 

"Here, now." He placed one hand beside her head and used the other one to recenter her face to look up at him, palm unintentionally cupping her jaw as his thumb caressed the soft skin of her cheekbones. "Keep those pretty eyes on me, little one" her full chest touched against his each time she took another one of her exaggerated breaths, frozen in place as she looked up at him in horrified confusion.  

Her deep brown eyes only widened more at what he did next when his hand left the side of her face to meet one of hers that lay limp at her sides. "Do you feel that, sweet girl?" Y/n's mouth fell open when Charles guided her trembling hand to his painfully hard sex organ and prompted her to touch it. "This is what you do to me…" His eyes traveled down her face and onto her much inviting spotless neck, descending down to the perfect curve of her swells that smoothed into a bump before coming back up to look into hers, "everytime, while fully clothed. I dare not imagine what I'd do if you were even half indecently clad" her face was hot with a deep blush. 

Embarrassment, humiliation, shyness.

Charles moaned when she started moving her hand along his length, a petrified expression on her face as she grunted a little with having to reach so far down, though not daring to complain. "Good, good." He had had enough of the slow strokes, The Duke wanted something more fulfilling, faster, tighter, warmer if he did not want to end up bruised down there by the night's end. "Very good" his thick curls fell over his face when he dipped his head down to kiss her, a few strands of silver glinting in the dim light of his chambers as he pushed Y/n's arms above her head, the placing causing her swells to nearly fall out of her deep blouse. 

When Charles pulled back to breathe, he cursed as he grinded against her before kissing her once more and then trailing his lips along her jawline, pecking every patch he touched. "Hmmm, keep them there" he referred to her arms, leaving them above her head and slowly bringing his own down by tracing the outlines of her body with them. "Tell me you'll keep your arms above your head for me because you're my good girl" his hands greedily groped her heavy chest, causing the girl to wince as her back arched in response to the foreign treatment, her neck craning to one side as Charles sucked and lapped at the tender skin his mouth was latched onto.

"I- I… ah!" Her eyes fluttered close and clenched when he suddenly bit down on the junction between her shoulder and neck before tracing his tongue over the sore area to cool the pang, hands squeezing her soft hips at the same time. "I w- will keep my arms a- above my head for you because I am your g- good girl… M- Master" fuck. 

There was a bewitching way about the way that name rolled off her tongue.

Charles could swear stars appeared in his vision as the pressure between his legs increased. 

"Heavens, little one!" The Duke grunted as he snatched the fabric of her skirt upwards and away from her priorly covered legs, the overwhelmed man unable to hold back anymore as he moved to her swells now that he had left some satisfying marks of his passion along the width of her neck. "Where have you been all this time?" 

Happy and safe at home with my family. A tear trickled down the side of Y/n's face as she shivered when his nude leg brushed against hers that was just as exposed as his now, the contact evoking a strange feeling within her. Goosebumps appeared on her skin and the hair on the back of her neck rose as Charles' lips hovered above the pulpy skin, the golden brown bristles of his beard scraping against its feathery softness.  

"Hm?" Charles growled when she gave no response but then chuckled as he ran his tongue along the narrow valley of the cushions on her chest. "Silly little thing doesn't know what to say now, does she?" A shaky breath escaped him as the coarse back of his hand rubbed against her tender thighs that he had finally managed to expose by pushing the skirt all the way up to her waist. Y/n's eyes widened and she jumped up against his face with a start when his impatient hand snatched at the neckline of her blouse and pulled at the fabric until it separated from the rest of the cloth and tore off in a big piece. But before the girl could voice her shock, Charles beat her to it. "Tell me you've been obediently waiting on your Master, me, all this time" his demand was husky and harsh against her breasts that he was taking his time tasting and biting, the softness making him moan. 

The girl gulped as she blinked through her teary vision, biting her lip in concentration and snaking her fingers around the bars of the headboard to keep them there like she had been ordered to. The last thing she could afford right now was to anger The Duke who was becoming less and less of a man by the passing second, every single little thing about him turning primal and beastly. 

"I- I have been obediently–" the sickening words burnt on her tongue for she must have been a cradled babe when the man on top of her was in the prime of his youth. "Been… B–" her throat was parched as her tongue ran over her dry lips every now and then to create a semblance of hydration. 

"Go ahead, sweet girl" Charles had begun rocking against her already, rubbing his curled length between his stomach and the top of her caramel thigh, the contrasts of their skins only adding to his pleasure. "You're doing so well for me" the slurp of his mouth against one of her hardened nipples overshadowed the sound of him ripping her underclothes away. 

Y/n tried to close her legs, utterly uncomfortable and much too exposed as she felt herself getting thirstier than before, the strange surge of waves that his indecent touches and lewd words were causing in the base of her stomach tightening into a ball each time he squeezed her somewhere or dug his teeth into the soft cushions of her breasts, razorlike canines stinging against her plush swells. 

"I- I have been obediently w- waiting on m- my Master, you, all this time..." Her back arched with another start when Charles' fingers dipped between her nude legs and touched the most private part on her body, the feeling of the soft, warm and moist bumpy flesh causing him to moan so loud against the breast that he was sucking at now after having marked its companion to his liking. 

"Heavens…!" Was all the older man could gasp out as he let his fingers glide free over her folds and squishy petals to both get a feel of them and memorize every little detail possible. "You're wet, God–" his smug smile was so deep that his dimples appeared and he had to peek between his curls that fell over his eyes when he looked up at her. "You are not even aware of it, are you?" The girl had no idea what he meant indeed. "Oh, you sweet little dirty girl" as he attacked her lips with his desperate mouth, his free hand flew to restrain both of hers back above her head when the tip of his finger prodded at her tiny slit and the girl gasped, unaware of its existence altogether. 

"Nuh, uh, little girl" Charles tutted between hot, breathy, wet and sloppy kisses, the red color that had been painted on the girl's lips now an increasing mess around both their mouths. "Good girls keep their arms up and eyes down under their Masters" he let go only to reach for one of her ear pendents and hurriedly felt it with his thumb before ducking down to push his tongue in her mouth to explore the tight enclosure, stifling the gasp she let out when he finally sheathed the finger he had been stroking her with inside her hot cavern. "Do you understand?" He was breathless when he pulled back momentarily to moan at the feeling of her stiff opening clenching around his digit. "Tell me you understand." 

The girl struggled to breathe under his beast-like countenance, accidentally biting down on his lip albeit only to make him moan harder when he started to move his finger in the vertical fashion it was meant to be stimulated in. "I- I…" The pain, the buzzing excitement increasing in the pit of her stomach, the strange feeling which was starting to overpower the initial ache of the intimate intrusion as well as the way Charles was basically chewing away everywhere he could reach her with his mouth with such urgency that it seemed as though she was on the verge of disappearing and would do so any second. 

"Please, go ahead" the tenderness in his desperate plea surprised both of them as Charles worked her open for his leaking cock that held a renown for splitting open tight little cunts. "You sound so sweet when you do" his free hand now explored her ear by grazing the fingertips along the crevices of the helix and cartilage, some places pierced with small and shiny studs with expensive stones in them, other spots having gold earrings hanging from them.  

The Duke decided she was more extraordinary than everything he had ever seen in terms of beauty. 

Perhaps to a point where it shifted to the realm of the sublime. 

Immeasurably superior. 

Feeling the buzz in her cunt get stronger when he added another finger to her warm enclosure of soaking flesh, the girl threw her head back and whined when Charles enveloped one of her sore nipples between his lips again. "I- I understand, Master." And that was it.

It had to be now. 

The man tore himself away from her by sheer willpower for his chest wished not to be parted with hers much softer and inviting one, hard arms snaking under and around her back to reunite their contrasting skins as Charles' cock slipped into place against her opening as though it had been made only to do that. 

"It will hurt a little," lifting her off the bed, he moved onto his knees to move better as he readied himself to sink his cock deep within her. "But then it will feel so good you will beg me to keep you in this bed for days on end" the confused girl did not want to agree but her stimulated body was betraying her in ways more than one. "Just trust me…" His features twitched when he finally lowered his hips and her somewhat prepared entrance allowed the tip to violate the hot cavern, the feeling overwhelming him into groaning aloud and for the girl to reach for his broad shoulders to sink her nails in, eyes and mouth widening alike.

Was it even supposed to be put in there? 

She knew something happened behind the closed doors of a married pair for the fulfillment of marital duties and to create children but… this? 

Y/n did not know so she was not sure but as Charles started to move his hips, guiding her body with the arms he had around it to accommodate his soft thrusts, she wondered why the queer heart-upsetting feeling that made her somewhat nauseous felt a very unusual kind of… good at the same time amidst of everything. 

The girl could not recognize the feeling as pleasure just yet for she was yet to experience the end and get addicted to it like all did, but sweat broke out on her temples when she realized that she wanted him to go on, move faster, make the pain disappear and rub her in that way again to unravel the mysteries of this mysterious ball that was growing tighter and more suffocating by the passing second. 

"I am the biggest cock you've ever had, huh little one?" Her cheeks were flushed as she frowned in pain, mouth agape. "Say it" his demands were primal growls as he felt himself twitch inside her, one hand coming to pat her cheek condescendingly to get her to listen better. "Tell me I am the biggest cock you've ever had" the burn of her nails was too good against his hard shoulders. 

"Y- You are the biggest cock I h- have ever had, Master" Y/n's voice broke as she blinked away tears and stars, unaware of the meaning of her own words. 

"That is correct" he groaned as though in pain, tugging his cock out of her before pushing it back in again. "I am the biggest cock you have ever had. The only cock you had ever had" the man was breathless against her. "The only one you will ever have. You're all mine" the promise was sealed with a furious kiss. 

"P- Please…" For what, she knew not. But her head craned back as she jutted her chest out towards him to treat again the way he had been doing for the past few minutes, the marks that he had left on her skin hot and territorial. 

"What is it, sweet girl?" Charles husked as one of Y/n's hands moved to brush the mop of his curls away to get a better look at his blue eyes. So remarkably handsome. Her eyebrows furrowed as the sheer manliness of his aged face brought an indescribable shiver down her spine and made her clench around him, causing the man to grunt in pleasure as his hips started to speed up. 

"H- Hurts but feels so… so…" Charles smirked as he panted, struggling to move within her narrow passage of flesh. "D- Don't know but– oh," one of his hands dipped between her legs and the result was the most obscene sound she had ever made and he had ever heard. The genuineness of pure surprise and pleasure made The Duke's head spin. "Master!" 

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, my sweet" Charles spoke through a mouthful of one of her dark brown nipples, slurping at it and his own spit as he went. "Just trust Master and lay back, he will take care of you" her toes curled as she let out the same sensual sound again, arching her back and going limp momentarily due to the shock of whatever her body was suddenly subjected to. 

"I was made to protect you, only in death will I be kept from this oath" Charles whispered in her ear after moving to it, pressing kisses to it as well as her cheek to fuck out her orgasm to the best of his ability. It had been a while but that did not mean he had forgotten any of his infamous tricks. Y/n could only blink away the stars that appeared in her darkened vision as she barely made out his promise over the ringing of her ears coupled with the thumping of her heart. 

Was it a good thing?

What could be done if it was not?

Though as Charles grunted before she felt something warm and wet fill her cavern, the man reuniting his arms around her waist to piston into her harder and deeper than he had done in the past few minutes, she felt a sense of permanency wash over her. 

Something broken forever. 

An angel completely tainted. 

A cage eternally chained. 

The rosy pink mix of dissolved purity and unholy discharge below their conjoined bodies was a testament to the fact.

Tagging 🩷: @warriormirkwood @secretdream2 @hangmanscoming

[thegreatimpersonator]

since y'all seemed to want this.... here's the live notes i took while listening to each song for the first time (bold are thoughts i had during later listens)

fortnight: 

‘i was a functioning alcohol till nobody noticed my new aesthetic’ what the fuck does that even mean…

love the fact she gave post the female collab treatment. don’t wanna hear what he has to say. 

they’re voices sound actually good together? 

some pockets of the melody are catchy

okay i don’t hate this 

ttpd:

her red flags are on fire in this song lol

this seems very half-cooked

also jacks weird mixing continues to plague us all

CHARLIE PUTH???? WHAT THE FUCK WHY HE HERE

tattooed golden retriever??? ……no way

my boy breaks all his favorite toys:

i blinked and it’s half over

this also is like… half cooked and didn’t need to be released tbh

i love the way she sings the second verse tho

down and:

the production does not match the vibe

did tpain produce this

i’m… kinda bored lol

like i have nothing to say this also didn’t need to be released tbh 

this grew on me a lot actually

so long london 

the production is so futuristic? 

oh im obsessed with how she sounds on this one

her talk-singing in the verses is great

honest lyrics without any clunky unnecessary metaphors! a win!!

the fast-paced verses with th slow chorus is really really cool

a favorite so far

daddy i love him

i can barely hear her? the bad mixing continues 

‘growing up precociously sometimes means not growing up at all’ oh yeah WE KNOW

is this…… is this about her dating matty and loving how people hate him… no fucking way she’s this stupid

SHE IS BEING THIS STUPID

‘it’s white noise’ yeah yeah that’s exactly how id describe him  

.... anyway y'all remember when fans really believed the little mermaid theory and this song was supposed to be about how 'joe stole her voice' lmaooo

we will pretend this one doesn't exist!

fresh out the slammer

are we getting another ‘i didn’t cheat technically’ song lol

what is this weird tempo change….

okay kinda catchy

it’s sounds exactly like you are in love at the end….. jack is really out of tricks

florida

‘my friends all smell like weed or little babies’ what the fuck is she even talking about anymore 

i’m sorry but i’m laughing at the phrase ‘fuck me up florida’

again the production sounds so detached from the vocals 

i honestly still have no idea how i feel about this one

guilt as sin

an real instrument?? wow crazy 

okay she’s kinda cute? catchy and fun, love the melody

i love when she goes up at the end of the vocal 

okay…. i don’t mind this one she’s catchy, a little too long and drawn out but cute

who’s afraid of little old me?

what is this production? it’s way too soft to be as threatening as they’re trying for 

why did jack push her vocals back so far when she’s supposed to scream…. that’s ruins the whole thing…. she’s supposed to be screaming and threatening….. not quiet and far away…. hello

this song is trying very hard to be threatening but it’s not... vigilante shit 2.0

‘you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum they raised me’…………… upper middle-class pennsylvania? 

