#she’s like maybe you can get a nice man to go with you

[retiredteabag]

Unknown Rivals

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: There was only one thing worse than being paired with Sukuna for an important school project, and that was realizing the slacker somehow had a higher class standing than yourself.

Tags: Academic rivals, enemies to eventual lovers, type A reader, mentions on anxiety.

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - next part

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You had been partnered with Sukuna for weeks now, and you were starting to lose it. After turning in your draft for the final presentation, you had learned of your classmates status as a student.

After having assumed that every meeting the two of you held was more of a free tutoring session for the lazy man, it would turn out Sukuna was the only student in class who was rivaling your own grades.

After this information had been absorbed, you left class without so much as a glace the boy's way.

It killed you to know that he was so nonchalant, that he barely put any effort into class and work yet he was up there with you.

He likely thought you a fool, all that time "teaching" him, he probably spent mocking you.

You couldn't help the flood of thoughts that overtook you, thoughts of him mocking you to his friends, thoughts of him screenshotting your messages to send to some group chat, thoughts of him making jeers at your intellect while you explain a concept ad nauseam.

Oh, how you hated him.

It didn't help that you so desperately craved approval from others. Teachers, friends, parents. You wanted it all. If you hadn't their validation, what did you have?

You worked tirelessly to earn the grades you maintained, even if people teased you, called you stuck up, or a sycophant. Was it so wrong to want to be liked?

And here he was, above it all, putting little to no effort into his work and still coming out on top.

He must have found it real funny. Probably had a good laugh every Friday when you met to "work" on your project.

That is why you found yourself writing up a short email, explaining how you no longer had an interest in meeting with him to prep. Requesting he develop his final presentation alone and informing him that from that day forward you would research, write, and present separately.

You hadn't even requested he send in his work for your review, though he had never done it before. No, you would do your part as far away from Sukuna as you possibly could and hope he never looked your way again.

This project was a big deal, you would be presenting it not just to your classmates and professors, no, but company stakeholders as well. They would be coming out to the auditorium to see students speak during finals. Some might even be looking for possible interns.

Apparently Sukuna knew what he was doing so maybe you didn’t need to monitor his work.

You were still going to stress about it though.

--

"UGH! I just cringe to think of every conversation. Why was he even meeting with me?"

You and your roommate had gone out for dinner and you were regaling her with the woes of your school project while she dipped her fries in a generous coating of milkshake.

"That boy looks like he's never held a coherent thought in his head, I doubt he cared to spare any consideration to something other than himself." She spoke with her mouth full, taking another bite, "He looks pretentious."

She wiped her fingers off on her jeans and reached for another handful of fries.

"But that's just the thing" You sigh, "he looks like he wouldn't handle complex thought but-" you're cut off by her giggle but you push onward, "-I'm serious! But he's apparently some wonder boy, a reeeeeal academic." You end your thought with a huff, dipping a nugget into some ketchup, and finishing your meal.

"Well now your Fridays are free, that's nice at least." She shrugs and all you can do is nod. "Who would have thought popular Sukuna is a nerd like you."

"He's not a nerd." You point a finger at her, "He doesn't even study! And I don't get why everyone likes him, he pays nobody the time of day."

"Are you kidding me?" She makes an incredulous laugh, raising her browns.

"What?"

"You haven't the slightest clue why he's so popular? Have you seen the man?"

As much as you hate to admit it... she was a little right. He was undeniably attractive. And his tattoos stretched across his body in a way that made him look like art. He wasn't a peacock either, flaunting himself, he seemed indifferent to the whole thing. He really was just one lucky bastard.

I seriously hate that guy.

--

The next week was filled with your typical busyness, avoiding your project partner didn't really occupy too much space in your mind, especially since he hadn't taken the curtesy to even respond to your email.

That was why, when you eventually saw him straighten his posture the second you entered the shared class, him stalking your movements carefully, you couldn't help but feel frustrated.

Did he say anything? No. Did he try to get your attention? No. But he kept looking at you, and every so often during the lecture, you could feel his gaze in your direction. Serving to annoy you further. He could pay no attention in class and still catch up to your academic level.

Stop being a distraction.

Ugh.

--

After the last fiasco with this professor, you weren't exactly looking forward to sharing a word so you found yourself packing up the moment class was over. It hadn't even taken you putting away your folder for you to feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey."

You narrowed your eyes in his direction. Sukuna spoke.

"We should probably discuss the presentation."

This might have been the most you had ever heard him say at a time. About school or otherwise.

"I sent you an email, you know?"

You shuffle your bag to fit everything comfortably and zip it up. Continuing on, "We already split everything up, if you'd like to see my slides so you can match my format you'll find them in the email I sent." You swung your bag over your shoulder, "Last week."

You were making your way to the classroom door, fully prepared for him to shrug it off, but he seemed to have kept up with your pace, speaking down into your ear as you made it to the threshold.

"I've looked over your slides. That's not what I'm talking about." He followed behind you, opening the classroom door wider to stand next to you.

"Sukuna. I emailed you. I've emailed you several times. What about our project do we need to discuss that you couldn't have just emailed me about?" You try to keep your voice down, your professor was still at his desk.

"Shouldn't we... I don't know, be practicing?" He shrugs.

"...What?"

"Practicing? For our presentation? I don't know, I figured you would be the type to want things to flow smoothly."

You pull back, "I do want things to flow smoothly, like I already stated in the email, I am going to present first, then wait for questions, and then you'll go and do the same."

He raises a brow, "I got that." The way he looks at you and speaks so patronizingly distinct as if to suggest you were the slow one. "I'm just saying, we should practice at least once, I want to make sure you can do it."

It took you a moment to understand what he had just said. No way, NO WAY he had just suggested that YOU didn't know what you were doing. You bark out a laugh. "I'm sorry? You want to make sure I can do it?"

He stands still, looks up at the ceiling, and hums, "Well, you're so anal about stuff, I figured you'd want to."

You can hear the blood pounding in your ears, "I'm sorry I like things to be done right." You swing your bag a little more aggressively. "I'll send you my presentation notes so you can make sure I can do it."

You start to march down the hall, offended by his lackadaisical insults when he swoops up to you in just a few strides. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying.... wouldn't it soothe your anxiety to go over it together? I don't think it's wrong to suggest that we would do better after having gone over it at least once."

Oh sure, he was thinking about your anxiety, how kind. You roll your eyes.

You saw him out of your periphery and clutched your bag to your chest as he approached. When you turned to see him he had his arms raised in defense. "If you really care so much I'll add my slides to the presentation and send it to you."

"Good." You swung back. "I've only been asking for," you roll your eyes, walking backward to one of the campus exits, "oh, I don't know, weeks?"

"Fine." He huffed, squinting at you, "But we seriously should go over it so I can be sure you don't ruin my work with your public speaking." He was smirking at you, you had never seen that look on his face and you hoped never to see it again.

"Oh-" You gasp, "my gosh." You stomp away, whipping out your keys, "Thanks Sukuna, I'll try not to ruin all your hard work since you're such a team player."

That man was dead to you.

--

You would never say it to his face, but as finals approached, you were beginning to feel the typical sickness in your stomach. You made recordings of your note cards to listen to at night, practiced your speech endlessly, and changed the batteries in your clicker at least three times.

You had always been anxious, memories of puking before tests as a child still live on in the churning of your gut. This anxiety helped to motivate you but was unnecessarily intense, your own mother had told you to loosen up in the past but that was simply not something you were capable of controlling.

"Well, you're so anal about stuff-"

Oh, that man pissed you off. And after all that effort to seem cool and composed in all of your "tutoring" sessions, he could still tell that you cared. Cared more than you should.

You would never be the cool girl.

And this was why you were growing more upset with the understanding that you felt- you knew you really would feel better if you could just have the chance to practice your speeches.

But your pride had gotten in the way.

Couldn't he have just said that he wanted to practice instead of making it seem like he didn't believe in you?

His email did come, by the way. No words, just an attachment.

And damn him, the slides we good, not too crowded, and perfectly concise, he even had his speaker notes included and as you whispered them to yourself while sitting on your mattress you became determined.

You would not let this man outperform you. There would be employers present looking for interns and if you wanted to be noticed you could not be seen as the weak leak between the two of you. Especially not if it was Sukuna.

You started your email at 11 that night and rewrote for far too long.

Yes, you would practice your presentation with him, because and ONLY because you wouldn't allow him to drag you down.

It would also help settle your nerves, but he didn't need that confirmation.

It was on. Partner or not, you were fighting for the top spot in class and if your speaking ability fell short in comparison to his, you could not ever stand to look at him again.

But one thing you knew for sure as you sent the email, was that your advisor would be receiving some correspondence about avoiding a certain someone in future semesters.

It was past midnight. You started drafting a note about your class enrollment needs.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Tags: @blueyesuguru @monimonster57

[cheyisagirlkisser]

a concept : abby's first time with a woman. maybe her first partnered orgasm too cause we all know owen ain't shit lol.

i'm so in love with this request. @powderpinkandsweeet did this concept too and it was delicious please go read hers here!!

warnings: owen.. fingering (a! receiving), oral sex (r! receiving), afab / fem reader, body worship because Abby deserves it.

a/n: I wrote Abby to be mostly bisexual in this fic, but you can interpret her feelings for men as possibly comphet or something similar. Either way, it's clear she discovers her preference for women.

Sex means a variety of things to people. In Abby's life, sex with men was mostly about love. She did feel attraction to men and she had relationships with them, last one being her ex-boyfriend Owen. It was never about the pleasure itself. Sure, there were moments when she felt physically nice during sex, but it didn't last. She was only halfway there by the time Owen was coming down from his orgasm. He didn't offer to finish her off, and aftercare was the sound of his breathless laughter accompanied by a "thanks, babe."

Abby didn't ever judge her friends who liked to have sex for less emotional reasons. At least, she didn't think there was much emotion behind it. Abby just knew more about sex within relationships. The fact that men were incapable of actually making her cum was overshadowed by feelings. Things changed when she caught a glimpse of Mel's contact in Owen's phone, though. Things changed for the better.

You were much different than Owen in ways that Abby could not grapple with. First of all, you weren't a man. Abby never really considered women as an option for her (though she had lingering thoughts about what it would be like to be with one), but seeing you at a small party, you being a friend of a friend, she wasn't exactly opposed to the idea of being involved with one.

Conversations led to observations. Whereas Owen was condescendingly sarcastic, you liked to be gentle with Abby. You never said a joke that made Abby feel bad about being a stronger woman; in fact, you told her you liked her physique. You asked about her workout routine, and you made her feel feminine. That was simply something Owen could not do. Owen was also a blind optimist. He turned away from issues in the pursuit of "ignorance is bliss." With you, it felt like you articulated your views in a way that made her question her own, even. You were clearly a thoughtful person, and you took time to educate yourself about human rights, something that should be the bare minimum but clearly Owen lacked education on. Abby could never talk to him about topics like feminist issues like she was able to with you. And lastly, a more physical observation, you made her realize that actually feeling pleasure during sex can make the sex 100 times more emotional.

You took her home with you the night you met. Abby told you about the break-up and how she was still processing it, and you didn't expect anything more from her than what she was comfortable giving. But fuck, the sex made her feel things. How was she ever supposed to feel this way with anyone else?

You had her laid on your bed, and you only kissed her for a little while. Even your kisses were like sugar, and Abby wanted so much more. Every moment of contact your lips made with hers reminded her of an artist's brushstroke onto a canvas, painting over it a masterpiece that simply cannot be undone.

Your fingers traced over her sides, heightening the pants she spills from her lips, and increasing a neediness deep within her that feels like pressure building up in a small space, needing to be let go. She was a little worried that you'd get her all worked up and not make her cum.

You noticed the way she retracted ever so slightly, and cupped her face. "Hey, what's wrong?" You asked so softly, patiently.

Abby swallowed, struggling to articulate her own feelings. She wasn't used to even speaking during sex. It never lasted long enough for her to be able to.

"We can stop if you want to." You offer, giving her a reassuring smile. Your thumb caressed her cheek, and it gave both a red warmth.

"No, it's not that-" she sighed, almost feeling annoyed with herself for making things awkward, "I just got really worked up, I guess. I've never..done this with another woman before, and men are probably different."

You nodded knowingly. "Do you want me to take care of you?"

Abby didn't know exactly what that entailed, but something in her had a pre-established trust for you, just knew that you'd stop if she needed you to. It made her want you even more.

After both of you had enough touchy-feely, Abby helped you pull her shirt and sports bra off. You admired each freckle-plastered inch of her body, from the peak of her nipples to her firm biceps. You took your time with her, and she loved it.

You used your hands first, your soft skin meeting hers. You trailed fingers over her arms, squeezing. Abby let out a soft sigh, and you took that as encouragement to lean in and plant adoration-filled kisses onto the muscle. "You're so pretty." The words were slightly muffled with your mouth on her skin, but she surely heard. It made her pulse beat faster.

You simply touched her for a while, at first warming her up and kissing her skin, mouth becoming steadily more explicit. When your mouth gently latched onto one of Abby's nipples, she couldn't keep herself from making a needy sound. Your tongue swirled over the pink bud, and Abby melted back into the bed.

Not longer after, you weren't surprised to find a pair of soaked panties worn by yours truly. Abby was laid out on your bed, legs parted for you. She was a little embarrassed that you had her so needy before even touching her.

"Fuck," is all she could manage when she felt a warm finger spread her folds open, sliding up to massage her clit.

"You like that, baby?"

"God, yes-" she breathlessly let out, trying not to completely lose it.

The way you touched her was much different from how Owen did. When he (rarely) used his fingers on her, it felt like he was trying to stab her vagina. He couldn't find a clit if it was bright red and glowing. You, however, both teased her and lavished attention on where her body knew it needed it. Your finger teased her hole before slightly stretching it, earning soft sounds from Abby.

You kissed over the firm muscles on her arms as you fucked her, careful to slip another finger into her and give her a good stretch. Abby was incoherent and so messy that her neediness was soaking your knuckles, trickling down your hand. You didn't complain or joke about it, even letting out sweet, approving hums onto her skin.

Your fingers didn't drill in and out of her like a screwdriver, much like Owen's, but rather plunging within her to press into her g-spot and curling upward. You kept your thumb on her clit, making sure she had that extra stimulation.

"Do you like it?" You asked, eyes peering up to meet hazy pair.

Abby eagerly nodded, not trusting herself to speak a sensical sentence. You smiled and carefully shifted to kiss her. This time, it wasn't as soft, rather sloppy but it was exactly what Abby needed. Everything you did made her head spin. You had her tongue between your lips, sucking on it and occasionally letting her invade your mouth and taste the sweetness of whatever was once there. Just the soft little nibbles you gave her bottom lip made her moan, a sound that would've been much louder if not swallowed by your mouth.

Best part was, you knew how to multi-task. The desperation she felt was slowly fed with the steady pace of your hand working on her pussy, and your lips made her feel what she didn't understand before: you made her realize that the physical part of sex, the part that she didn't quite like to explore with men, could be just as important as the romantic aspect.

You found a pace that Abby particularly liked, causing her to whine and tangle her fingers into the sheets.

"Fuck, right here. I'm gonna cum." She pleaded, as if so desperate to get to cum. She wanted it so badly, and it only made you more needy to give it to her.

"Yeah? You wanna cum all over my fingers for me?" You cooed, lips brushing against hers. Your short breath sent warmth onto her lips, and she wanted to always feel it. It sent heat throughout her.

"I wanna cum for you!!" Her moans were louder, but you didn't shush her. You instead leaned down to kiss her, fingers pumping into her pussy, thumb rubbing circles down onto her clit.

She felt the final seconds of chasing her orgasm, hips lifting to meet your hand, and she thanked a higher power that you weren't a man who was giving her sloppy thrusts that would never get her over the edge.