‘i’m drunk on my own tears isn’t that what they all say, that’ll  sue you if you step on my lawn’ okay bar?

the bridge was good but that’s about it.

i can fix him 

…………… not another matty song oh god

‘i can handle a dangerous man’…… im too stunned to speak this is so embarrassing 

wow taylor really is that girl who like ‘women supporting women’ and then dates/defends a racist bf…. a walking example of white feminism

intersectional feminism found dead.... twice....

loml

okay this is really nice? 

I WAS ACTUALLY ENJOYING THE SONG WHY DID SHE RUIN IT BY SAYING ‘MR STEAL YOUR GIRL’ 💀

if we ignore that one line we're good this is good. im refusing to let that line ruin such a good song

i can do it with a broken heart

‘bitch smile’ why are there so many cringey lyrics on this album lol

what is this song omg why do i kind of like it 

taylor please learn depressed isn’t a synonym for sad 

they recycled the mastermind production 

wait till taylor finds out most of the entire world is sad while they're doing their job and has to pretend they're not

smallest man who ever lived 

oh i think i like this?

‘you said normal girls were boring’ GIRL AND YOU DIDNT IMMEDIATELY GET UP AND LEAVE??? EWWWW??? she's not beating the pick-me allegations

'i just wanna know if rusting my sparking summer was the goal' okay love that line

i like this a lot

the alchemy

no….. no way this is real

i cannot

THE SPORTS METAPHORS WE JOKED SHED DO THAT AND SHE ACTUALLY DID IT OH NO 

touchdown ✅ teams ✅ benches ✅ winning streak ✅ the league ✅

she’s doing…… the worst thing ever this is so laughable 

the corny lyrics are on overload 

‘this time it’s heroine with an e’ didn’t she write folklore? i can’t remember 

that literally was an snl parody of a taylor song

clara bow

love how the guitar sounds… bet money this is an aaron track 

a stevie nicks reference!! a win!!!

i like this one a lot no cringey lyrics yet

nope never mind she name-dropped herself don’t like that

overall really liked it tho

the black dog

i think i like it?? this is kind of what i expected the album to be

okay for once the weird production choices kind of pay off

imgonnagetyouback

kinda catchy? 

she loves a fancy car getting wrecked line

the pre-choruses are the best part 

this would’ve been better without the jack of it all bc he loves a song that doesnt build to anything

this just comes down to personal preference: i don’t like her lighter vocals with jack’s heavy production (ie most of lover lol)

the albatross

a real instrument!!! production that matches taylor’s voice and is well mixed!!! aaron’s arrived!! 

i think it’s solid, has good writing and she sounds great. that's about it.

chloe or sam or…

took me a solid minute to have any semblance of a fuck to know what was going on but okay

okay i love this one

wayyyy more emotive than like… most of the original album

a lot of the 2nd version (or whatever this is lol) are way more emotive, maybe because her voice isnt drenched in reverb so we can actually hear her voice emote better

how did it end

this sounds like an old school adele song? 

i love this one too…. 

her being upset people wanna know what happened but then also feeding it while promoting the album oop 

i love the story of this one it's so refreshing

so high school

THE PRODUCTION is so good ugh aaron never fails 

the man here is a walking red flag girl and the lyrics are ~not it~ but the production is too pretty to hate it

fuck these lyrics are so bad lol

maybe if i disassociate hard enough i can ignore the lyrics and just listen to the production and vibe

give me a karaoke version of this song and we'd be so back

i hate it here

i mentioned disassociation and she made a whole song about it!!!! this one’s mine!!!! 

‘without all the racists’ GIRL HUH

WHAT WAS THE REASON

also... girl don’t act like we don’t know you’re fine with that lololololol

if i had a dime for every time i was liking a song to then have it slapped away because of a bad, out-of-pocket lyric…… 

thank you aimee

this isn’t grabbing my attention 

oh the bridge is interesting 

it’s meh 

i will never be thanking the people that bullied me thanks tho

i look in peoples windows 

what do you mean aaron didn’t produce this??? it’s well-made and has instruments? 

i love this one, again a really interesting and unique concept that's very refreshing to hear at this point when a lot of the songs feel repetitive

the prophecy

aaron guitar!!!! 

she’s nice i like her 

i've really grown to love how she sings this one, the melodies are cool.. however i feel like we've heard the same melody.. like on this exact album... where she upturns at the end of every line...

cassandra 

this seems very…. familiar… idk i feel like we’ve covered this (i mean there are 31 songs we’ve already covered everything lol)

this is such an aaron song, that's a classic 'the national' piano

i like her voice in this one tho, sounds good

peter

oh love i love this

now this? THIS feels the most like a taylor swift song

once again she’s at her best with a simple instrument and emotive simple lyrics

the piano reminds me of champagne problems

the bolter 

i like this! the chorus is so cute

oh i like that ending line a lot!

she’s cute, a little long and drawn out but cute

robin

i haven’t seen anyone talk about this one

welp…. i literally have no feelings toward this one but sounds pretty! 

the manuscript

oh this is soooooooo powerful 

i love this concept 

her ending the album on another introspective album that sums everything up a la dear reader yep yep!!

if you actually read of this ily 💗

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

⋆ ₊☽˚𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼˚☾₊ ⋆ 

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : you and coryo had gone through hell and back, you've been together and far apart yet you could never find the courage to say how you truly feel for him. so, you wrote them into letter form, but you never sent them. and so what happens when one mr. snow finds each and every letter only to realize that it's too late?

𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 : written in letter form from the readers perspective, talks of jealousy and sad feelings, r is definitely from the capitol, self blame, kinda sorta depression, angst, deceit, suicide, coryo finally responds

𝓪/𝓷 : so here’s part three!! I’m ngl I cried writing this and I KNOW people were asking for a happy ending but I’m just gonna tell y’all now that this is angst NO/VERY LITTLE COMFORT! I just had to do it so here ya go! enjoy 😊!

𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 | 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽

⋆ ₊ ☽ ·˚𓍲⋆ 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮: 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 ⋆𓍲˚· ☾ ₊ ⋆ Dear Coriolanus,

Time ticks on and on as does life; but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt and it certainly doesn't mean that pain fades away with each passing day.

I heard from Mrs.Plinth that Sejanus was killed out in the districts. It must be so saddening knowing that your young son who had his whole life ahead of him died out in the districts all by himself. 

I wonder if you saw him die, what were his last words? 

Mrs.Plinth didn’t share much only saying that it was out in the districts and that she was very grateful that you were there for him. 

Yet it also hurts knowing that you upended the trajectory of your life all for Lucy Gray. 

What could she give you that I couldn’t?

People experience pain in such different ways. I remember when you got a cut when we were climbing trees in my backyard and you were stone faced acting like you were okay when I knew you weren’t. You hate blood and you especially hate pain and I know that. 

All of us do really, I too was only eight when the war ended. We all went through the pain of hunger every single day, some even committed heinous acts to survive that will haunt them forever. 

Some cower in terror and pain yet some rise above the pain. Some use that pain and anguish as a motivator to push forward and persevere. 

Like you. 

You know me, the runt of the litter. The forgotten one. Yet not by you, I know you would never forget me. 

Just like I’ll never forget you. 

Which is why it hurts so much to know that you still chose Lucy Gray over me. It still kills me when I think about my best friend, my first and forever love, who I’ve been through so much with choose a girl he’s just met over someone who's been on your side since day one. 

What did I do wrong? Was it something I said? What could she have that I don’t?

Life has quieted down I guess, school is the same old same old, just the same boring day one after another. The Capitol just seems so dreary and dull, there is constant gloom plaguing the sky.

I like to think it’s because you’re not here. My sun, my moon illuminating the dark dark sky, shining brightly amongst the stars that have long burned out.

I really do miss you Coryo,

Yours Truly

Coriolanus,

I heard from Tigiris you’re finally on your way home.

Is Lucy Gray with you?

I wonder if she’s holding your hand at the very second, comforting you about coming back to the home you call hell. Have you told her about your life in the Capitol, I wonder?

Is she truly your home now, Coriolanus?

It seems everyone around me is finding what their lives were missing. Money, power, glory. Yet there is this hole in my heart and my life in the shape of you. 

I will never find home.

Many people say that home is where the heart is or that home is a person or idea rather than a physical place and they’re right.

Because my home will forever be you, Coriolanus.

And it rips my chest apart to know that I will never be able to go home because a pretty little bird has decided to peck her way into my home and build a fragile little nest. It hurts even more to know that you protected that nest.

Are there little birdies tweeting in that nest now?

I wonder if you have Sejanus’ stuff. You really were that boy's best friend, you know that Coriolanus?

Just like how you were my best friend. Before the war, before Celmensia, before Sejanus, before Lucy Gray.

But hey, you’re finally on the way back to the Capitol, right?

You’re finally coming back home to me.

I truly do hope I am the first one you call.

Love,

Your Darling awaiting your call

To Coriolanus Snow,

My grave has been long set for I dug it. I have made my bed now, I must lie in it.

By the time you read this I will have already been long dead. The ache in my chest drove me to it, the numbing hole that consumed my being was no longer tolerable.

My head was drowning in anger, sadness, love. All for you my dearest Coriolanus. 

I find myself writing as if there is tomorrow yet I truly do know that there won’t be a future for me. 

I’ve reread every single unsent letter I have written for you and the gaping hole in my chest grows larger with every word I read for I know deep in my soul that I will never be able to go back in time and tell myself that it’s all worth it because I’m ow that it isn’t. 

It’s ruining my life, Coriolanus, please do not think less of me for it. 

My body has been battered and bruised all my by my hand, my mind plaguing my sanity, my memories, with fields of death and despair. I find now that I find solace and comfort in the thought.

I have dropped out of school, not that anyone would have noticed. I stopped sketching too, you know. It’s just that whenever my pencil touches the page all my hand seems to be able to draw is your face. My sketchbook has been filled with sketches of your face, your eyes, you at that reaping ceremony, you when you went to visit Lucy Gray in the Capitol zoo. All you.

I cant take it anymore Coryo, my heart can’t take it anymore. 

My mind is plagued with images of your beautiful face, your smug smiles, your laughs where you hide those gorgeous hydrangea blue eyes of yours, the look on your face when I hugged you for the last time. 

I replay that moment in my head, constantly. I seemingly can’t stop thinking back on that moment and think about what I could have said or could have given you to make you stay. 

I would have done anything to have you stay, to have you be mine. 

To have you love me back. 

It’s a fickle thing, love. Fragile, yet powerful. It can make one go mad yet it can also ground you. It can drive you to murder for someone yet it can also motivate you to step in front of a bullet for someone. 

It can also motivate you to live or cause you to die.

Some find love a nessecity to live while some find it the reason for their demise. 

My dearest Coriolanus, I’m so terribly sorry. Yet I cannot help but akin love to a hardship. A pain, a pain that no matter how many dates I go on or how many men I flirt with that this pain will not go away. 

I really tried, Coryo, I really did. I tried so hard to move on, to love someone else even when I know a hole is where my heart is and you and only you hold that missing piece. 

I love you Coriolanus Snow. 

I love you Coryo. 

I love you. 

I’ve loved you every minute of every single day of every single month of every single year ever since we were young. It may have been youthful play love but it shifted as the moons do. 

I love you in every memory, every letter, and every dream that we meet. I love you in every minute and my love will forever live on in the velvety petals of pure white roses and pillowy hydrangeas. 

I’ll love you, no matter what, every day, every hour, every minute, every year, for the rest of my life.

I’ll forever love you, even when I’m no longer here.

I forgive you my love, forever and always. 

My only hope that you’ll forgive me.

My last wish is that you finally receive all those letters I wrote to you as a naive and young girl and look back that even now, I’m still me.

I’ll love you forever,

Your Dearest Darling Dead

tagging! @lonely-dreamer

thanks so much for the support and love on this series, it really does mean a lot to me and I hope to see you on the epilogue!

[blueish30]

THE STRANGE CASE OF DR. DOG AND MR. LITTLEWOOD

A life series Jekyll and Hyde rewrite

1800~ words

CHAPTER 2

In Search of Mr. Littlewood

The next day, Cleo went into her office and rummaged through her files until she produced the will of Doctor Ren Dog. It was in an envelope which she carefully pried open, slipping out the paper inside to read it. Mr. Littlewood, the name had rung a bell and she was sure this was it. ‘If I die, or disappear for three or more months, I leave all my assets to my good friend, Martyn Littlewood’. Cleo got a sick feeling which settled in her stomach, mingled with some annoyance. Did Ren know how despicable Martyn was? She couldn’t quite bring herself to visit Ren, instead opting for her old friend Doc. He had never told anyone his real name, so everyone just settled for Doc.

When Cleo let herself into his house as she normally did, she saw him sat by the fire in his lounge, with a cup of something steaming, likely tea cradled in his hands. His head tilted towards the door, though he didn’t even have to look back to know who it was.

“Ah, Cleo! Come in,” he welcomed, a rare smile tugging at his lips. Doc was a lanky, brown haired man, strewn out on an armchair. He and Cleo had been friends since college, and stayed close ever since. Cleo couldn’t help but smile back, she sat on his other armchair, they talked for a good while, Cleo was trying to work up the courage to ask him about Ren, the words just got stuck in her throat when she tried. Finally, she managed it.

“Are you and Ren still friends?” Cleo asked after a moment of silence. Doc tilted his head, appearing almost in contemplation.

“I hope so,” he admitted. “I don’t see him much now.” Cleo gave him a sympathetic look, Doc and Ren used to be extremely close, but had clearly drifted apart in recent years. Infact, Ren had drifted away from everyone. However, Cleo was also a little confused.