You made her feel like she was on cloud nine. She probably cried out your name a couple dozen times, grasped onto your face to kiss your lips just to feel that connection as you fucked her. She never expected to feel such emotion during an orgasm, never was she able to feel this way during masturbation or with guys. It was all because of you that her pussy was sloppy and leaking onto your sheets, making a mess.

When she came down, you let her catch her breath, soothing her with kisses on her shoulders and allowing your cheek to rest on her chest. You listened to her heartbeat, waiting for it to grow steady.

Abby felt content and safe with you, but something was still nagging her. You made her cum, but she hadn't made an effort to touch you yet. She didn't ever want to make you feel the way that Owen made her feel.

She hesitantly but gently tapped your upper back, and you sat up.

"Are you okay?" You asked with a moderate amount of concern present, wanting to make sure you didn't do anything wrong.

"Of course, but..I wanna touch you. If that's okay."

You nodded. "Have you ever touched a woman before? At all?"

Abby shook her head, cheeks a little red. She was a bit nervous, but her eagerness made up for it. You didn't seem hesitant in letting her touch you, and that made her feel more confident.

"I've honestly always wondered what it'd be like to like, go down on a girl." Abby admitted with a sheepish laugh.

You smiled and began to strip, your tank-top and bra leaving your body first. For the first time, Abby felt truly overwhelmed with seeing someone naked. You looked so soft and touchable, and she found herself wondering how you'd taste, feel, and sound like when she made you feel good. She hoped she could make you feel good.

You laid down next to where she was previously laying, and Abby situated herself in front of you. You parted your thighs, and she sworn she felt herself drooling from the sight of your glistening pussy, begging to be eaten like a savory meal.

Abby found it most comfortable to lay on her stomach, face between your legs. She wanted to make you feel appreciated (and she loved your thighs), so she planted kisses along your thighs, frequently peeking up to make sure you were comfortable. When her mouth was near your pussy, she paused.

"Can you guide me? Sorry, I know it's awkward as hell, but I have no clue how to do this and I want to make it nice for you." She could hear the shakiness in her own voice, making her slightly cringe.

Abby felt one of your hands stroke through her hair, fingers carding through the blonde. "Just do what you think would feel good, you know? You're a woman, so try to imagine it on you. I'll tell you what feels good and what doesn't." Abby let herself imagine it for a moment and nodded, knowing that the best way to learn is to just practice and listen to your moans and what you tell her you don't want.

She gave herself a second to calm her nerves, and gave an experimental lick to your clit. You made a soft sound, encouraging more.

As Abby worked, she knew she wasn't physically skilled at this, at least not yet. However, she was enthusiastic about it. She tried to make up for the lack of experience as best she could. Thankfully, you also tugged her head closer and ground your pussy against her mouth, making it easier for you to feel pleasure while she figured out what worked well for you. You seemed to like when she slipped her tongue into you and worked at your clit with her nose, your moans less steady and increasingly broken as she tasted your gummy walls.

She found that to get you to your orgasm, it took much longer than it took Owen. She enjoyed that more than she'd expected to, savoring being able to just taste you. She craved feeling the way your hips stuttered when she gave your clit a firm lick, or hear you cry out when you finally got close to an orgasm.

Abby initially didn't know whether to speed up or continue, but the rhythm of your hips helped guide her until she finally had you cumming on her tongue. You were pretty with your eyes half-lidded and brows knit tightly together, thighs pressing against her face, it made her want to just take a mental snapshot of this moment and keep it with her forever. She didn't know what she loved more, the process of eating pussy or the aftermath.

When you were stable again, Abby moved to mimic your previous action, letting her ear press against your heartbeat. You had to stifle a giggle at how cute it was, but you were probably too out of breath to even get a steady laugh out. She didn't leave sexual, sloppy kisses onto your tits, but rather gentle, loving pecks.

Abby didn't know when exactly she fell asleep, but she woke up with her chest pressed against your back, cuddling you tightly against her. It was probably early in the morning, and her body was still a bit sore, but she smiled and planted a kiss onto the back of your neck, holding your bare form close to hers as she drifted back into a peaceful sleep.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[4:22 pm]

(cw: f!reader, unwanted advances, threats of beating someone up, profanity)

Fratboy!Jaehyun wasn't even sure what the fuck he was doing in the library! He started at his laptop in pure annoyance. Like, what did the words on the screen even mean? What did his professor even want him to do by reading 10 pages? Who the fuck even came to the library?

Well.. his eyes darted to the next table over, you were here. Here working on an assignment and Jaehyun was just too proud to admit that he was in the stages of being clingy. He couldn't get enough of being around you, he wanted to spend every single minute with you, and didn't like even thinking about you not being near him. So here he was, "studying" a table away with a pout on his face since you told him to give you space.

Actually, not just you, you and your partner. Ugh, Jaehyun hated this guy. Jack. Stupid Jack. Stupid Jack who had very clearly been flirting with you despite the fact that your almost boyfriend was just a few feet away.

Jaehyun tore his eyes away from the screen once again, focusing on you and Jack giggling over your shared laptop. Whatever, any word coming out of stupid Jack's mouth couldn't have been that funny. Or maybe it was funny and Jaehyun would just never understand because he wasn't in the same major as you and Jack.

That was also another reason Jaehyun was here in the libabry. A reason he'd never tell anyone. So maybe Jaehyun was a little insecure with the fact that he wasn't smart enough for you. You were smart, so smart. Before you, the only times he'd actually studied was when Taeyong forced him to go to the library. So what if he wanted to be better for you? It wasn't like getting smart and trying in school was a bad habit. It was a great habit, even if it was a major pain in his ass.

"Bro, you've been staring at Sweets for like 5 minutes now," Jaehyun heard from his left side. Right, dumb and dumbest, aka Mark and Haechan had found him here in the library and crashed his spying.

"I'm not staring!" Jaehyun whispers.

"I would," Haechan adds, "Jack has totally been flirting with her. It's fine, she knows where home is."

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, he's so pissed off with Jack that Haechan's comment isn't even a cause for concern. Yet, as he looks at you and Jack, he sees Jack leaning in to whisper something in your ear, sees you laugh softly, and sees Jack's eyes dart down to you lips. Then, as if in slow motion, Jaehyun sees this asshole begin to lean in!

He stands and takes the few steps over to you just as you pull back with your eyes wide in complete distress.

Jaehyun grabs your chair and slides it back before Jack can get any closer, "bro, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Jack chuckles, "hey man, she was digging my vibe, so I decided to make my move."

"Digging your vibe?" You parrot, "no, I wasn't. What made you think that?"

"I've been flirting with you since you gave me you number for this assignment and you never shut me down," Jack states as if it's the most obvious thing ever.

Jaehyun turns to you, brows furrowed with confusion just to catch your brows furrowed with confusion. It's cute, Jaehyun thinks, it's really cute. "But I thought you were just being nice and thought you were a little funny," you reply softly.

Jack rolls his eyes and grabs his things while Jaehyun helps you gather your own things. What Jaehyun really wants to be doing is beating the shit out of Jack for flirting with you and making you feel stupid, but he doesn't. Beating Jack up wouldn't make this situation better or help you feel better.

So later, while the two of you walk back to the frat house hand in hand, Jaehyun listens to you explain how you never assumed Jack was into you. "No guys have ever really been into me. He was never overtly friendly or made any directly flirty comments... how did I miss it?" You pout.

Jaehyun pulls you in close and wraps an arm around your shoulders, "lots of guys are into you sweets, they just know better than to hit on my girl. And Jack, well he's just an asshole who either didn't know or didn't want to take any hints."

“Lots of guys are into me?” You repeat with a pout and your brows pinched in confusion.

“We’re not focusing on that right now,” Jaehyun deadpans, “I’m yours and you’re mine. I think… maybe you just missed the signs. I mean you missed my signs.”

“That’s true,” you nod.

Jaehyun laughs softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while you both climb the steps of the porch, “it’s done now. You don’t have to worry about him anymore. Plus, if doesn’t get the hint after all this, you let me know and I’ll be happy to sucker punch him right in his ugly face.”