“You two both enjoy science, why hasn’t he, well, invited you over to do science things together?” Cleo waved her hand, Ren used to be a sociable man. The air in the room changed near instantly, Doc’s brow furrowed, and nose wrinkled.

“Ren’s changed. He began proposing things that downright ignored all laws of god, and nature,” Doc scoffed. “Far too imaginative, and unrealistic. I told him how stupid he sounded, and we’ve hardly seen one another since,” Cleo barely held back a snort of amusement, years of friendship down the drain in the name of science? If anything, they both sounded stupid. She chose to nod instead and pose her next question.

“Have you ever met his friend, Martyn Littlewood?”

“Martyn Littlewood?” Doc repeated, “Never heard of the man,” he shook his head. Cleo nodded, the two talked for many more hours before Cleo thanked him and left, retreating to her own house, and to bed. Her thoughts were plagued with Martyn Littlewood, conjuring up ideas of what this evil man could possibly look like, each new idea worse than the last. Then she thought of Ren, and imagined Martyn slaughtering the poor doctor just so he could get the inheritance. She worried deeply for Ren and his safety. When she at last woke up from her restless slumber, she’d made a decision. She would find Martyn Littlewood, to at least quell her imagination.

She spent a slightly unhealthy amount of time awaiting Littlewood’s appearance. She lingered on Wart Street so much so that people had began giving her looks, some were of pity, others of distaste and likely judgement but it didn’t matter. One night she was successful at last. It was a clear winter night with a chill that settled in your bones, no matter how many layers were used. She heard heavy, lumbering footsteps on the pavement, a figure was walking towards the house she was standing near. It was a hunched figure, concealed by the darkness of the night, it seemed even the faint light from the lampposts done little to shed light on him, as if he just absorbed it. She stepped to stand beside it, placing a hand on its shoulder.

“Mr. Littlewood?” She recoiled her hand immediately, it was cold- no, more than cold to the touch, she didn’t care for manners, she swore her hand would drop off if she kept it on there any longer. Strangely, she found herself detesting the person before it’d even said a word. She wanted to try and tolerate it, but it was as if her subconscious repulsed the person entirely.

“That's me. What do you want?” Martyn replied, near snappily. Cleo’s nose wrinkled, there was really no need for the attitude, and she had half a mind to tell him so, but decided it was better not to anger the man further.

“You’re friends with Ren Dog.” Cleo stated, “As am I, this is your house?” She left him no time to respond and continued, “May I come in?” She inquired.

“Ren isn’t home.” He returned cooly, as if that perfectly answered her question. He paused, “How do you know me?” He asked suspiciously. Cleo ignored the question.

“Let me see your face.” She demanded. Martyn paused, appearing to think this over before he stepped into the lamppost’s glow, tilting his head up to peer at her. His appearance was ingrained in her memory and she feels physically sick just thinking about it. His face was pinched, expression sour and bitter and his eyes gleamed with something Cleo couldn’t quite pinpoint. The finer details she cannot describe, but Gem hadn’t lied, he was evil. Cleo swallowed back bile and just nodded. “Now I can recognise you.” She mumbled, mainly to herself. Martyn nodded,

“Incase you must find me again.” He added, Cleo frowned, did he know about Ren’s will? Her blood ran cold for a moment before she snapped out of her momentary daze.

“Uh, yeah, yeah.” She mumbled.

“How do you know me?” Martyn repeated his earlier question, already thin eyes narrowed to slits in suspicion.

“You were described to me,” she replied, careful not to give too much away,

“By who?” He pressed further.

“I’m acquainted with people who know you,” she explained rather pathetically and vaguely.

“Who?” He snapped once more, Cleo wracked her brain for a name.

“Dr Ren?-“

“He didn’t tell you!” Martyn snarled, anger twisting and pulling at his face, contorting it in a vile way. “Don’t you dare lie!” The sudden change was surprising, Cleo hadn’t time to react before Martyn had turned and walked briskly up the path to his house, opening the door and slamming it behind him. She stood and stared at the house for a good few minutes, attempting to process it all. Gem was right, that man was evil- oh and poor Ren Dog, she’d bet he's just oblivious to the wrongness of his new friend, she was certain Martyn would bring nothing but doom.

Cleo had to warn him, she walked quickly down the pavement, feet slapping against the stone in a quick rhythm. Her thoughts were a mess, not only was she thrown off by the appearance of the man, but also the attitude. And how did he know Ren had never described him to her? She could think about the finer details later. The house which Martyn had went into, Cleo knew, was Ren’s laboratory. It connected to Ren’s actual house, which was on a parallel street, the one right behind Wart Street. She rapped quickly on the door, shifting her weight anxiously, Martyn could be killing Ren right now, for all she knew! A servant answered the door, telling Cleo that Ren wasn’t home right now.

“But, I saw Martyn come in, through the house on Wart Street?” She made a confused face. The servant nodded.

“Yeah, he has a key, comes ‘n goes when he wants.”

“Oh.” Cleo stared, this was much worse then she thought.

About two weeks later, Ren hosted a dinner party, the first one in ages. He invited many people, notably Cleo. Ren was a tall man, with brown hair flecked silver. He seemed more docile than normal, near withdrawn, only speaking when spoken too. The feeling of wrongness just grew. After everyone but Cleo, and Ren had left, she spoke up.

“I’ve been needing to talk to you, about your will.” Ren’s head turned at what must be breakneck speed, eyeing her, before his expression returned to the disquieting calm it’d been all evening.

“You worry too much.” He sighed, rising to his feet from where he was sat on an armchair. His joints clicked with the movement, Ren was what now, mid fifties? He walked over to Cleo, pausing infront of her. “It’s unnecessary, like Doc’s. You know when I talked to him, he told me it was unrealistic, and stupid.” Ren grumbled and sat beside Cleo. She nodded, pretending not to know already. “I’m just upset I couldn’t show him how much better the world will be with my ideas.” She didn’t press for more information, fearing she wouldn’t like what she found out, instead she changed the subject.

“Your will. You know I don’t agree with it.” Ren sighed, eyes darting to fix on her.

“You tell me everytime I see you.” He retorted, though without any bite to his tone.

“Yes well, this time, I’ve got evidence of Martyn’s wrongdoings-“ Ren paled immediately and interrupted Cleo.

“Say no more!” He averted his eyes and quietened his tone. “You don’t understand, I wish you could. My situation is painful.” He admitted. Cleo put a hand on his arm.

“Please, you can tell me everything, I can help you!” She insisted. Ren let out a soft laugh.

“Oh, Cleo you’re too kind, I really want to, I do, but I can’t, it’s private.” He offered a small, almost pained smile. “However, Martyn is my friend, but you must understand, I can get rid of him anytime I please.” Ren assured Cleo. “I’m sorry, he told me he wasn’t very polite to you, but I care for him as if he was my kin.” Cleo wrinkled her nose.

“I won't ever like him.” She said bluntly. Ren didn’t look at Cleo, and his smile fell.

“I don’t think you can ever, I just need my will honoured when I go.” He sighed. Cleo was silent for a few moments, heavily debating ripping up the will the moment she got home, but decided against it. She removed her hand from Ren’s arm.

“Fine.” She begrudgingly promised.

[audreyscribes]

Wait?! I had another idea (I’m so sorry I don’t mean to spam your inbox, feel free to ignore me if you want).

So like, a child of Pandora, Pandora is an immortal in the Pjo universe but not necessarily a goddess. So if she had a kid I feel like they’d be something like a demigod or legacy (considering Pandora was brought to life by the gods) but also like kinda not.

Like do you see the vision.

They just kinda show up at camp and the campers are just slightly in constant fear at the thought of the child of Pandora releasing some kind of evil upon them.

Meanwhile the child of Pandora is just minding their own business and like playing pinochle with Mr D.

I mean you can argue that all of humans are technically a legacy of Pandora, being First Mortal Woman that was formed by the gods…alright I’m joking. I know what you’re getting at lol. 

Pandora becoming an immortal after her death would make sense if we go with Pandora being made with the hands of the gods and their essence mingled in with her, and she is immortalised by memory by being said-first woman and also for opening the Jar that led to…humanity suffering all kinds of evil that plague mankind. 

I can see her descendants being treated as a legacy, since she’s not really a god so she can’t have demigod children, and you can make the argument that Pandora is a demigod too but schematics and technicality. 

As for the legacy of Pandora being received…well legacies and reputation does exceed and carry on very well. With the variation of tellings that Pandora released the plagues of evil was unintentionally, as the gods made her very curious and she opened it unknowingly, or evil and cunning because the gods told her to and she complied; honestly, the gods made Pandora to open the evils in punishment and so it just sticks unfortunately. Being a descendent of Pandora does have its advantages however. In the PJO retelling of the story, Zeus took Aphrodite’s suggestion and had Hephaesteus moulded Pandora out of clay; Zeus breathed life into her; Aphrodite gave her great beauty and charm to make her irresistible; Apollo with how to sing and play the lyre; Demeter with how to tend to a garden; Poseidon gave Pandora a pearl necklace and promised she would never drown; Athena gave her cleverness and curiosity and weaving and crafting, Hermes with his ‘deceitfulness’ (In Hesiod version, Hermes gave her boldness and cunningness specifically). 

So you can imagine that being a descendent/legacy of Pandora, there’s a chance you either have all of Pandora’s attributes or much like being human, they feel more in tune with some aspects and some not so much. Storywise; just as the children of Pandora inherit her legacy and gifts, they are also burdened with Pandora’s legacy in what she had done, forever to carry it as long humanity continues, as well as being plagued or cursed with one of the evils that was released from the pithos. Like being chased or cursed with one of the embodiments of the evils.

I think it does fit somewhat that Mr. D playing a game of Pinochle with the legacy of Pandora since well, its Dionysus, he’s immune to any potential vibe that the child of Pandora may be carrying due their lineage.

FUN FACT: Pandora ends up giving birth to a girl named Pyrrha (Fire) who is the first child born of a mortal mother. Pyrrha marries Deukalion (son of Prometheus) and they end up having many sons and daughters…including a girl named Pandora who is named after the first Pandora.  Leading on with the fun fact, it’s only inevitable that if that every legacy of Pandora who ends up being a born as a girl is cursed to bear the name Pandora as a constant reminder of the First Woman’s legacy. Truly a legacy, but what is a legacy? 

[bnhaobservation]

Changing society even MORE in BNHA for a real PLUS ULTRA

So in my past post “Changing society in BNHA” I theorized that the change watching Midoriya fight was meant to bring in the society, was making it aware they should help their Heroes instead than just watching them. So far it still seems an idea that holds.

We see that the common folks as well as the U.A. first grades are all willing to help Heroes and are looking at the future optimistically and pro-active. They don’t want anymore just to be coddled by Heroes but helps them bringing them food, helping them to rebuild things.

But I wonder if this is really how it’s meant to end.

Midoriya wanted to stop the circle of hate, but until outcasts live, the circle of hate will never be broken.

Until people can’t accept everyone isn’t born equal and that’s fine, there will be another Heteromorph that gets abused and will become another Spinner, there will be another kid whose father won’t accept he like Heroes and that’ll be abused until he’ll snap and then someone else will take advantage of him and he’ll become Shigaraki Tomura, there’ll be another kid with parents that rejects and try to suppress his quirk and that will become Toga Himiko, there’ll be another kid ignored and neglected by his parents who’ll come to think they don’t want him who will become Dabi, there will be a nice man who, due to an incident, will become a homeless unable to find work until he’ll resort to use his Quirk to steal who’ll become Twice, there will be someone who’ll think Heroes just gain too much money while ignoring those who’re poor who’ll become Mr. Compress and so on.

And it was made clear that they can’t stop all this because they don’t really have that many Heroes and the refusal to stop and turn sides of Shuuichi, Tomura, Himiko, Touya, Jin and Atsuhiro in the story proves that when people are pushed too far it’s hard to save them, it might as well be too late, they’re just too disillusioned, I mean, even Himiko who regretted hurting Ochako and was touched by her words in the end chose death over living in the world in which Heroes would win because she knew that world wasn’t for her and Touya’s family reached out for him too late when his condition deteriorated too much, as for Hawks’ offer of helping Jin it came too late and at the price of abandoning the people who had been faster to help and welcome Jin.

Heroes were too late, they let things deteriorate too much, beyond the breaking point.

And they’ll continue deteriorating because Heroes more often than not step in solely when the problem is too big, when a person has turned to crime as the answer because they believes all the other ways had been cut from them (we’ll discuss in another post if this is true or not, for the sake of this post just let’s leave it as ‘they believed there was no other way’ and end it here).

Society has no plan to correct its shortcoming, Shuuichi’s book about Shigaraki Tomura is going to work like the old Destro’s book, it’s going to encourage people who’re oppressed by society to destroy it because there’s no way out. They might have kept Shuuichi alive but they didn’t save him. Tomura was his friend, now Shuuichi is alone, angry and desperate, plagued by guilt because he didn’t step in and saved his friend. It’s not just he’ll be jailed, it’s he still thinks this society wouldn’t accept him and for him there’s no way out to live if not destroying it.

So now what?

We’ll wait for the new Re-Shigaraki and Re-Re-Destro?

Well, there’s still a thing that Midoriya and Co. can do.

Chap. 428 brings up how Uraraka wants to suppress her feelings of pain for failing to save Himiko but can’t, mirroring how Himiko just couldn’t suppress her own feelings. The difference will be in how she’ll have her friends (or just Midoriya) supporting her. It also brings up how Midoriya, despite being considered a Hero for murdering Shigaraki actually feels bad for doing it. Fundamentally he hears a boy telling him that he inspired him by murdering the person Midoriya wanted to save, Shuuichi’s friend, by becoming an unwilling murderer. Midoriya feels bad but, same as Uraraka, he’s bottling it up inside himself.

People had been asking for the permission to interview class A. Aizawa refused.

However if it’ll be Midoriya and Uraraka who’ll take part to an interview and won’t just say the usual ‘oh, Villains need to fear Heroes, now we’re here, we’ll crush them’ but will talk about how Tenko and Himiko wouldn’t have turned into Villains if someone had helped them first. Shouji could help explaining how hard Heteromorph life still is outside the city, Shouto could explain the importance he had for him that Midoriya reached out for him to help him change his mindsetting and so on.

If we want to involve the adults, Hawks too could give an extra talk of how Jin was a good person and if they had helped him FIRST he wouldn't have turned into a Villain, Aizawa and Hizashi could talk of who previously was Kurogiri and how a side of him never died even if he was turned into a Nomu and All Might and Gran Torino might join to explain how they regretted they failed to protect Shimura's family.

Because really, it’s easy to criticize Tomura once he turned into a Villain, once he became a terrible person… but originally he was just a little kid who wanted to become a Hero and if people had helped him he wouldn’t have turned into a Villain and the point of understanding the root of this isn’t just to turn Tomura's story into a ‘sob story’ and feel bad for him, for the rest of the league, to give them a pass, it’s to stop the same mistakes from repeating. If society doesn’t learn anything from the tragedy of Shigaraki Tomura, that tragedy will repeat. Again, and again, and again.

So I wonder if this will be the next step in BNHA.

Class A using the League’s tragedies not to save the League’s members, it’s too late for that, Tomura, Himiko and Jin are dead, Touya is going to die too and Shuuichi’s life is likely going to be shortened by how he has more than one Quirk, saving the League can’t be anymore done… but others can be saved… if society learns from the League’s tragedies and help people not to become the next League, they will be saved and society will become the horde of ‘heroes’ the world need.

After all one didn’t need to be a Hero to save the League’s members BEFORE they become Villains, it was enough they were given a little of human warmth and care, the story proves it over and over that this is enough to save people.

But well, again this is just food for thoughts, we still have two chapters to see where BNHA is heading, if mystery guy will need to be saved by a titular Hero or if a common folk will be inspired by Heroes to extend a helping hand and SAVE HIM before he’ll turn into a Villain…. Or better, save him from turning into a Villain. For now we can only wait and see.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Hiya!! So I think I asked you this a long time ago, so I'm sorry if it's repetitive, but I was wondering if you could recommend me a Elizabeth Gaskell novel? :) In your opinion, which one should I start off with? Hope u don't mind this ask haha

I'm really sorry, lately it's taking me a while to answer asks :(

I want to make a full guide on Gaskell at some point... when I have finished reading her work. The fact that I haven't read, for example, Mary Barton or Sylvia's Lovers yet influences my recommendations (but of course anyone who has read them can chime in!)

A lot of people, I daresay most, begin Gaskell by North and South, mostly because the 2004 series is very famous and beloved, so they watch it and go for the book. And probably don't read anything by her again because they are disappointed.

I don't think it's the absolute worst place to begin (Ruth would probably be it; it's a very heavy, tragic, sad novel, a blunt social commentary with some reminiscences of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, but not with the dexterity that one has), but it's not a good one; the whole process of writing the book and finishing it was plagued by Dickens being jealous and bothersome, which ended up producing some uneven pacing and dei ex machina. Besides that, it sits in a weird spot where it is too bleak for The Austen ReaderTM but not Gothic enough for The Brontë ReaderTM.

The thing with Gaskell is that she was a prolific author who tried her hand at different genres and subgenres, ad who wrote short stories, novellas, and novels. Where to start will depend a lot on what are you the most interested in reading.

If you want something sort of like Austen, the best bet to get an idea of her style and the tone of her lighter work is Mr Harrison's Confessions. It's a fun, cliche story. If you want to commit to a novel, Wives and Daughters is also light and "austenesque", and vastly considered her best work. It is unfinished, but unfinished very, very close to the end (only the last wrap up of the wrap up is missing, but even then most editions carry an editor's note with an explanation of the general idea of what Gaskell had planned for that before she died).

Six Weeks at Happenheim is a bucolic story set in Germany, about a man recovering from illness.

Cranford is more of a bridge novel, also short-ish, between the lighter and the more melancholy, mournful type of story (such as My Lady Ludlow or Cousin Phillis) of reminiscence she used to write.

The 2007 Cranford series is a mash up of Cranford, My Lady Ludlow, and Mr Harrison's Confessions.

Gaskell also wrote several Gothic stories; I haven't read many of those, but I can recommend The Doom of the Griffiths and Lois the Witch as good examples.

She also wrote what I think was the first biography of Charlotte Brontë, titled The Life of Charlotte Brontë. I got this one as a present this Christmas and it is the next work of hers I intend to read!

So... where to start with Gaskell? Another important thing to keep in mind is that, as a writer, she takes her time to set the mood. She likes her purple prose, and you need to slow down to her pace, specially in her novels. So if you had a hard time with, for example, the rhythm of Jane Eyre, perhaps trying a shorter story first to see how you jive with her style of writing can be a good idea.

In short: if you want more of a Austen-y mood, try either Mr Harrison's Confessions or Wives and Daughters.

If you want more of a mix of humor and melancholy, like a distant cousin to the tone of Sense and Sensibility, try Cranford. Also try Cranford if you think stories about old ladies matter!

If you want to read her most famous work at this point, do try North and South. Just don't take it as completely representative of all her work or her talent as a writer. It is a good representation of the social aspect of her novels, and I have heard very often that it is an interesting complement/contrast with Mary Barton (which was her first novel).

If you want some Gothic goodness, start by The Doom of the Griffiths.

[saoney]

A Match Made in Flour⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⭑ Satoru Gojo + [Fem! Reader] .ᐟ ➜ Credit wholeheartedly goes to @wttcsms, I'm just playing around with her cute ideas <3

[Y/N] wasn’t sure what she was doing in this quaint little town. After years of city life, moving here felt like stepping into another century. But it was charming in its own way—the slower pace, the friendly neighbors, the cozy streets. And then there was Mrs. Nakamura.

From the moment [Y/N] moved into the cottage next door, the elderly woman had taken her under her wing. She’d show up unannounced with fruit preserves or fresh flowers from her garden. In return, [Y/N]—who had a penchant for overcooking—often brought her meals and baked goods.

“[Y/N], you’re too good for this world,” Mrs. Nakamura had told her one evening over tea. “But don’t you worry—I’ve got plans for you.”

[Y/N] had laughed, taking a sip of her tea. “Plans?”

“Oh, yes. My grandson, Satoru Gojo, is coming to visit next week. He’s handsome, smart, and successful. Perfect for you!”

[Y/N] nearly choked. “Mrs. Nakamura, I’m not—”

“Trust me. You’ll see,” the old woman said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

[Y/N] waved it off, not taking her seriously. Blind dates, matchmaking—those were things she avoided like the plague. Besides, she was perfectly happy on her own, thank you very much.

But a week later, she regretted not taking Mrs. Nakamura more seriously.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

It had been a chaotic day in [Y/N]’s kitchen. What was supposed to be a simple strawberry shortcake had turned into an all-out war with the mixing bowl. Flour coated her apron, streaked her cheeks, and even managed to settle in her hair. She was a walking disaster.

She glanced at the clock. It was nearly 7 PM—Mrs. Nakamura’s dinnertime. Grabbing the freshly baked cake, she decided to deliver it before it was too late. Surely Mrs. Nakamura wouldn’t mind her disheveled appearance.

But when she knocked on the door, it wasn’t Mrs. Nakamura who answered.

The man standing before her was tall—absurdly tall—and so stunning it almost hurt to look at him. Tousled white hair, striking blue eyes framed by long lashes, and an easy grin that felt both mischievous and charming. His crisp shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, contrasted sharply with [Y/N]’s flour-covered chaos.

[Y/N] blinked, speechless, as he leaned casually against the doorframe, his eyes sweeping over her.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice smooth as honey. “So, you’re the famous [Y/N] I’ve been hearing about.”

[Y/N]’s brain short-circuited. Famous?

“And you must be...?” she managed, though her voice was embarrassingly small.

“Satoru Gojo,” he said, his grin widening. “Also known as the grandson Grandma won’t stop bragging about. And, apparently, your future husband.”

[Y/N]’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

He chuckled, stepping aside to let her in. “Relax, I’m joking. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” she echoed, still frozen in place.

“Well, she did call me last week to say she found my soulmate, and she couldn’t stop talking about your cooking. I’m not gonna lie—I was curious.”

[Y/N] flushed. “I—this isn’t—I just brought her some cake.” She held up the plate, as if it were a peace offering.

“And what a coincidence,” he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I happen to love cake.”

[Y/N] sighed, stepping inside as he closed the door behind her. Mrs. Nakamura was nowhere to be seen, which made her suspicious. “Where’s your grandma?”

Satoru shrugged, leaning against the kitchen counter. “She ran off to play matchmaker somewhere else. Told me to hold down the fort.”

Of course, she did.

[Y/N] placed the cake on the table, brushing a stray lock of flour-dusted hair from her face. “Look, I don’t know what your grandma told you, but I’m not looking for—”

“A relationship?” he finished for her, still grinning. “Good, neither am I. Too much effort. But…” He tilted his head, studying her. “If you’re the one cooking, I might make an exception.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “You’ve got some nerve.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, unfazed. “But don’t worry—I’ll earn my keep. I make a mean cup of coffee.”

[Y/N] couldn’t help but laugh, despite herself. His confidence was infuriating, but his charm was disarming. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable,” he shot back without missing a beat.

[Y/N]’s cheeks warmed again, but before she could respond, Mrs. Nakamura appeared in the doorway, her face lighting up at the sight of them. “Oh, wonderful! You’ve met!”

“Grandma,” Satoru said, gesturing dramatically toward [Y/N]. “You didn’t tell me she was this cute. Or that she’s got the baking skills of a Michelin-star chef.”

Mrs. Nakamura beamed. “I told you she was perfect for you!”

[Y/N] groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Satoru chuckled, stepping closer. “Get used to it, [Y/N]. Grandma’s got a plan, and honestly… I’m not complaining.”

[Y/N] peeked out from between her fingers, meeting his playful gaze. And despite herself, she couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe, just maybe, this little town wasn’t so bad after all. ⊹₊⟡⋆

thinking abt reader being an absolute sweetheart. you just moved to a new small town, and you don’t know anybody. you’re neighbors with an adorable little old lady, and you love to cook but have a bad habit of making too much food, so you start making her dinner, too, and keeping her company. she’s comfortable enough with you to tell you that you need to stay single for just a little longer because her grandson is coming to visit and he’s amazing and smart and successful. he’s perfect for you!!! you just laugh and promise her you’ll try, not taking her seriously.

you really should’ve, though. because one night, when you’re in a hurry and covered in flour, your apron still on, you walk over to her house to deliver her the cake you just made. you don’t expect the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on to open the door. and you’re certainly not prepared for him to give you a once-over before smiling.

“so you’re my future wife that grandma keeps bragging about.”

[kvibe-test]

Taking the Leap: Interning Abroad for the First Time

When I first entertained the idea of interning abroad, it felt almost unreal. The prospect of packing up my belongings and moving to a new country for a few months brought with it equal parts excitement and apprehension. At the time, I was finishing up my third year of university, and the thought of stepping out of my comfort zone and diving into a completely different culture was both exhilarating and terrifying.

I remember having long conversations with my friends and family about my intentions. My friend Sarah was particularly supportive. "Just imagine the stories you'll have to tell and the people you’ll meet," she would say, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. I suppose deep down, I knew this was something I wanted—needed—to do. But the overarching question remained: why?

Factors Influencing My Decision

Several factors influenced my decision to seriously consider interning abroad. Firstly, the urge to experience a new culture was stronger than ever. Growing up, I had always been surrounded by stories of my parents' travels and adventures. Now, it seemed like my moment to create my own.

Secondly, career development played a significant role. In today’s globalized world, having international experience on my resume seemed invaluable. "Imagine the edge it will give you in job interviews," my mentor, Mr. Davis, often reminded me. He once mentioned, "Employers are constantly on the lookout for candidates who have demonstrated adaptability and cultural competence."

Moreover, I was drawn by the opportunity to build a global network. Being connected with professionals and fellow interns from around the world could open doors I hadn't even dared to dream of. The thought of attending networking events and learning from industry leaders in another country was tantalizing. I could picture myself exchanging ideas with my peers over coffee in a bustling city cafe.

Excitement and Apprehension

Yet, with all the excitement came a fair share of apprehension. The 'what-ifs' plagued my mind more than I’d care to admit. "What if I can't adjust to the culture?" I wondered late at night. Looking at my sister for support, she assured me, "Every new experience comes with its challenges, but think about how much you'll grow." Her words were a comfort.

Financial concerns were another significant worry. Living in a new country can be expensive, and the idea of managing a budget in an unfamiliar currency was daunting. I remember scouring the internet for scholarships and grants specific to international internships, bookmarking pages for further research. Aunt Marie lent a practical piece of advice: "Start saving now, and look for part-time remote jobs you can do while interning."

Fear of isolation also lingered. The thought of being away from everything I considered familiar was overwhelming at times. How would I make new friends? What if the language barrier was too much to handle? These insecurities were hard to shake, but remembering the excitement kept me going.

The Initial Research

The initial research phase was intense and, at times, overwhelming. I spent countless hours browsing through online forums and blogs of past interns. One blog, in particular, stood out. The author had interned in Tokyo and her vivid descriptions of everyday life there were captivating. Her advice was practical and, most importantly, reassuring. "It's going to be a rollercoaster of emotions," she wrote, "but every moment is worth it."

I also joined Facebook groups related to international internships. These groups were gold mines of information—suggestions on affordable housing, tips on navigating public transport, and even recommendations on where to get the best local cuisine. "People are generally very helpful if you’re willing to ask for it," one member commented when I expressed my concerns about integrating into a new community.

It wasn’t just casual browsing; I started compiling a list of potential countries and companies that appealed to me. London was high on my list—I had always been fascinated by its history and vibrant energy. However, the thought of interning in a city like Berlin, known for its start-up culture, was equally enticing.

To get a head start, I reached out to a few companies directly, inquiring about their internship programs. To my delight, some replied with information on their application process and what they looked for in candidates. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and my email correspondence with them often ended with a hopeful "looking forward to your application."