“Me too!” Haechan exclaims as he tosses his backpack aside, “actually just let me know if he even looks at you. I’ll fight him for that, and I bite!”

[am-i-interrupting]

Can you do an omega!Jinx with an alpha reader where Jinx gets surprised when reader gets protective. Like the reader usually hangs back and lets Jinx take care of herself but since she’s presented the reader feels more instinct to protect her.

Protective Predator

You were used to letting Jinx do her own thing. You couldn’t really do stop her when she set her mind to something. However, things had changed.

Not really. Not in any way that mattered. They had changed though. Since she’d presented.

Maybe it’s because it was all new. You weren’t used to being around an omega, especially not one you’d staked claim to. She wasn’t just an omega.

She was your omega. You were her alpha. This was a dynamic that was both so familiar and yet foreign.

You knew how to be around Jinx. You’d been doing it for years. She was not something strange or weird to you. The pull in your stomach? That was strange and weird.

Being with Jinx, you’d always been physical. Not even in a sexual sense, she just liked to hold hands and cuddle and be assured that you were real not one of her hallucinations. But your body for the past two weeks since she’d presented, had been telling you that it was a need to have her close not just a pleasantry.

You’d been holding her hand, having your arm around her shoulder or her waist. Letting her keep your jacket, insisting on it because she needed to smell like you.

You were honestly getting a little fed up with it. You knew logically that Jinx could and would take care of herself and had no problem doing it. She loved putting assholes in their places. You didn’t need to fend them off for her.

You forced yourself away from her to go and pick up some food. A lot of people weren’t going to be honest to enforcers of all the rats in the world. However, some people could be paid out. To see her in passing may be one thing but having a conversation with her? It wasn’t a risk you were willing to take.

You were on your way back to her with food in hand when you heard her scratchy, pitched voice, “I promise you, I’m far more dangerous than any house omega you’d want. Got it?”

Your feet sped up on their own accord as you traveled through the crowd of people. Her gun glistened as she flashed it.

“Aw, come on, sweetness, don’t be like that,” the man who stunk of an oncoming rut said. “You can’t tell me you don’t crave a nice alpha go fuck you into your place.”

“No, I don’t actually,” she said as she raised her gun to his face. “I’ve got—“

“Me to do that for her,” you said, cutting in right before you decked the man in the face, the bag of food going to the ground.

He stumbled. You grabbed his forearm and spun him in a circle. You stopped and used the momentum to throw him into the ground. You leveraged one foot back before you swung it forward and delivered a blow to his dick. You pressed you foot further onto it as he whimpered and you leaned down.

Your nails dung into his face. Your lips went close to his ear.

“But between you and me, she doesn’t get fucked into place. I get fucked into mine.” You leaned back to meet his eyes. “So if I can do this to you, image what she’d have done.”

You stood up. He tried to push himself up but you kicked him back down. You angled the heel of your boot and slammed it into his nose. A loud crack sounded through the air.

“Come on, sweets,” you said.

You grabbed the food bag and wrapped your arm around her shoulders. She smiled. Her hand was slack and more controlled by the weight of her gun than her body as she shrugged at the man.

The clarity came afterwards, about four buildings down. “I’m sorry. You had control of that. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Oh, toots,” she said lightly, “you don’t need to apologize.”

She used her hand around your waist to pull you into an alleyway. She pressed you into the side of a building.

“That was really fucking hot.”

Isha complained that her food was cold when you got back.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Heyyyy I was wondering if your not busy maybe you could write my request!

Sae-byeok x fem!reader in squid game. Kinda like a golden retriever x black cat where Sae-byeok looks after reader.

If you actually end up writing this thx sm and take care!!!

Love:

-🤍

fem!plus size reader, wc: 589.

a/n: i've been on my sae-byeok kick as of late! this is so fluffy it's actually terrible, but this woman makes me so HEHEHEHE

cw! deok-su being nasty :[

Sae-byeok hovered behind you like a shadow, looming like a parrot perched on your shoulder.

You don’t mind it, because it’s nice knowing you have someone looking after you, though you don’t really know why she chose you out of all people.

You aren’t weak, and you’d like to think it was your smarts and pure willpower that’s gotten you to where you are now, but maybe she sees something you don’t. You don’t really know whether or not that’s a compliment, unfortunately.

Tensions were rising exponentially as bodies fell and the prize pot got bigger; it’s to a point where you’re not really sure who you can trust. 

It’s obvious with the way everyone’s split up into their preferred groups that they feel the same way. You’d like to think that your group were good people… or at least good adjacent. It was impossible to be good and still end up in a place like this. 

She sits behind you on the steps to the bunks as you munch down on your pitiful lunch; just an apple and a bottle of water. There’s no complaints from you, though, as the juices from your surprisingly red apple drip down your chin.

There’ll be time to worry about that later, but you stop when you hear a scoff come from behind you. “Are you always such a messy eater?” Sae-byeok murmurs.

You turn around with a slight pout, water still glistening on your face. “How are you not hungry?” You ask through a large chunk of apple in your mouth. She just stares at you and sighs, pulling her sleeve down over her hand.

You watch her curiously as she cups the side of your face, using her cloth covered wrist to swipe through the mess.

“Disgusting.” She chides, all the while. You blink rapidly and almost choke as you swallow. “Thanks.” You mumble shyly. She just grunts.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Comes from an approaching Deok-su. 

Your body jolts so hard you almost fall from where you’re sitting. You look at the tattooed thug from beneath your lashes, scooting backwards so your back hits the front of Sae-byeok’s legs.

“Screw off.” Sounds the girl behind you. “I’m not doing anything.” He says with a smirk. “Unless I’m interrupting something.” He says suggestively. 

“You’re not interrupting shit. Screw off before I make you.”

The smirk slips from his face and he steps forward threateningly. “Is that a threat, you bitch?” 

You feel Sae-byeok stand up behind you, stepping around your frozen body to hide you from his dangerous thoughts.

“I’ll make it one.” She spits. “Listen here –” He’s stopped by one of his “friends,” putting a hand on his shoulder. “Boss.” He murmurs, gesturing to the left of him at a guard that tightened his grip on his gun warningly.

“You just got lucky.” He growls, snatching his shoulder out of the man’s grip, storming off.

Sae-byeok ops to sit in front of you this time, and you tug on her jacket. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You hissed in worry. “It doesn’t matter.” She says plainly, glaring off at the man who had resettled in his area. “He was going to come and spit his filth regardless.” She adds.

“Still, I don’t like when you get on his radar like that.” You mumble. “I can handle myself.” She said back.

It’s you I worry about, are the words that are left unsaid.

You send her an appreciative squeeze to her arm anyway, anxious – and flustered – butterflies swarming in your stomach.

[ghouljams]

The Church of the Broken God (chapter 2)

Words: 5k Tags: Eventual John Price x reader, public masturbation, brainwashing, doublespeak, indoctrination, f!reader, passively suicidal ideation, self destructive habits, horrible bosses, depressed!reader, Cult Leader!Price Summary: Your life has been on a downward spiral for months. It's hard to find a real reason to keep going when everything you do seems to backfire. That is, until you get a flier for a meditation seminar that promises to fix all your problems.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

These women are… super nice. You don’t know why it puts you on edge. They’re not doing anything wrong. They buy each other drinks, compliment each other, they’re attentive listeners and laugh at every joke you make. You offer to buy a round, the same as they’ve been doing for you, and you’re not met with a rush to stop you. They look pleased, shoot off thanks and smile the same as they did for the other women. You feel like you’re doing the right thing, you don’t know why it makes your stomach squirm. Maybe you’re just not used to people doing nice things for you.

“You ok?” Nina asks, leaning over the table to frown at you, “you’ve gone all quiet.”

“Yeah, uh, I guess I’m just not used to crowds anymore.” You attempt to cover.

“It’s the compliments isn’t it?” Cassie jumps in, Nina waves her off.

“No, no!” You hold up your hands to defend yourself, “Those are really nice, you’re all really nice! I’m just not-”

“Used to it?” Nina finishes with a wince, “I wasn’t either, it was super awkward the first time I came out for drinks, you remember?”