Talking to alumni from my university who had gone through similar experiences also helped. They shared their stories, from the mundane to the magical, and listening to them made the whole idea less intimidating and more achievable. "It's a leap of faith,” one of them, Mike, said, “but it's one you'll never regret."

By the time I had gathered sufficient information, my mind was made up. I didn't have all the answers, and there were still many uncertainties. Yet, the vision of immersing myself in a different culture and paving the path for future career opportunities was too compelling to ignore.

"The world is so much bigger than you think," my grandma once told me, "and you won't truly understand it until you see it for yourself." Her wisdom gave me the final push I needed. With a heart full of dreams and a mind prepared for challenges, I decided to seriously pursue an internship abroad.

This is just the beginning of my journey. In future posts, I will delve deeper into my application process, the preparations, and the experiences I will gather along the way. For now, I am ready to embark on an adventure that promises to shape not just my career, but my very outlook on life.

[rapifessor]

Pokéchronology, Volume I: Yellow

Day 6

This post will be on the shorter side, as I didn't have much time to play thanks to being much busier at work today. I also ended up playing through a pretty long sequence, which didn't help but in the end I think things worked out nicely.

If you don't like Pokémon Yellow spoilers, don't keep reading!

Getting Organized

Before going off to progress the game, I want to sort out a few things. First, there are some other Pokémon I caught earlier that I hadn't mentioned. I write these posts at the end of the day so I have to try and remember every little thing that happened, and it's hard to keep track of all the Pokémon I catch.

So, I've got a Magnemite named Insanic, a Drowzee named Sumba, another Clefairy named Berryfairy, Doug the Diglett, and Gnatman the Venonat. I might have mentioned Gnatman already. Told you it's hard to keep track. Maybe I should write some condensed notes as I do things, but I dunno. It'd probably be way too annoying to stop every time I catch a Pokémon. A better idea would be to just look at my box in the PC before calling it quits and writing a post.

Moving on. I debated about whether I should evolve my Eevee into Flareon or Vaporeon. At first glance, Flareon seems like the more attractive option, since I didn't yet have a good Fire type. On the other hand, Vaporeon learns Ice moves, which give me coverage against Dragon types that might become a problem later. In the end I decided on Vaporeon as I felt I could deal with all the types Fire would give me an edge against easily enough.

Unfortunately, Starry didn't learn any Water moves after evolving for some reason. No matter, as I would need to level them up to gain access to their Ice moves anyway. To that end, I visited the daycare to reclaim Pear, who was now on the cusp of evolving into Fearow, who I plan on teaching Fly to once I get the HM. I replaced them with Starry and set off to check out Saffron City.

Saffron City

I only planned on checking out what this city had to offer before heading off to Route 16 and going to some of the other gyms. I'm not ready to challenge Sabrina yet; her Pokémon are all Psychic type of course, which is only resisted by itself and they're all level 50, while my Pokémon are still considerably below that.

As it happens, I couldn't enter Saffron Gym even if I wanted to, as Team Rocket has descended upon the city like a plague. I would put a stop to that soon enough, but I wanted to explore the city some more.

Compared to Celadon, there's really not much going on in Saffron City. I got the TM for Psychic, which I used on Miles, by going to "Mr. Psychic's" House. Other than that there seems to just be the Silph Building, which is the center of trouble in the city. Maybe there will be more to do here later, but for now it's rather barren despite its size.

Silph Building

On to the main event. Team Rocket is at it again, and as usual it's up to me, a 10 year-old kid apparently, to fuck up their shit. But this time, the Pokémon they command in battle are noticeably stronger. They're in the high 20's at a minimum, with some surpassing 30. One of the Rockets or Scientists even had five Pokémon if I remember correctly. The only Pokémon I had above level 30 were Prinzessin, Miles, and Mycoboss, and not by much.

At the end of the day though, they're all Pokémon I can dispatch with ease. In fact, that's why my highest leveled Pokémon are what they are; the game keeps spamming me with Normal and Poison types, which Prinzessin and Miles, respectively, excel at dispatching.

It wasn't long before I got the TM for Earthquake as well. You know what that means: Prinzessin now has a VERY strong Ground move at her disposal, which she gets STAB for, and makes her into the ultimate counter to Electric types. Not only is she straight up immune to Electric, she's also able to demolish them in a single attack. Every Voltorb and Magnemite that previously gave me trouble with their fixed-damage moves and lack of weakness to my team is now as good as dead.

As I battled my way through Rockets and Scientists and a random Juggler whose gimmick seems to be that they switch Pokémon unlike other trainers, I got a ton of useful items. I had to make a couple trips out of the building to stash the goodies because there were so many (again, this is where the lack of inventory space becomes frustrating. I hope this restriction gets removed quickly in subsequent generations).

The Gary Cometh

Eventually, I found my way into the isolated room on one of the floors, where I once again come face to face with who else but Gary. Since it hasn't been that long since the last battle with him, I wasn't expecting too much different from him. Sure, he's got that Fearow but BIG RAT knows Thunderbolt now. I shouldn't have too much trouble.

Boy, was I wrong, because Jesus CHRIST his Pokémon are strong. Their levels are all in the high 30's at least, essentially 10 levels above all my Pokémon, AND they're all fully evolved. Gary opens with his newly-evolved Sandslash. Thinking I could simply destroy it, I brought out Ominous and got hit by a Sand Attack. Sandslash is faster though, and they deal a whopping 70 damage to Ominous with Slash before I can even get off a Bubble Beam. My move hits, but it doesn't even deal half of Sandslash's HP in damage. We're off to a rough start. Ominous is my best counter to Sandslash, so I have to keep it out but I need to use a Super Potion to keep it alive. Sandslash uses Sand Attack again, giving Ominous a chance to attack once more. They get hit with another critical Slash, and dropped to low HP again. Miraculously, my second Bubble Beam connects, and deals a critical hit, taking out Sandslash.

Next is Ninetales. A much easier opponent to fight compared to Sandslash. I keep Ominous out and heal them again. My first Bubble Beam misses, but I land the second one and deal enough damage to drop Ninetales below half HP. One more Bubble Beam shuts down Ninetales.

Cloyster comes in, and I take a moment to decide who to switch to with Ominous being wounded and without a type advantage. Given the level difference between my Pokémon and Gary's, I thought that fighting defensively would be the best option. I switch to Mycoboss, intending to use Mega Drain to outlast Cloyster. What I failed to realize was that Cloyster knows Aurora Beam, and is an Ice type to boot. Mycoboss is annihilated in a single hit. Having no choice, I send in BIG RAT, the only other Pokémon I have with a type advantage. A Thunderbolt makes a considerable dent in Cloyster's HP, but I would need two more to defeat it. I get in a second Thunderbolt and Cloyster just barely survives. Unfortunately, BIG RAT wasn't fully healed, and he fell to Cloyster's Aurora Beam. The only Pokémon I have left that's not weak to this move is Miles, so I send him in to finish the job.

Gary's penultimate Pokémon is Kadabra. I realize I need Mycoboss alive to take them down, though in hindsight I could have kept Miles in and used Body Slam to deal damage while resisting Kadabra's powerful Psychic moves. I use a Revive and send Mycoboss back in. I take a lot of damage from the Confusion, but Leech Life heals some of it back and deals a lot of damage in return. But the next move that hits Mycoboss is Psybeam, which is MUCH more powerful. Mycoboss just barely survives, with only 3 HP remaining to finish off Kadabra.

Finally, Jolteon comes in. They're Gary's highest level Pokémon, at level 40. I wasn't remotely worried, though. One thing that's been consistent throughout every Gary battle except for the first two is that my strongest Pokémon has an OVERWHELMING advantage over his starter. This puny Electric type can do nothing to me. I switch to Prinzessin. Jolteon misses their Pin Missile. Then misses it again. I say "lol see ya nerd" and one-shot them with Earthquake.

Getting the Master Ball

With Gary suffering another consecutive defeat against me, I speak to the Silph employee standing nearby and receive a Lapras. I named them Holy, because holy shit it's a Lapras. I return to the ninth floor of the Silph Building to heal, then proceed to the eleventh to crash Team Rocket's business meeting.

Jessie and James pathetically challenge me again only to get swept by one Prinzessin again. Then it's time for Giovanni to make his next appearance. He poses a bit more of a challenge this time, as he has a Nidoqueen of his own. Since Giovanni had sent out Rhyhorn just before though, I already had Ominous out ready to destroy her because she's still weak to Water. It seems Gary challenged me because he wanted to make sure I was ready to take on Giovanni, but he probably should have done it the other way around. Anyway, the Master Ball is now mine.

Wow, what a ride. That Gary fight was probably the best I've had so far, and it could have gone a lot worse. If I hadn't gotten lucky with move RNG, from what Gary's Pokémon used to hitting with reduced accuracy and landing a crit at a crucial moment, I would have been in for a much tougher fight. I just realized that Pin Missile is a Bug type move as well, which Prinzessin is actually weak to. If it managed to hit more than a couple of times, I might have been in trouble because Jolteon easily outspeeds Prinzessin.

One thing I've learned from this battle is that I need some way to deal with Ice moves. Most of my Pokémon are soft to Ice, and I have to expect that I'll run into that Cloyster again in my next showdown with Gary. Which means ideally, I'd have a Pokémon that resists Ice and can use moves that are super effective against Water. The best I had for resistance was Water types, but Vaporeon can't learn any Electric moves. I did some research and eventually realized that the Lapras I just got would be perfect for this.

Not only is Lapras Water/Ice type, which gives them maximum resistance to Ice moves, they also learn Ice moves of their own, and they're capable of learning Thunderbolt via TM. As if that wasn't enough, Lapras has excellent stats and makes for an extremely potent Special attacker. And here I'm stuck with a Vaporeon because I didn't think I would be getting a much better user of Ice moves pretty much immediately.

Training up Lapras is therefore one of my top priorities. I don't think there will be much that's able to stand in my way once that's accomplished. I'm already set to demolish all of the gyms going forward, which just leaves the Pokémon League. I don't know what's in store for me there, but as much as possible, I'd like to be prepared. Once I've beaten most of the gyms, I'll make sure my team is ready for anything.

[yuujispinkhair]

They kiss on the ring. I carry the crown (Chapter 3)

You should probably be glad that you got away from Yakuza boss Sukuna, but somehow it doesn't feel that way. Instead, you are left wondering if you really dodged a bullet or if maybe you lost the love of your life.

Chapter 1 ++ Chapter 2 ++ Masterpost

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Mafia AU, smut, fluff Playlist: Mafia AU The songs for this chapter: I don’t wanna live forever by Zayn & Taylor Swift ++ Curse by Dxvn ++ Let me love you by Ariana Grande Word Count: 5k Warnings: 18+, smut, light angst, mention of Yakuza-related violence (amputated fingers, illegal business. Implied murder in later chapters), occasional use of the name Daddy throughout the story, biting/scratching, creampie. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

You didn't talk to Sukuna for weeks.

It was one of the hardest things ever. He still called you in your office every other day, just like in the beginning. And you sat there, digging your fingernails into your desk to keep yourself from taking the call. The temptation to hear his sexy voice again was so big. The longing you felt was excruciating.

You wanted to answer his calls. But you told yourself you shouldn't.

Your boss asked you if you planned to show any new objects to Sukuna. And you just tried your best fake smile and told him that Mr. Itadori didn't want to buy at the moment.

At least Sukuna didn't force you to speak to him by calling your boss directly or something like that. He also didn't text you. And after two weeks, the phone calls stopped too.

You knew you should be relieved that this temptation was gone now, at least. But the truth was that you still waited for another call every day. Your nerve ends were on high alert all the time. It was pathetic the way you jumped when your phone actually started ringing. Only to slump down in your chair with a disappointed groan when you saw that it wasn't Sukuna's number.

You assumed that he stopped calling you out of respect. Or maybe he just didn't care, and the phone calls to your office had just been business calls after all?

But if he didn't care, he wouldn't have sent you flowers, or would he?

In the first week after your breakup, you were surprised to see the ginger-haired young woman waiting for you in front of your door again. On the first day, she held out another beautiful bouquet of red roses to you with an almost rude smirk on her pretty face. The smirk got replaced by a frown when you declined the flowers.

"Um... ok. But there's also a letter. You want that at least?"

"No, thanks. Sorry that you had to come here in vain."

She had been back the following evening, and you had refused the flowers and the letter again. The same thing happened on the third day.

"He really fucked up, huh?"

"No... it's...it's just... It's complicated."

You can't say what made you say the next words. Maybe you wanted to get another reason to tell yourself Sukuna was bad for you. Whatever it was, you felt the need to add:

"You probably have to deliver flowers and letters and other fancy gifts to a lot of women for him."

"Look, I don't want to gossip about Sukuna. But I'll tell you this much: he never had me deliver something to any other woman before. You're the only one."

You lay awake almost the whole night, plagued by Nobara's words and the memories of your time with Sukuna. And even worse, by the what-ifs.

Maybe you should have read the letters he attached to the flowers. What if he had something important to say? Something that would make everything ok again.

How did Sukuna feel about this? About you? Did he miss you as much as you missed him?

What had there been between the two of you? You had been dating. You had been lovers. But you had no idea how to define what kind of relationship the two of you had. You never talked about it.

Neither of you had said the famous three words. And now you would never find out what exactly it had been between you.

What if he told you how he felt in one of those letters?

But what would it change? He was still the Yakuza boss, and you didn't belong in his world. Or you shouldn't want to belong in it.

It always came down to that.

But that didn't mean that he wasn't on your mind constantly. On the contrary, Sukuna haunted your waking thoughts just as much as your dreams, in which you were still at the beach house, and you heard his laugh and saw his pretty smile and felt his strong arms hold you tightly.

You had a lot of time to think about things. To obsess over them. And you had to admit that you had no excuse. You couldn't blame it on naivety.

You had known it all along. You had known who Sukuna was, what he was, what a man like him did. And yet you had chosen him, had wanted him, had consumed him like a drug you couldn't get enough off.

This one was on you. You had decided to play with fire, and now you didn't get to complain that you'd gotten burned.

Sukuna had come into your life like a tsunami and pulled you into the darkest waters. But you had liked it there in his dark kingdom, by his side.

You liked his arrogant smirk and the condescending things he said. You liked the way he just grabbed you and pulled you on his lap as if you were his property. The way he fucked you like no other ever had, so rough, so dominant, with so much confidence. You liked his possessiveness, his passion, and the power he held.

And you liked that other side of him too. You liked that this dangerous man looked at you with such an affectionate look in his eyes. That he smiled at you, with a genuine smile that made him look so beautiful that it took your breath away. That he could not just fuck your brains out with hard brutal thrusts but also knew how to make sweet love to you, moving slowly on top of you while he kissed you tenderly and stroked your hair.

In those moments, it had felt like love. Maybe it had been.

But now it was over, and you didn't know what to do to forget about it. How could you go back to being the old you? The person you had been before Sukuna? It felt impossible.

Sukuna had left his marks on your body when you were still together. Those traces of his claim on you had long faded. But during those lonely weeks after the breakup, you realized that he had also left another mark on you. An invisible one. On your heart.

He had made you his, and now you didn't know how not to be that anymore.

Three weeks, six days, and 3 hours.

The thought crossed your mind when you locked your office that evening. That was how long it had been since the last time you had seen Sukuna.

You were irritated by the fact that you were even counting the hours. It was pathetic. Pathetic that you still secretly hoped he would call again or send more flowers, more letters you wouldn't read. Or maybe now you would read them.

You tried hard to stay busy to stop yourself from thinking about him constantly. But once you got home, it was the same every evening: you broke down crying because all you wanted was to hear that velvety deep voice, warm as a caress, asking you about your day. You wanted to feel strong arms wrap around you, lift you, and carry you to bed.

You left your office trying to come up with something that would distract you until it was time to fall into a restless sleep.

It started raining the moment you stepped out of the building, and of course, you didn't even have an umbrella with you. You sighed, zipped up your jacket all the way up to your chin, and started your walk home.

But you had only walked a short distance when you noticed a car driving suspiciously slow next to you. When you turned your head, you saw a black S-Class with black-tinted windows.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You knew this car.

Before you could come up with what to do, the window in the back rolled down, and your gaze fell on familiar slicked-back pink hair.

You stumbled over your own feet and struggled to stay upright. Your heart was pounding so fast that you felt dizzy from it. What was Sukuna doing here?

What do I do now?

You stopped walking and turned slowly towards the car, glaring at the window, which was now almost completely open and revealed Sukuna's glinting maroon eyes and that infuriating lazy smirk on his face. The face which was far too pretty for a Yakuza boss.

"Need a ride? The rain is really heavy."

"Are you following me? Do you have nothing better to do?"

Looking back at it now, you laugh about yourself. The nerve you had!

You had been crying about this man every night for almost four weeks, being so lovesick and yearning so much for him, but there you were, acting annoyed to see him. Luckily Sukuna wasn't the type of man who got discouraged by hostility.

He just raised an eyebrow and laughed softly.

"Ooooh, someone's pissed. Long day? Come on, hop in. I'm on my way back from a meeting. Saw you and felt bad about just driving past you in this weather."

He opened the door wide, not waiting for your answer but just slid over to the other side of the backseat, making room for you and waiting for you while watching you with an unreadable expression.

His poker face.

The funny thing was that this was what gave him away. He usually didn't wear that expression when he was alone with you. The fact that he felt the need to put it on now let you know he wasn't as unaffected as he acted.

Maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was the yearning in your heart. Maybe it was the way Sukuna looked at you. You can't really say what it was. But you got into his car.

The moment the door closed behind you, it felt like you were in another world again. The loud city noises and the rushing of the downpour were drowned out effectively by the luxurious car.

The only sounds you heard were a slow song playing softly on the car audio and the rustling of your clothes as you tried to slip out of your soaking wet jacket.

You almost jumped when strong hands landed on your arms, and Sukuna helped you take off the coat.

You tried to calm your breathing, but his hands felt so reassuring. You had missed their touch so much. The strength and the confidence with which Sukuna always held you.

You knew at that moment that it had been a mistake to get into his car. You were bound to do something stupid when he was so close to you. He still had all this power over you.

Your gaze flickered to the car door. For a split second, you wanted to bolt out of the vehicle and run. But right in that moment, the driver started to drive again, and Sukuna's deep sexy voice interrupted your reeling thoughts.

"(y/n), look at me."

You gulped but turned your head slowly. Sukuna was leaning against the car door on his side, looking so good in his black suit and black shirt with the dark red tie that it should be illegal. But, on the other hand, it already was, right? Everything about this man was illegal. A desperate-sounding laugh escaped your lips.

"What do you want, Sukuna?"

He let his head fall back against the window, watching you with an intense look in his pretty eyes.

"I want to apologize."

In your countless daydreams, you had heard those words so many times. You had imagined several different scenarios, some with a happy ending, some with you storming off. But now that he said those words, all you could do was stare at him dumbfoundedly. But Sukuna continued unfazed:

"The whole thing with Todo and Toge. The setup. I shouldn't have done that. It's what I usually do, but in this case, when you were involved, it wasn't right. And the fingers... I understand why that freaked you out, and your reaction was only understandable. I didn't want you to see that, and I regret it deeply. I tried to keep you away from these aspects of my world. I'm sorry. I never wanted you to get hurt."

Your heart was fluttering in your chest nervously. Sukuna's voice was so gentle, his words so carefully placed. You knew that he had thought about this a lot. He cared. He actually cared.

"Thank you.."

But he wasn't finished yet.

"I treated you like a thing I own, and that wasn't right. You are much more than that. And I apologize for that too. I wanted to do this sooner, but you never answered my calls. And you sent all the flowers I had delivered to you back."

"You know there is this neat thing called text messages, too. Or voice messages."

"That's not something you say via text message or something like that. I am old-fashioned when it comes to that."

The smirk was back on his face, and the amusement evident in his smooth deep voice. And you couldn't help but mirror him, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips.

"Yes, you are."

"Here. Take this, please."

He held out an envelope to you.

"What is that?"

"A transfer of ownership for the penthouse you showed me on the day we met."

Your eyes widened.

"What?"

"I want it to be yours. It's the least I can do."

"The penthouse? Are you crazy?"

"For you? Maybe."

He shrugged and laughed softly. Always the flirt. Always so smug. And he still drove you crazy with it. He still made your heart race. He still made you want to have him on top of you and grind you down until you couldn't remember your own name anymore. It was infuriating that he had such an effect on you!

"Are you trying to buy me?"

Another laugh escaped his mouth.

"No. It comes with no strings attached. You can take the apartment and leave this car anytime you like, and you never have to see me again, if that's what you want. See it as part of my apology."

"I... Sukuna... I don't want the penthouse."

"I promise you, there isn't anything shady going on."

"No, that's not it... I... I just don't want it. I would never take such a gift. You don't have to give me anything."

"Then tell me what else I can do."

The playfulness was gone from his tone. Instead, he sounded remorseful. He didn't have to say it out loud. You could hear the unspoken promise. I will do anything.

"You don't have to do anything. I accept your apology. If you accept mine too."

"You don't have to apologize for anything, darling. You lived a normal life as a real-estate agent before you met me, and then one unfortunate day, you opened a box of amputated fingers. I think your reaction was justified. Don't apologize for that. It's natural that you were upset and that you left."

There was an almost melancholic look in his eyes. Seeing it made your heart clench painfully. You didn't like the direction this was going.

It sounded like a goodbye. Like he thought you wouldn't want to see him again.

Suddenly you couldn't keep the calm facade anymore. All the weeks of missing him, all the sleepless nights, lying awake and crying over him, it all came crashing over you in that moment. Your sight was getting blurry from tears gathering in your eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Kuna.."

You hated how small your voice sounded, but Sukuna's reaction was immediate. He pushed himself off the car door and scooted closer to you. A warm hand cupped your cheek tenderly as he mustered you with worried eyes.

"What's wrong, darling?"

And you leaned into his touch, let out a shaky breath, and closed your eyes for a moment to bask in the gentle reassurance his strong hand offered.

You knew that you were probably all kinds of crazy, but you wanted to stay like this forever. You had missed the touch of his hand. And you wanted it back.

You wanted back his strong arms that made you feel so safe, his smirk that made your heart flutter, his voice that was warm like honey.

You wanted to see him smile again, just for you, wanted to see that special look in his eyes when you caught him looking at you.

You wanted to have those stupid conversations with him again, where he teased you and made you flustered. You wanted to hear him laugh again, sounding so carefree and happy.

You wanted back what you used to have with him. It didn't matter what came with it. You could deal with it. You could accept all of that, his dark side, too, if you could just have him back.

You wanted Sukuna.

"I don't want to leave."

Your voice sounded too choked up, but you couldn't even feel embarrassed about it.

A single tear was slipping out of the corner of your right eye. But it was caught by Sukuna's thumb, and he wiped it gently away. He was looking deeply into your eyes,

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then come back to me."

There was a moment of silence where you just looked into each other's eyes.

And then both of you moved forward at the same time. Sukuna's strong hand cupped the back of your head to pull you to him just as your hands reached out to grab the collar of his shirt.

And then his lips were on yours again.

You sobbed as your mouth opened against his, overwhelmed by the feeling of his soft lips on yours after all the weeks of longing for him. All those weeks without him. All the pain. All the heartache.

And now it felt like you could finally breathe again.

The kiss was messy, urgent. Both of you were so eager to ravage the other, lips opening needily, teeth clashing, tongues licking at each other hungrily.

You made a desperate sound, a high-pitched whine followed by a moan. And suddenly, Sukuna's hands were on your waist, pulling you onto his lap.

You straddled him all too happily, wrapped your hands around his neck, and pressed your body flush against his, moaning when you felt his firm chest press against your breasts. You were sure you would die if you didn't get to feel his soft lips on yours again.

Sukuna's hands were on your body, your waist, your back, in your hair, and the all too familiar heat was already pooling in your stomach again. It was scary how much you craved him.

And then his lips pressed against yours again for another heated kiss. Finally, you got a taste of your favorite drug again, and you felt him rush through your veins, warming your chest, making your heart race, sending throbbing desire down to your core.

He pulled away with that sexy tongue-flick again, but his hands remained firmly on your waist, holding you securely in place on his lap. There was no doubt about it: You were still his, and you belonged right here on his lap.

His pupils were almost black when he looked at you.

"I missed you, baby."

His voice sounded rough, breathless, impatient. It sounded as if he was a man who had just gotten handed his favorite meal on a silver platter and was now ready to devour all of it.

For the first time in almost four weeks, you smiled again. And that smile stayed on your lips even as Sukuna's mouth did its best to kiss it off you.

You can't remember much of the drive after that. All you remember is that your heart was beating too fast, and your head was spinning.

And, of course, Sukuna. Sukuna all over you.

Sukuna's lips on yours. Sukuna's warm hands slipping under your shirt. Sukuna's soft hair between your fingers. Sukuna's deliciously big bulge pressing against you through your clothes. Sukuna's intoxicating scent, his expensive cologne, his hair wax, just him. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna.

You went back with him to his penthouse. You stumbled into the elevator, moaning when he was on you immediately, pushing you against the wall, and kissing you again.

And you didn't tell him to stop. You didn't turn around and run as you had done four weeks ago. Instead, you pressed your body against him, whimpering into his kiss, hands clutching his shirt-collar desperately, making sure that he would stay right here, holding you, kissing you, making you his again.

And that's what he did that night. He made you his again.

He made you his again when he kissed you in the elevator until you were drunk on his lips. He made you his again when he made you moan his name into his mouth. He made you his again when his hands were tearing at your clothes impatiently. He made you his again when he lifted you up into his strong arms, pressing you against his muscular body as he carried you to his bedroom. He made you his again when he fucked you until you were screaming his name.

But he also became yours again. You could tell by the way he growled when he lay you down on his bed, his gaze drinking in your body hungrily. Or when his gorgeous cock twitched so beautifully for you when you pulled down his black boxer briefs. A pearly bead of pre-cum already waiting for you like a crown on his swollen tip.

You could tell he was yours when you heard his sexy breathless "fuck" when your hand finally wrapped around his straining cock again, stroking him until he pushed your hand away so he could ram his hard length into you with an almost brutal shove, claiming you again.

You were both caught in a frenzied rush, bodies meeting in passionate, desperate lovemaking.

He fucked you hard into his bed, pounding you so good that your fingernails left scratches on his muscular back.

You arched up against him needily, tugging on his pink hair as he groaned loudly against your neck, telling you how much he had missed you and your sweet pussy.

You whimpered his name when you clenched around his cock, and your cream was gushing over him. And he bit your neck and moaned something that sounded like "Ah, yes, just like that, my love!" when he filled your pussy with his thick ropes of cum.

And you knew you were home again. Because that's what it felt like when you were wrapped in Sukuna's arms, feeling his soft breath on your neck, the warmth of his firm body behind you, the familiar scent of the expensive pillow scent his housekeeper used on the luxurious silk bedding. Your hand caressed his forearm, which was holding you so safely.

You knew you were right where you belonged: In Sukuna's arms. It didn't matter that those arms belonged to the King of Tokyo's underworld. They felt perfect around you.

It was later that evening, when your head was resting on Sukuna's toned chest, fingers caressing his taut abs lazily, tracing the black tattoos running down his gorgeous body when the words tumbled out of your mouth:

"I'm sorry too."

His hand tightened in your hair, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"What for, princess?"

"For ignoring the darker parts of your world. I wanted to just see the weekend at the beach and pretend it would always be like that. I closed my eyes to the rest, and that wasn't ok. I shouldn't have freaked out so much when I saw the box in your office. I knew what I was getting myself into."

"No, darling, don't apologize for that."

You lifted your face off his chest to look up at his handsome face.

"I won't close my eyes anymore. I'll accept everything that comes with dating you."

A slight grin was spreading over his face. He cupped your chin, tilted up your face, and let his gaze wander over you scrutinizingly.