“Oh my God so awkward, you were like a robot.” Cassie laughs, it takes some of the weight off your shoulders.

“But you get what you put out into the world, y’know? You give kindness, you get it in return, that’s what John says.” Nina nods, she crosses her arms and leans back against the booth. She feels serious, her jaw set and her brows drawn. “I was in a really dark place when I first took John’s class, it felt like I was living a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. My friends were drifting away, my fiance was cheating on me-” She shakes her head, you wince at how closely your situation matches, “-I was so bitter and it made me mean, I get why no one wanted to be around me.”

“Nina-” Cassie sighs, her sympathy obvious. Nina waves her off again, sitting forward to grab her drink.

“Whatever, it’s in the past now.” Nina mutters, your heart aches for her. You set a hand on her shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. She smiles at you. It feels… good. You can see yourself in her, your pain and suffering. It’s a weight that she carries the same as you. “Kyle really helped me a lot, Christ I owe him a whole bakery.”

“Nina!” Cassie squeals, shoving at her. Nina’s shoulder bumps against you, warm. Camaraderie. Did you forget what it was like to have friends? When was the last time you saw your own? The last time they laughed with each other, with you? “You’re so bad,” Cassie laughs.

“What? He’s hot!” Nina laughs back. You feel a little left out. Your stomach clenches.

“Sorry, who’s Kyle?” You ask, “Your boyfriend?”

“She wishes,” Cassie snorts into her drink. Nina shoves at her.

“He’s a counselor, life coach sort of guy.” Nina explains, “He has a class at the rec center on Wednesdays-” Claire’s phone pings “-honestly it’s worth going just to see him, God I wanna make a sandwich out of that man.”

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” Claire announces. You glance at the other women at the table. None of them move. Weird, you would have thought women this close would be biting at the bit to accompany her. You always used the buddy system with your friends. Especially at bars. In fact the other women at the table seem to ignore her, only acknowledging her enough to move out of the way. 

You guess there’s a black sheep in every friend group. You know the feeling. You tap your fingers against the table watching her retreat to the bathroom. You don’t have a good feeling about letting her go alone. Nina’s insistence on “putting kindness into the world” or whatever is running through your head and you just… you can’t let her be on the outskirts of the friend group alone. You’re not even really part of it, but everyone is being so nice- you won’t be the reason this girl is left out.

“Oh um, I’m gonna ask the bartender something,” You tell the girl on your left, shit what was her name “can you-?

“Sure!” She pushes herself out of the booth to let you out, quickly cozying up next to Nina when you vacate the spot. You glance at the table over your shoulder as you make your way towards the bar, then make a hard turn towards the bathrooms. No one’s paying attention to you, that’s good.

You push the bathroom door open, trying to be quiet in case Claire’s shy. You’ll just, uh, wash your hands and pretend you’re fixing your outfit when she comes out. Nothing weird about that. Totally normal thing that people do, and not like you’re waiting for her to come out of the stall so you can- What? Commiserate about being left out? Ugh, you don’t know why you even-

There’s a distinct, wet, noise coming from one of the stalls. A ‘shlick, shlick’ sound that you recognize all too easily. You catch the bathroom door to keep it from slamming and cover your mouth. Fingers sliding against a wet slit, a soft huff of a stifled moan, and the quiet low rumble of a man’s voice. Deep and throaty, she’s on the phone with someone, or listening to something. You can’t tell which, what you can tell is that Claire --the girl who had seemed almost too shy to ask you to join them--  is masturbating in a public bathroom. And you’re standing there listening. You’re not sure which is worse. It squirms like bile in your stomach, you’re intruding, you’re being a creep. Your own cunt clenches. 

A quiet whimper leaves Claire’s mouth and you rush back out of the bathroom. You catch the door a second time to make sure she doesn’t hear it slam, then you press yourself against it. You fan your face, try to get your breathing right, fix your face. Fix your damn face! You press your hands to your cheeks, and squeeze your eyes shut. Oh my God.

You make your way back to the table, doing your best to avoid looking at anyone. The girl who moved for you initially lights up when she sees you, hopping out of the booth and ushering you in. You feel a little awkward sliding into the middle with Nina, but you don’t want to cause a fuss with so many people watching you. Good lord do they all have to look at you? 

“Did the bartender have what you were looking for?” Nina asks. Your eyes dart to her.

“The- oh, uh, no. I was wondering if he had a phone charger.” You cover quickly.

“I have a power bank you can use,” Cassie offers. You open your mouth to turn her down before remembering that would blow your story out of the water.

“Sure.” You relent, forcing a smile onto your face. 

“No problem,” Cassie chirps, digging through her purse to tug a power bank and two different chargers free, “it feels good to do nice things for people, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you agree absentmindedly, fussing with the charger and plugging your phone in. An alert for a non-branded charger pops up and you quickly dismiss it. 

The conversation moves on to other topics, but you hardly pay attention. Your eyes are glued to the bathroom door, waiting for Claire. When she does finally exit she looks the same as when she left. No ruddy cheeks, no guilty glances around, no rumpled shirt or anything that would give away what she was doing in the bathroom. You try not to narrow your eyes as they flick over her body. You don’t want to look like you’re checking her out, you just want proof that you heard what you heard.

“Welcome back,” Someone says, and Claire beams at them.

“Who’s buying the next round?” Claire asks.

You drift in and out of conversation. Someone offers to split an uber with you, apparently they live in the same building. You wonder how you never noticed them before, but they hug you before you get off the elevator.

“It was nice to connect with you,” She hums, “it feels nice being part of something, doesn’t it?”

You don’t get a chance to answer before the doors close.

-

Wednesday, you think, flipping through your phone while you brush your teeth. Nina said her life coach guy was on wednesdays right? Curious, you check the rec center’s website.

“For the Whole You!” The site banner reads in friendly font. You scroll down to their calendar. There’s a lot of pictures of people smiling, a pie chart of something, testimonials, blah blah blah. The calendar is easy to read at least. And packed. It looks like meditations happen every three days, you spot John’s name easily. Price, huh, that’s a cool last name. Wednesdays… 

You click on the only Kyle you see, and a page pops up with- Christ- one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. Kyle Garrick, life coach with a masters in psychology. That doesn’t sound too bad. You thought life coaches were just con men in ripped jeans, but this guy seems like he might actually know what he’s talking about. John’s name pops up again, a short anecdote from Kyle about serving with him. Huh. That’s kind of interesting you guess. 

You think back on the meditation lesson you’d attended, the power that John seemed to carry in simple actions, the musculature, the way he’d pinned you in place with a single tilt of his head. Military fits you guess. You click on his class and tap your fingers against the side of your phone as you think. The class has a helpful registration counter at the side, letting you know there’s one spot left for the wednesday evening class. It’s not like you have anything else going on, and it’ll fill your usual therapy slot. It’s twenty for a single class. That’s not too bad, less than therapy co-pays. You make an account on the site, begrudgingly signing up for their email list, and send twenty dollars into the void. 

You get an email from Kyle about an hour later as you’re scrolling through instagram, avoiding looking at the time. It feels pretty standard, welcoming a new person, attaching a survey on what you want to work on. You type out a few quick words promising you’ll get to it in the morning. Your email pings a few minutes later.

“You must be an insomniac, just tackle it now.” You narrow your eyes at the screen, “Might help you sleep to accomplish a task before bed.” 

What sort of weird logic- fine. You squint at the questionnaire, typing out your answers as best you can. Honest enough to get some advice but not honest enough to get sent to the hospital has always been your MO with these things. This one is sort of weird, but you’re exhausted, too sleep-addled to pay proper attention.

Are you lonely? Do you ever feel out of place? Do you have dreams where you act as someone else? Have you heard of the law of attraction? When someone says they feel “connected” to you, how does that make you feel?

Do you ever feel talked over?

Do you ever feel pushed out of conversations? Do you find it hard to accept yourself?

Are you on the path you want to be?

You rub your eyes, typing as best you can. 

Where do you see improvement for yourself?

Describe yourself in one negative word.

You type, and type. It feels never ending. Worse than the insomnia that keeps you up. It’s nearly two hours later when you finish. You send it off to Kyle without another thought, and snuggle down into your blankets. You’re so tired.

Your phone buzzes. You roll over to check it. Another email from Kyle.

“Thanks, this looks great! :)” You sigh. At least your work checks out. That’s good, you’re sure it’s just an auto-response, but you appreciate it nonetheless. Another message pops up. Your email alerting you to a new response in the chain.

“How long have you had trouble sleeping? I know a few good remedies.” You sigh, the screen hurts your eyes. You don’t know what inspires you to reply, why you don’t simply roll over to sleep. The attention is nice, you suppose.

“A few months. What’s your miracle cure?” You stare at your phone, let the blue light laser its way over your eyes. The screen dims, you tap it to keep your phone awake. To keep you awake. 

“Have you heard of sleep restriction therapy?”

-

Your morning has never felt more miserable. You barely slept and you had to upgrade your usual tea to an instant coffee. You’re nursing the brown sludge that you managed to scrape together from the break room’s limited stores when your least favorite manager swings by your cubicle.

“Did you finish the reports I asked for?” Kevin asks. You do your best to keep your face neutral as you sip your scalding caffeine.

“I told you they’d take me until the end of the day.” You remind him, “It’s nine in the morning.” Nevermind that he’s swinging into the office a full hour late, but you know for a fact that you promised the updated numbers by five today. You have the email to prove it.

“Oh,” Kevin makes a face, his teeth grit as he exhales through them, “I was really hoping you’d work on them last night.”

“Outside of work hours.” You confirm, trying not to sound too much like you’re questioning his less than sound judgement.

Kevin sighs your name with a shake of his head, “You know you’re not going to get very far in this company if you don’t care about your work.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, inhaling as much coffee vapor as you can stomach. It does nothing to calm you down. You can’t be expected to deal with this level of bullshit on practically zero sleep. Maybe you should look into that sleep therapy Kyle sent you, you really can’t keep living like this.

“I care about my work Kevin,” You tell him with as much of a smile as you can manage, “I’ll have the reports to you as soon as possible.”

“Atta-girl,” Kevin praises, snapping his finger to hit you with a nauseating pair of finger guns before moseying back to his office.

If you thought reporting him to HR would do anything you might consider it. As it stands you’ve already tried that twice and gotten nowhere. It just made him more dedicated to making your work life hell. Crazy how they always talk about retaliation in the “Hostile work environment” training videos, but no one seems to give a shit about it when it’s happening to you.

You spend the next two hours swearing at the mess of spreadsheets that Kevin emailed you yesterday. If he’d bothered to clean any of the sheets up it would’ve made your life a hell of a lot easier. You don’t even want to think about how many cells could’ve been saved if he knew how to use just one function. You can feel the start of a migraine pressing against the back of your eyes by the time your stomach is starting to growl at you about lunch.

You glance away from your monitor to rub your eyes, try to get some of the blurry tilt out of them. Your bag sits on the desk next to you, deliriously empty. Fuck.

Fuck that’s right, you’d decided to skip packing a lunch this morning because you were running late for your train. 

With a heavy sigh you check your lunch options just as your phone pings.

It’s an unknown number, weird.

You swipe the message open to delete it and pause.

“Hey, it’s Nina! I saw you work near me and was wondering if you’d want to grab lunch?”

You blink at your phone screen. How the hell would she know where you work?

Your sluggish brain clicks away as your stomach churns nervously. You guess Cassie works at the rec center, she’d see applications that come through, membership stuff. Maybe Cassie gave it to her? Nina was the one who suggested you sign up for Kyle’s class, maybe Cassie wanted to, you don’t know, spread the good news of your signing up?

Your head throbs.

You’re not really operating at 100% right now, you’re not sure you want to interact with someone who seems to have their life together.

“My treat?” Nina double texts you.

Alright, you can pretend to be a human being for free lunch.

You’re almost relieved to see Nina has a little darkness under her eyes, purple sleeplessness that she’s tried to hide with concealer. It makes you feel a little better for your own sluggish brain to think that she might be tired too. 

“I know this is probably totally weird,” She laughs when you greet her with a raised hand, “You’re probably like, oh my god this bitch is a stalker, how does she know where I work?”

“I figure Cassie gave it to you, because I signed up for your favorite class.” You yawn, as she nods.

“That’s smart,” She says nothing about your second yawn, “wouldn’t have been my first thought.” You hum, before deciding a verbal answer is friendlier.

“Yeah, I mean it seemed sort of weird, but you don’t strike me as the stalker type.”

“Tell my ex-fiance that,” Nina says with an eye roll, “ask to share your location one time- of course I was right to be a stalker but…”

You snort and she positively beams at you. You have to squint to avoid blinding yourself in the sunshine of it. She links her arm with yours and tugs you along to walk with her. You do your best not to tug your arm out from her hold, not used to being touched so casually.

“So what are you in the mood for?” She asks, leading you down the street.

“I’m not picky,” You tell her, trying to be easy. You could really go for something warm right now, you think you might be coming down with something.

“You look exhausted,” Nina coos sympathetically, “Maybe you should go home instead. Rest.”

You rub your eye with the heel of your hand and shake your head. “I’ve got a lot to get done today.”

“Surely your boss won’t mind you taking some sick time?” She sounds so sincere, you feel bad when you bark out a laugh. Nina frowns, “One of those, huh?” You sigh, letting yourself feel the heaviness in your limbs like a sick indulgence.

“Just a few more hours,” You assure her, “Then I can go home and sleep.”

“Let’s get something good in you before then.” Nina nods to herself.

Nina orders for you and sets a steaming bowl of rice and saucy vegetables in front of you. It smells heavenly, like ginger and coconut, and there’s little crispy bits of something sprinkled on top. She has a salad, and shakes it vigorously in front of her while you mix up the yellow curry and rice. Even just the thought of the food’s warm steam settling in your stomach energizes you. You glance at Nina and she’s got her head bowed. 

You-

Pause. 

A little awkward in the face of what must be prayer. You’re not quite sure if you’re supposed to start without her, or if that’s rude. You don’t know the protocol for this. After a moment she raises her head and blinks at you.

“Oh my gosh, were you waiting for me?” She asks, scandalized. You nod, unsure what to do with your hands. You settle on spooning a heap of curry and rice into your mouth. You figure that’s fine since she’s done. “That’s really sweet of you,” She smiles. She doesn’t give you any indication if this was the right thing to do. You stare at your bowl and chew.

“I was going to invite you to hang at the rec center after work,” Nina starts, waving her fork with a sigh, “but I don’t want you to push yourself if you’re exhausted.”

“Do people hang out at the rec center?” You question, trying to remember if you saw other people there when you went yesterday. It had seemed fairly empty, almost abandoned, but maybe you’d been too focused on getting to your class to notice anything else. The class was full, so there must have been other people hanging around.

“Of course,” Nina gives you a look like you’re crazy for asking, “like all the time. It’s a nice spot just to chill and see people. John doesn’t mind us hanging around.”

John. That was the meditation instructor’s name, wasn’t it? It’s pretty common, you doubt it’s the same guy. Why would an instructor mind if people hung around anyway? Cassie had pointed you towards a lounge area last night so there must be more of those to steal for chatting.

“The meditation instructor?” You ask dumbly. It’s not the question you want to ask, but it’s the only thing that sticks on your tongue. Nina hums her assent.

“He runs the place.” She explains, “he’s super nice, really cares about bringing people together, building community, connections.”

She says the word like it means something: connections. It sticks in your sluggish mind, but doesn’t raise any red flags.

“Sounds like a good guy.” You shove another bite into your mouth.

“He is.” Nina tells you. Tells you, like she’s demanding you try and disagree with her.

You blink. There’s a coldness to her face, there and gone. She smiles, and tucks into her salad.

Maybe she’s got a thing for him. You make a note not to say anything bad about him to her.