You couldn't stop your breath from quickening. Sukuna always made you feel like you were a fragile little animal caught in a huntsman's grip, completely at his mercy. He could decide what he wanted to do with you. Set you free again, kill you, or take you home to keep as his little pet.

You couldn't lie, though. This was part of his appeal. One of the things that had drawn you to him. The power he exuded. The danger that always seemed to lurk behind his handsome smirk and the cocky attitude.

Your heart fluttered in your chest. Sukuna was all that. He was powerful. He was dangerous. He was head of one of the most influential Yakuza clans. He was the most powerful man you ever met.

And yet he was here lying beneath you, holding you so gently. This man had moaned your name. You had seen his pretty eyes roll back when he was about to cum inside you. You had felt him tremble under your touch.

Didn't you have some power over him too? And wasn't that the sexiest thing ever? Being in the King's bed and knowing that he wouldn't hurt you? Knowing that he craved you too?

It excited you. It made you wet. But it also made your heart feel so full. Sukuna seemed to have a soft spot for you. For his princess.

His voice was smooth and sexy when he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip.

"You're really fascinating, sweetheart. You never stop surprising me. Truly deserve your place by my side."

"You didn't tell Todo and Toge to cut off their fingers, right?"

"No, I didn't. It was their idea."

"I believe you. And even if you did order them to do it...I understand that there are certain rules and certain things you have to do. Or your people do for you. It's ok. I can deal with it. You're my man, and I trust you."

He smiled, maroon eyes sparkling, and then he leaned down to capture your lips again in another passionate kiss.

It didn't take long until he flipped you over, rolling on top of you, covering you with his strong body. And you moaned into his mouth as you wrapped your legs around his hips and arched up against his muscular body, trembling when he pushed his thick cock into you and fucked you with hard powerful thrusts.

His lips found your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin hungrily, leaving his marks on you again, just like in the past. His mouth opened around your throat, moaning against your skin.

"Say it again."

And you knew what he wanted to hear.

"You're my man. Oh...oh Kuna...Kuna..."

You squirmed under him, cumming so hard on his gorgeous cock that you took him with you, making him groan against your neck as he pumped another load of his seed into you.

"You were waiting in front of my office, right? It wasn't a chance meeting."

Sukuna just laughed and shrugged, looking so proud of himself,

"Already told you that I plan everything."

He was far too smug. But you were glad that he had decided to take matters into his hands. Because if he hadn't made his driver wait for you to come out of work that evening, maybe you would have never seen him again. And never gotten a second chance with the man who had stolen your heart.

Only a short time later, he rolled you onto your back for the third time that night and fucked you again. Your pussy was already overflowing with his cum, but he didn't care and just fucked more of it into you, making his former load seep out around his cock, dripping down onto his luxurious silk sheets.

Both of you were insatiable after those long weeks apart.

You never wanted to leave Sukuna's bed again. Never wanted to leave his side again. You belonged here, right here by his side, or on his lap, or under him, in his strong arms, on his gorgeous cock.

It didn't matter who he was or what he was. He was your man. That was all that mattered.

You didn't want to find a nice guy who had a safe but boring job, and the only illegal thing he ever was involved in was accidental tax fraud. No, you didn't want that.

You wanted Sukuna. You wanted the King of Tokyo's underworld.

You couldn't imagine ever wanting anyone else again because you weren't the same anymore. Nothing was the same anymore.

How could it be after meeting Sukuna? He had turned your world upside down. He had swept you off your feet and pulled you into his fascinating glittering world of dark temptation. How could anyone that came after him ever live up to that?

This night will permanently be engraved in your memory. The sheer relief you felt upon being with Sukuna again. The intoxicating rush of feeling him all over you again. The ecstasy of feeling his calloused fingers, his soft lips, his throbbing hard cock. The warmth that was spreading through your chest when he looked deeply into your eyes, large hand cupping your chin, tilting your face up to him, sealing your lips with his, kissing you so tenderly after fucking you hard.

Lying in his arms for hours afterwards, wrapped in his warm embrace, feeling so safe with his muscular body pressed against your back.

His low velvety voice made you press your thighs together desperately as he told you about his day and asked you about yours, just like it had been before you discovered that box in his office.

He was still the same insufferable, arrogant guy, but it was part of his charm, and you couldn't help but find it attractive. Even endearing if you were honest. Especially when his rude comments were combined with that boyish smirk that was so sexy that it made you bite your lip every single time.

"I need to know: Are you going to become a maniac anytime some other guy looks at me? Because that will be pretty exhausting."

He threw his head back and laughed.

"Baby, you misunderstood that. This was about respect. They are part of the family. I can't have them disrespect me by talking about my woman. So, I promise you I won't freak out when some random guy checks you out. I'm not jealous."

You raised your eyebrows, fixing him with a doubtful look in your eyes.

"You're not the jealous type? Seriously, Kuna?"

He shrugged, and that smug smirk was on his face again.

"I have no reason to be jealous. I'm the best you can ever get. Why would you want anyone else? They are nothing compared to me. You know darling, it's like this: They kiss on the ring. I carry the crown. That's the difference. You know what I would tell you if you decided to leave me for some other guy?"

He looked at you like a tiger on the prowl. It made the fine hairs on your arms stand up. You licked your lips and waited for him to continue.

"I would say: Ok, go. Pick that little boy over me and see how happy he'll make you. You'll come crawling back in a week and beg me to take you back. Beg me for my dick and my money and power. I have no competition. There's only me. Or do you have any objection?"

His voice had turned into a purr, and you had gravitated towards him without even realizing it, your face only inches from his, already straddling his lap again, feeling his growing bulge rub against your slick folds. Both of you already poised for the next fuck.

You leaned down to breathe against his lips,

"You're so arrogant."

And his strong hands cupped your ass and pressed you down on his lap as his tongue flicked out and licked over your parted lips before he said in that smug tone:

"And you like it."

You knew he was right. Of course, he was.

Thank you so much for reading! I promised you that there would be fluff again, and I hope you enjoyed their reunion as much as I did! This story is getting longer and longer, but I can't stop writing. I blame Daddy Kuna for it lol! Does he drive you crazy too? Please tell me what you think about the chapter and about Sukuna! I'm always very happy about comments and reblogs!! I plan to publish chapter 4 next week.

Here is chapter 4

[astaroth1357]

Brothers Accidentally Make the MC Cry

Hello, this is the obligatory italics blurb that I have to put under my titles or else things look weird and it bothers me. Don’t mind the blurb. The blurb is a friend. (Though I could start writing pieces of a little story up here just to see if anyone even reads them… Hm…. Ideas, ideas...)

Warning: Angsty

Lucifer 

If he were being honest, he’d say that a part of him had always feared this would happen...

Lucifer likes to tell himself that he’s invincible, but everyday stresses can get to him just like anybody else. And like other people, he may not always act his best when he’s dealing with a full plate…

The MC hadn’t meant to make his day harder when they told him that they accidentally broke a lamp. It was a genuine accident! But Lucifer was still dealing with the fallout from another one of Mammon’s failed schemes, Satan had cursed all of his ties again, and Beel had eaten every scrap of food in the House… for the second time that week...

In comparison to everything else, a broken lamp was quite minor, but for Lucifer it was just the last straw and, for just a moment, he lost control…

His palm slamming against his desk hard enough to snap its legs and send it crashing to the ground. He scarcely knew what kind of look he had on his face, but whatever it was, he had made his human jump back in shock...

Really, it was silly for them to assume that he had gotten that upset over a lamp, but he saw tears starting to gather in their eyes all the same as they stammered out a quiet apology… 

It felt like an ice spike to the heart. Damn his temper… He really ought to have been more careful with them after… well, everything he’d done before…

He was quick to go over to them, catching their face with his hand and giving them the most sincere apology he could muster while wiping away their tears… Overreactions aren’t becoming of him and he hated to cause them pain… 

He, of course, took care of the lamp himself as penance and on the surface that seemed to be it (but to anyone paying attention, he had softened up on the MC considerably for at least a week. They probably could have sworn in front of Diavolo and he’d let it slide, he felt that bad about it...)

“I’m sorry, MC, I shouldn't have reacted like that… You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise… Please, there’s no need to cry…”

Mammon

Oh? What's that? His heart is now in a million pieces now...? Well, that seems fair…

He and the MC were out on one of his gambling nights and he was actually on a killer winning streak for once! Jackpots around every corner, he was rolling in it!

The MC had tried to convince him to just throw in the towel early, take his winnings while he had them and bail, but he wasn’t hearing any of it.

In hindsight, their insistence must have really shown how much the MC cared about him and wanted him to keep his earnings... but in the heat of the moment all he saw was someone trying to spoil his one night of fun.

To be fair to Mammon, it’s rather rare for him to lose control of his anger like he did. But when they tried to pull him away from the roulette table, he genuinely snarled at them and told them to get lost...!

Fortunately, he regretted his actions immediately after he saw the hurt in their eyes…

If their goal had been to get him to step away from the table, they achieved it. But only because he got up to pull them into a hug while stammering out apologies… Watching them actually shed tears hurt worse than any rope Lucifer had ever tied around him...

He spent the rest of the night away from the casino and trying to cheer up his human like his life depended on it... Seeing them in pain just tore him up that much.

"Ah, come on MC… I'm sorry, honest…! Please don't look at me like that, I'll do whatever ya want okay...? Just no more cryin…"

Leviathan 

Now thinks he's the worst, literally the worst. Lower than lesser demon spit. Lower than Cerberus' shit. Lower than… well, you get the idea…

Levi can get very… intense when things involving his passions are brought up. This can be a fairly endearing quality… but it also means he gets disproportionately impassioned about seemingly minor things.

Levi ended up snapping at the MC when they let him over-sleep one day. This wasn’t unusual for them to do as Levi’s sleep schedule was notoriously shitty, but they shouldn't have done it that particular day…

An item he wanted on Akuzon was going to go live that morning and he had to be awake to participate in the bidding. He had mentioned it to the MC the day before, but he blew past it so quickly they didn’t actually remember…

He found out that he missed the bidding after he woke up and he was pissed. Genuinely enraged that they didn’t remember to wake him up to the point that he was shouting and baring his fangs! 

… Really it was not a good look and he should have known better.

The look of fear and the tears gathering in the MC’s eyes snapped him out of it like a hard slap to the face, and somehow, it stung even more than that would’ve... It wasn’t long before he was crying along with them, practically begging for forgiveness...

He made it up to them by having a private showing of their favorite movie using a projector in the Planetarium, cuddling with them under a blanket while still, occasionally, muttering apologies under his breath.

“M-MC…? MC don’t cry…!! Please don’t cry, I- I’m sorry!! I… MC… I’m so sorry…”

Satan

Like Lucifer, he always worried this would happen and he hated when it finally came to pass…

He’d spent all his life learning how to restrain his temper, but it’s not a perfect science. There are the occasional times where the heat of the moment gets the better of him and he does something he regrets…

The MC had walked in on him one morning while he was fuming about Beel leaving the fridge empty again. It hadn’t been the first time they’d seen him like this, but this time he was absolutely furious.

He had told Beel again and again and again to get his snacking under control or to, you know, get up early and get more food so the whole family wouldn’t spend the morning starving but noooo! Mr. I’m Hungry never thinks about anything but his own stomach and then leaves whoever’s on kitchen duty to pick up the slack like some dimwitted muscle-bound meathead and THEN-!!

When the MC tried to take his arm to calm him down, he jerked their hand away from him and roared right in their face. He may not be a lion, but the full sound of a pissed off demon could make humans have breakdowns all on its own…

Which was more or less what the MC began to do as he gripped their wrist, panicking while taking shallow, stuttered breaths…

Satan's anger left him swiftly and he let them go, only reaching out to touch them again when he tried to wipe the tears from their cheeks… He had to coo and beg for them to calm down, which was only so successful because he was fighting back tears himself… 

On a scale of 1-10 of the worse things his temper has ever done, he'd rank this a firm 200... He refused to touch them for about a week afterwards and it took a long time for him to trust himself again… He just didn't want to hurt them...

"MC?? MC…? M… Oh no… MC, I'm so sorry, I would never hurt you! I… I wouldn't dare… please believe me..."

Asmodeus 

Oh baby! Sweetheart! Love of his life!! No, please no… don't subject him to this…

MC and Asmo were out dancing and some witch came by to try and flatter him.

Now, Asmo is a flirt normally, but get a few drinks in him and well… Let's just say his love of attention overrides his better judgment far more often than it should and friends don't let friends go home with creepy witches.

When the MC told the witch to scram, Asmo was confused and, frankly, quite irritated. That lovely lady had been stroking his ego in all the right ways and his human just scared her off so rudely!

Under most situations, Asmo would have kept his cool better but the haze of Demonus made his tongue loose... which let the venom fly…

He couldn’t quite remember what he said. The words left his mouth so quickly that they slurred together on his clumsy tongue, but it must have been enough because the MC flinched away from him.

That hurt all on its own, but as he started to process the pain in their eyes… he had never sobered up so fast...

He had their cheeks cupped in his hands and were kissing away their tears within the instant. Though the loud music at the club should have drowned out his apologies, the MC could see it written all over his equally tearful face…

He pulled them into his arms and then out of the club shortly after, the fog of Demonus that plagued him just moments before had long left him and all he knew was that the MC needed to be brought home and cuddled… stat.

“M-MC…? I’m sorry was it something… did I…? I’m so sorry… Please don’t cry…!”

Beelzebub 

He really didn't mean to shout so loud… honest... 

Beel becomes a completely different person when he’s hungry. He’s not entirely to blame, as his hunger can get so intense, but he still can snap from time to time when he really doesn’t mean to…

It was right after one of his practices and Beel hadn’t gotten a chance to eat in a few hours by the time the MC came to grab him from RAD. That already had him in a bad mood, but practice hadn’t gone too well for him either… 

He honestly didn’t realize how sharply he snapped at the MC when they asked him how he was. The irritation and frustration of the day all hit him at once and he became much harsher towards them than he ever intended…

It must have been the shock of seeing ever-sweet Beel suddenly get so aggressive with them that startled them so. He saw a couple tears gathering in their eyes before they could hide them and his heart just sank…

The MC was picked up in a crushing bear hug before they even let out their first sniffle. Beel didn’t even have to say how sorry he was, they could feel it in every squeeze he gave them. All while he completely ignored the growling of his stomach...