He seemed nice, good looking, she could do worse.

You suppress a shiver at the memory of his hands on you, pushing you forward and pulling you back like it was the most natural thing in the world. His touch is the first you’ve had in a long time that didn’t make you cringe and want to squirm away. Actually his class was the most relaxed you’ve been in, well, ever and the short nap you’d taken was probably the best sleep you’d had in months. You’d almost be willing to give up on going straight home after work if you knew John was going to be at the rec center, maybe you could slip in another meditation workshop?

You want to ask Nina about it, but you also don’t want to give her the wrong idea. If she does have a crush on the guy, it’s probably not great to ask too many questions about John if you want to stay in her good graces. 

“Right,” You try, “yeah his class was great, and I’m, uh, looking forward to Kyle’s class too.” Not your best subject change, but Kyle’s name makes Nina light up.

“Oh yeah, you’re going to love it!” She assures you.

“Yeah, I- yeah,” The attitude shift has you a little stunned, your molasses thoughts stick to your tongue as you try to collect them, “He sent me this huge questionnaire last night, it was really, um, in depth?” You try to remember one of the questions but wading through your mind is difficult with so little sleep.

“Well,” Nina stabs her fork into her salad, you flinch at each punctuating crunch of lettuce, “he has to get to know you, silly, so he can help you.” You stir your curry in jerking motions, for something to occupy your hands. “You can’t pull yourself out of a hole,” Nina tells you with a blank smile, “someone has to throw you a rope.”

-

You were almost happy to get back to work. Kevin chewed you out about taking too long a lunch, and you were probably going to get an ulcer from all the tylenol you took, but you were happy getting away from Nina. She’d chatted your ear off about Kyle and somehow didn’t answer a single one of your questions about him. Not that you had any chance to get a word in edgewise. You couldn’t handle the perky tone in her voice by the time your lunch ended. At least you didn’t have to pay for your own food.

You manage to get Kevin his spreadsheets before five. You still leave the office late and thankless.

You doze on the train home, your head tugging at your neck each time the doors opened, and you barely make it into your house before you’re collapsing on the couch. 

Yeah, you couldn’t have made it to the rec center like this.

You startle awake when your ass starts vibrating. You blearily fumble for your phone  and swipe at the screen, turning off your “call Baby” alarm. You should really delete that.

You toss your phone on the coffee table with a sigh and turn onto your back to stare at the ceiling fan. Ten. You slept for a good couple hours. You’re starving.

And you’re not going to be able to sleep tonight because of this nap.

Great.

-

You consider canceling your registration for Kyle’s class as you sit on the train heading to the rec center. You could just go home. You sort of want to go home, but Cassie had called you this afternoon to confirm your registration and she’d sounded so sad when you’d asked about canceling that you just couldn’t. Also you were pretty sure it was too late to get your money back. So here you were.

At least the rec center is busier than Monday. Cassie had told you the Wednesday meditation was full, maybe this is their busy day. You see people coming in and out, and look for a familiar face in the crowd. You’re hoping to see one of the women you met Monday, but instead your eyes lock on slightly less familiar icy blues.

John smiles at you across the street, and glances both ways before jogging across. You paint on a smile for him, and try not to look like you were avoiding going inside.

“Waiting for someone?” He asks in lieu of greeting. You keep your eyes on his, the creases at the corners of his eyes deepen a little as you stare. 

“No, just-” You search for a normal time killing activity, “-people watching.” John hums and steps to stand beside you. The space he takes up feels enormous, like a black hole sucking up your attention, despite the way he crosses his arms over his chest. You peek at the bulge of his bicep against the dark shirt he’s wearing, the stiff fabric stretching to accommodate more man that it was made for. You would’ve expected him in the same comfortable yoga clothes as he was wearing Monday, but this feels more formal. He’s wearing slacks. And oxfords. 

“It’s intimidating,” He tells you out of the blue after a moment of silence. Your eyes dart to his face, and your confusion must be all too clear because he chuckles. The deep throaty noise of it makes your stomach clench. “Letting people help,” He fills in, “choosing peace.”

You make a face.

And John touches you.

His hand slides, big and warm, over your back. His fingers spread wide and he leans into your space like he might pull you closer, except you suddenly feel rooted in place. Fear shoots through you, anxiety punctuating your breaths unnecessarily. You fix your face quickly, tamp down the surge of adrenaline that makes you want to run. John isn’t doing anything but looking at you, his smile the same placid thing even as his brows twitch in concern.

“Sorry,” You find yourself apologizing, trying to unlock some of the stiffness in your shoulders, “I’m not used to people touching me.”

“It’s a natural response,” John doesn’t move his hand, his thumb rubs against your back and you feel the unnatural drag of your shirt against your skin like sandpaper, “You’re trying to protect yourself. Silly little thing that people have gotten into their heads these days, that everyone’s out to get them.” He tips his head, and you’re hit with a wave of claustrophobia, the open air seems to sink into you until you’re a single focus point in a tiny void. “Doesn’t that feel awful?” 

His words feel like they’re sinking into you, echoing every thought that bounces through your tensed musculature. It feels awful, you feel like a cornered gazelle, like a lame wildebeest, like a fly trapped in a spider’s net. 

You feel almost pleading the way you must be looking at him. Humiliated to react like this to something so simple.

He smiles brighter and his hand leaves you, you suck in a breath and feel your lungs ache, “That’s why it’s so important to pick apart that distrust, humans are social creatures, made to be connected to each other. All from the same warm pool, yeah?”

You nod. John nods his head towards the rec center.

“Let me walk you in, you’re here for Gaz’s class right?”

“No, um, Kyle’s.” You correct.

“Ah,” John laughs, his hand reappears on the small of your back, pushing you forward, “old habit, that’s what we called him in the SAS. You’ll like him, not as touchy as me.” He pulls his hand away with a small apologetic smile, “force of habit.”

“It’s fine,” it’s not, “Everyone around here is so friendly, I just have to get used to it.”

John hums, “Already untangling the web, good girl.”

Your stomach clenches pleasantly. You can see why Nina likes him.

[ghostgirl-22]

this came to me in a dream. 30s dilf pat with early 20s art. penny for your thoughts?

My thoughts are de-aging the slutty blonde to give Patrick an entirely new and added age gap complex. On top of everything else… wait is that not what we’re all thinking? 😭😭😭

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Age gap 10-11 years, obviously don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable. Slight teacher/student iffy power dynamics Yes, he’s a slut here again and a bit of a brat. But he’s more in control of it.

——

It’s not really Art’s fault. He doesn’t even mean to do it. He doesn’t need a lot of attention. Just a little. A fun little buzz and he’s a bit of a mess. He once accidentally made out with his big sister’s boyfriend, um ex-boyfriend. Jackson. Accidentally spent 30 minutes dry humping him in his bed before she caught him. She was so pissed at him, called him a slut. But it was an accident. It wasn’t his fault Jackson started rubbing his leg under the table.

He doesn’t even really like boys. Well not all boys. Well not really. Okay maybe some. He’s crushing hard on his Stanford tennis coach at the moment. Coach Zweig. He’s a lot older but so fucking hot. Bearded, tall, with skin that’s all golden in the sunshine. Everyone says he’s loaded and he just does this for the hell of it. Because he used to play for Stanford a million years ago before he got injured and he can’t let it go. He’s dating tennis superstar Tashi Duncan. “They’re practically married.” Everyone says.

He’s too fucking hot. He always wears shorts that are too fucking short, when he sits on the bench during practice, manspreading while he chats with the assistant coach, sometimes Art swears he can see the outline of it and he feels dizzy.

Art would normally give up. Maybe consider it futile if it weren’t for the way he sometimes catches Coach Zweig staring at him. Especially when he’s flirting with one of his teammates. Sometimes with a faraway look on his face. But when Art catches his eye and winks he’ll smile and roll his eyes looking away.