Beel wouldn’t let them go until he was certain they’d forgiven him which, honestly, took a while. Mammon was the one to ask why he had carried them all the way back to the House like a baby but… well, he didn’t need to know, now did he?

“MC, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have shouted… Are you alright...?”

Belphegor 

Stubborn boi is stubborn and trying really, really hard not to crack right now...

That's not going to last long.

Belphie can be a bit of a brat and since he's the baby of the family so he's used to getting his way. He and the MC don't argue a ton, but when they do, he always digs his heels in and refuses to budge an inch on anything.

So what started out as a simple disagreement on how often Belphie would flake out on his chores turned into a kick-the-door-down argument over how much his laziness left the MC to pick up the slack...

It ended as all their barn burning arguments do, with demon-form Belphie sitting cross-legged on his bed refusing to look at them and the MC angrily pacing about the room until he cools off…

And then he heard it.

First a sniffle… and then a hiccup. Another sniffle then muffled whine…

Oh no… not this… Why are they crying…? They don't normally cry…

To his credit (or perhaps discredit), he managed to hold out for about two minutes before he finally glanced back at them. Seeing the MC wiping their tears all alone on the floor crumbled his resolve real quick.

The MC found themselves enveloped by Belphie's arms before they even noticed he got up. Naturally, he was pouting and trying to make it seem like "not a big deal or anything" but they could tell by the nervous twitch of his tail that he was hurting too…

Needless to say. Belphie started remembering his chores a lot more after that.

"Humans are so fragile… I didn't mean to make you cry, you know? I'll get things done just… Don't cry… please…"

[yr-obedt-cicero]

Pretty much just a ‘what-if’ scenario, but what if one of the other Hamilton children had died sometime after Philip? For an example, let’s just say James (F in the chat, we’d never have gotten that petty rivalry :///) died of yellow fever— how would that have changed the course of events for the family, both individually for each living member and in general?

TL;DR: Kind of a random ask ngl,, but I know that A. Hamilton and the rest of the family had been devastated when Philip died, so what would have happened if one of the other children had died not too long after him?

They actually almost lost Phil II to a miscarry because Elizabeth was still too depressed from Philip's death;

“In a letter from Mrs. Church of tuesday last she mentions that my dear Eliza had been very much indisposed, but was better. as no mention is made of the disorder with which she has been afflicted, we apprehend that she has miscarryed, we are extremely anxious for further Accounts and pray they may be such as shall do away our apprehensions.”

(source — To Alexander Hamilton from Philip Schuyler, [March 28, 1802])

And while this would have been heart-rending, and surely a great loss — I'm sure the family would have suffered worse if a kid, who was actually born, had died. The blow would have undeniably been severe, the family meant more than anything to each other, and with sorrow already plaguing them; to lose another kid likely would have been the last keg.

Depending on the time, if another kid had died; Elizabeth likely would have had actually miscarried, but if this was after Phil's birth then she would have likely gone down a spiral and could barely take care of the children. And a nanny or Angelica Church would have had to care for Phil because Elizabeth would have been too indisposed. And I imagine Hamilton would been in one of the worst phases of his mental well-being, likely becoming severely depressed, and too agitated to actually even involve himself in politics at all. I also doubt they would ever gather up the energy or funds to finish the Grange with their spirits so low, and the idea would likely be scrapped and they would move into a townhouse once more.

This could lead to a butterfly affect and say that because Hamilton lacked the charisma to get back into politics, he likely would have never made the last straw with Burr, and there possibly would have never been a duel. But I'm also sure Elizabeth or Hamilton would have passed due to depression, wether from the lack of caring for themselves and catching ill, or just suicide. Some could also theorize that because of all the misery, Hamilton would become too snappish and likely would go out searching for confrontation considering his mood swings.

[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Limp Noodle ~ S.H.

A/n: I have never once been good at making choices so I’ll be doing both OOF! This request is dirt old but whatever. I’m actually writing requests now look at me go!

Request: “...prompt 20 or 21 Steve Harrington x clumsy male reader” by anon

#20 (here): “I can’t do this without you”

#21: “Guess who broke their nose! Me. It’s me. I broke my nose.”

Word Count: 2000+

MASTERLIST

“Are you SURE that this is a good idea?” The words came from Y/n as Steve parked the car, waving through the windshield window at Jonatan, Nancy, Robin and a new friend, Bianca. They’d all decided on a triple date and like idiots they’d let Steve, Bianca, and Nancy decide so they were now all headed on a hike. Robin was the least athletic of all of them and hated exercise of any kind. Jonathan was the one in the group who hated being outside in the sun and much preferred being inside cuddled on the could other swaddled in bed. Y/n... well Y/n was the single most clumsy person you’ve ever met.

Now, take whatever image that popped in your head when I said that and then make it ten times worse. Then take THAT mental image and multiply by it by ten AGAIN. Y/n was worse. He was absolutely sure he was going to thrip and fall over the side of some steep hill and fully die. He would be lucky to make it out of this trip without a stick going through his eye. Y/n and the outdoors didn’t mix. They never had. He could barely walk, let alone when it was uphill and outside and humid and hard to breathe and everyone was so beautiful and distracting.

Steve didn’t agree with that analysis.

“This is a great idea actually,” Steve decided with complete confidence. “Don’t worry about it okay? You’ll be fine.”

“Incorrect,” Y/n Aries immediately. “We started dating because I tripped seven times and you caught me every single one. I tripped seven times in three days Steve - and that was just the, what, one hour a day you’re with me? In THREE HOURS I TRIPPED SEVEN TIMES!” He was whisper yelling, getting rather heated. “I’m going to knock my head into a tree and bleed out.”

Steve laughed. He reached over, taking his boyfriend’s hands. “Do you trust me?”

Y/n’s shoulders sagged. “That is a cheap trick, Harrington.”

In response Steve only raised his eyebrows. When Y/n refused to answer, Steve sighed. “Y/n. Do you trust me?”

Closing his eyes a second, Y/n held in a sigh. When he opened them again, he managed a small smile. “Yeah. I trust you.” Steve went to get out of the car and Y/n caught his wrist. “Just promise you’re going to stay with me okay? I can’t do this without you. I’m serious.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Come on Drama King.” They both got out and made their way over to the other four.

“Hey guys!” Nancy greeted warmly. She had calmed a lot since Y/n had first met her. Darkened. But she was still pleasant enough, and Y/n tolerated her for Steve. He didn’t know why they were all friends after Nancy’s brutal ripping up Steve’s heart but... he expected it was that trauma bonding things that Steve and Robin refused to ever talk about with Y/n in the room.

“Hey bestie.” Robin winked at Y/n and he felt himself relax. Around her he always felt more comfortable. She got him on a much deeper level than Steve did. She had actually been the one to set them up after failure after failure of Steve’s attempts on girls who came to the ice cream shop they met at originally. It had gone up in flames recently, but they’d snagged a job at a movie store so they still worked together. Y/n was pretty sure neither of them would have it any other way, even if they sometimes pretended to hate each other.

“Hey loser,” Y/n joked back. Robin shoved him and he laughed, accidentally ramming into Jonathan as his feet almost came out underneath him. “Sorry,” Y/n mumbled.

Robin scoffed in amusement. “I always forget you have two backward feet.” This was something she said often, in reference to the popular statement of ‘two left feet’. One day Robin had proclaimed that Y/n was something worse than two left feet, and then being backward had kicked off as an inside joke.

“I’d you have that problem standing still, how do you think you’re going to do on a hike?” It seemed Bianca was trying to get in on the joking, but it hit a hard cord with Y/n.

He wasn’t in the mood to joke. “What can I say? Great day to die.” He put on the fakest smile ever. “Come on everyone!” Then he began to surge ahead, onto the trail, and the others scrambled to catch up.

It didn’t tale long for Nancy and Bianca to hit the head of the trail. Steve dutifully stayed by Y/n, but he watched the girls head with a sort of forlorness. Because Y/n was so slow and Jonathan and Robin lagged even behind him, the two girls in front were racing up and down the steep sides of the path they were on, jumping over logs and hopping up on stumps to make the path harder. They were laughing hard and having a great time. Y/n knew that Steve desperately wanted to join them.

What kind of a boyfriend would Y/n be to stop him? “Go on,” Y/n sighed, nudging Steve forward encouragingly.

Steve looked at Y/n with an expression that tried far too hard at innocence to succeed. It was so obvious he was full of crap that Y/n was rolling his eyes before the brunette even spoke. “What? What do you mean? I’m having a great time with my boyfriend which was the point of this whole thing. Have I bored you already?”

“No, but I’ve bored you. Go and do parkour with the bad ass chicks up there. Go on.” Steve hesitated, but when Y/n shot him a look, he finally did speed ahead to catch up and join in the unnecessary shenanigans that gave Y/n extreme anxiety just imagining himself doing. He sighed watching Nancy and Steve. He knew that things were WAY over between them, but Y/n found a little jealousy in the way they worked together so fluidly. They were perfect for each other - even as friends. She just kept up with him and challenged him in a way that Y/n never could, and Steve thrived.

Slowing down in his moment of annoyance, Robin and Jonathan caught up to him. “Welcome to the world of those who have to sit back and wonder why they’re not still dating,” Jonathan sighed. His voice was as laced with bitterness as Y/n’s thoughts were.

“They’re so complimentary,” Y/n complained.

“You could argue that you guys are the same,” Robin pointed out. “You both hate doing anything outside or away from home. You both love reading and photography. I mean Y/n’s incredible view of the world allows him to be a great writer, but it also connects you two. Writing and photography aren’t far from each other and you prod that every day. Nancy can’t slow down enough to appreciate things like Jonathan does, and we all know Steve is no reader.” She chuckled. “And we’ll never know how awkward and snappy got buff and pretty.”

Jonathan and Y/n smiled at that. “Imagine another world where Nancy and Steve stayed together. Then maybe you and me would have-“ suddenly he lost his words as he tripped, and Jonathan reached out to catch him. The two boys busted up laughing. “That’s the second I have to say both sorry and thank you for your reflexes Mr. Byers.”

“Ah anytime. That’s what friends do. Share interests and talk about alternative world where they’re dating and catch each other when they almost die.”

That made Y/n laugh harder.

Suddenly there was a very unpleasant thump and a scream. The three in the back snapped their attention to the three ahead and saw Nancy and Bianca freeze and look back at Steve, who had landed on the ground. His hands had risen to cover his face, and he slowly turned on his side, curling in on himself. It seemed like he’d misstepped at some point and tripped and fallen.

Perhaps Y/n shouldn’t have been the one they worried about on this trip...

-

When they finally got Steve to the hospital, it was a mess. There had been blood everywhere, and Y/n’s weirdly good driving had saved the day in a pinch once again. They’d gotten there quickly and in one piece without getting pulled over.

Only an hour later they were given news. Steve came out with the skin around his nose already bruised and puffy. “Guess Who broke their nose,” he mocked in a song songey voice.

“Me?” Y/n joked.

“Me!” Steve agreed, pointing at himself. “It’s me. I broke my nose.” He slung an arm over Y/n’s shoulders and the other four covered their mouths to hide laughs. People wouldn’t be forgiving in public if it got out that the two men were dating, so they were trying to be lowkey.

The Doctor came over behind Steve. “He’ll be fine. I’ve given him direction son how to ice it and even given him some pain killers to help with the next few hours. But it is just a broken nose, so nothing too severe.”

“Thanks,” Y/n told the Doctor. They left then, everyone heading home. Y/n designated himself in charge of caring for Steve, and called his parents to let them know that Steve ‘got tired’ after the hike and totally knocked out. They didn’t mind, liking that Steve was actually spending time with other kids again, so it went without too much problem.

As Y/n was tucking Steve into bed, Steve caught his hand to still him. “I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. They hadn’t said that yet but... well, if hypotheticals with Jonathan had taught anything today, it was that Y/n was glad he was in this version of things, even if it was a little more complicated this way. So he meant it when he replied, “I love you too Stevie.”

Steve glared. “Not Jonathan?”

“Jon-“ Y/n’s deep confusion cleared as he realized what had been happening right when Steve had tripped. Jonathan and Y/n had been close. Laughing. Talking. Touching. “Oh my god Harrington did you break your nose because you were being a jealous idiot?”

“Maybe,” Steve grumbled, looking away.

Y/n laughed, gently tugging on his chin so their eyes met again. “Please sweetheart, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Me and my two backward feet are going to plague you for the rest of our lives.”

Steve’s eyes got very soft. “Do you really mean that?”

Getting sincere, Y/n leaned down and kissed Steve’s forehead. “Stephen Harrington, I’ve never meant anything more. I know we can’t get married or anything, or even date publicly, but... I don’t care. And maybe that’s some really forward thinking and we haven’t been dating that long, but I fell... a LOT of times in my life. It only made sense that the first time someone ever caught me, it was you. And it made me realize that I was gifted with my two backward feet so that one day I’d fall for you.”

Steve groaned. “That was painfully cheesy.”

“Okay, okay,” Y/n dismissed, rolling his eyes. The sweet moment was completely ruined.

“No seriously I would break my nose again before hearing that-“

Y/n reached over, turning the light off before climbing into bed with Steve. “Shut up Harrington, or I WILL break your nose again.”

Steve laughed before pulling Y/n close so they could fall asleep curled up with each other. “My cheesy, dumb, clumsy boy,” Steve mused quietly.

That made Y/n scoff. “If either of ya is the dumb in this relationship it’s YOU, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve whispered. It was quiet a while before he finally followed up with, “I’d like that future with you too.”

To hide his smile, Y/n mumbled, “Good night Stevie.”

After a second, Steve replied, “Good night, Y/n.” And for now, that was the end of it.