It’s also in the way it feels like he can barely stand to be near Art. His body goes tense, and he’s suddenly a bit less casual than he always is and the tips of his ears go all red whenever Art openly flirts with him. He’s always praising Art amongst the group (and of course he is, Art’s number one singles and the best player on the team) but whenever it’s time to give him feedback, he always tells Coach Meg to do it for him. Like he’s afraid to stand too close.

So basically it’s not Art’s fault. He did sneak into the club with his friend but it was a gay club. And Coach Zweig isn’t gay so Art didn’t expect to see him there. Art isn’t gay either but he’s a good friend. And it’s not just because he gave said friend a hand job and nothing else.

It’s fine. His friend has moved on, he’s making out with some senior, lips locked like they’re ready to go home. It’s almost 1 am and Art’s a little drunk, everybody’s been so nice… buying him drinks. He’s starting to feel a little guilty for sort of blowing them off after. He’s normally into it… into the flirting but he sees Coach Zweig all the way across the room. Talking to some guy. A blonde. Leaning into his ear, rubbing his waist. Art bites at the rim of his glass.

He’s dizzy. Dizzy. Really fucking dizzy. But he makes his way over. Coach Zweig spots him before he approaches.

He smiles but not with his eyes as he shakes his head. “What the fuck?” he says as Art leans next to him on the wall. One of his favorite things is how much Coach Zweig, no Patrick, swears. He doesn’t know why but hearing his potty mouth turns Art on.

“Hi coach,” he grins.

"Who' s this?” Patrick’s blonde friend gives him a look.

“One of my players, I’ll catch up with you,” Patrick says to him.

The blonde man glances at Art and then shuffles off.

“He’s cute,” Art grins.

“God you’re fucking 19 how the hell did you get in here?” Patrick hisses, when they’re alone.

“I’m not 19.”

“What—twenty?”

Art nods, smiling.

“How good is your fake?”

“Really good,” Art says, leaning closer. “Want me to buy you a drink?”

Patrick smiles. Art can’t help but notice the way his eyes fall over Art’s body. He’s in this sleeveless black shirt, he borrowed from his friend and fitted blue jeans. “You like it?” Art asks.

”You’re too young, Donaldson,” Patrick says. “There are plenty of little 22 year olds over there.” He gestures vaguely to the other side of the room.

Art bites down on his grin and leans even closer. It’s not all in Art’s head. God, Coach Zweig is actually attracted to him. He’s in shorts and a t-shirt. Khaki shorts, that scream 30 something soccer dad on a family vacation. Art wants to see about the outline of it that he’d sometimes glimpse when Patrick’s in his training shorts.

“I think I’m drunk, can you take me home?” Art asks, intimating shyness.

“God,” Patrick looks up at the ceiling and then takes a breath. ”You came here alone?”

“No but my friend left me alone so he could go get fucked,” Art tells him softly, emphasizing the word. “You know I’ve never been fucked before?”

Patrick chuckles and takes a step back. “I can’t take you home, but I can help you get a cab.”

“Did you come here alone?” Art asks. “Patrick.”

“Yeah… let’s get you that cab.”

Art hiccups. He really, really doesn’t want to mess this up. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“It’s okay,” Patrick says, he’s gentle. “How about… we don’t talk about this at the next practice? I didn’t see you here…you didn’t see me.”

Art nods his head. “Okay coach, but I really do feel a little buzzed and I’m only a few blocks away. Please. It’s all wet and rainy outside. I don’t want to wait for a cab.”

Patrick stares him down, like he’s mentally arguing with his better angels.

“Pretty please,” Art asks again.

He takes a breath. “Yeah… okay…fuck it. I’ll drop you off and I’ll come back.”

“Thank you so much!” Art says lightly.

Patrick tells his friend to wait for him and the friend gives Art a side eye, to which Art grins in response.

They hurry outside and get wet in the rain because his jeep is parked in the back of the lot. “How buzzed are you? This is fucking irresponsible, you know that right?” Patrick asks once they’re inside and he’s powering the car on.

“I’m tipsy,” Art says. “All these guys were buying me drinks… and I felt like I couldn’t say no. But I only had a sip of each one.”

”You can always say no,” Patrick says, gently.

“What if I don’t wanna?”

“Mm yeah… alright kid.” He shakes his head, gentle tone gone.

Art smiles. “Is that guy in there— is he your boyfriend?”

“Donaldson.”

“You can just call me Art,” Art says, he leans against the headrest staring at him. His dark hair is damp to his forehead from the rain.

“We’re not gonna talk about this.”

Art shrugs. “I think it’s hot… but what about Tashi Duncan? Isn’t she practically your wife?”

Patrick stops the car in a new spot. “Maybe we should get you that cab?”

Art keeps staring at him. “Okay, and I can wait for it…in your car.”

“You’re unbearable,” Patrick mutters.

“Why?” Art asks. “I’m just one of your players.”

Patrick snorts a laugh and turns to look at him. “Tashi is fine. She knows I— I do things like this when she’s on tour.”

“Things like the guy who looks like me?”

“He doesn’t fucking look like you.”

“I mean he’s old.”

“He’s 31.”

“Yeah old.”

“I’m 31.”

“So like… does it take you a long time to get hard?” Art asks softly, gazing down at his lap.

Patrick takes a breath and faces front again, shifting gears, “Jesus Christ, okay, that’s enough.” He pulls out of the lot.

“I feel like I can’t stop it. Mine’s hard all the time,” Art sighs, fidgeting in his seat. “Like when we’re in practice. And you're in those short shorts.”

“You need to stop.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I don’t want to.”

Patrick rubs his palm along his thigh and then grips onto the gear shift again. “If only you were this sure of yourself on the court Donaldson,” he says, it stings a little anytime he criticizes Arts playing. He was great before the injury. A lot of the team think he’s just saying stuff like that… an old man reminiscing about his glory days but Arts seen old tapes of him playing. He knows. Patrick Zweig was a fucking animal on the court.

He’s watched them a lot. Sometimes in the dark with the volume up and his hands down his pants.

“Maybe if you’d correct me yourself instead of always leaving me to your assistant I’d be better.” Art sighs. “But you can’t be alone with me.”

”That—“ Patrick laughs, that low chuckle, it makes Art’s insides feel like liquid. “That’s not true.”

“It’s so true. We can’t be alone. You can barely stand to be around me because you want to fuck me so bad. Mm not even 21 and you’re terrified just cause you wanna stuff your big old cock in me.”

“Jesus…” Patrick swallows. “I can write you up actually,” he says, he sounds desperate. “I can get you fucking kicked off the team.”

Art hesitates a minute. Then touches his thigh. He shifts his leg like Art’s palm is hotter than a frying pan, but his cock is clearly visible just under the lining of his khakis. “I promise I won’t tell anyone if you do.” Art says softly, biting his lip.

”Fuck,” Patrick breathes, white knuckling the wheel. They’re at a red light. ”You don’t… you don’t even fucking know what you want. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says weakly.

Art plays with his tongue in his mouth for a minute and then leans in close to Patrick’s ear, hands grabbing his upper thigh just over where his cock is resting. God it’s massive and Art can feel it still fucking… growing. He swallows. “I want you.”

“Jesus… you’re gonna ruin my fucking life.” Patrick whispers.

Art grins, and presses his lips to Patrick’s throat. Kissing and sucking there.

“Shit, you can’t… you can’t mark me,” he whispers.

“Mmkay,” Art breathes, he’s still rubbing along the outline of his cock. It’s not just long, it’s thick. Art’s whole body is lit up. He’s never had one inside him before. His roommate’s come close a few times but Art always made an excuse to get him to stop. Now he’s anxious and he can’t stop thinking about it.

“You want me to give you head while your driving?” Art whispers, licking his lips.

“Shit… That’s fucking dangerous sweetheart, just… just hold on. I’m gonna stop.”

“Kay.” Art says, shifting in his seat all warm for the “sweetheart”. He’s so fucking horny. His hand is getting sweaty for how hot and hard Patrick’s cock is underneath it. He plays his finger tips along the outline of the tip and Patrick groans. It’s the hottest fucking sound.

“Fuck, I know…” he gasps, “give me a second. Gonna take care of you.”

Art starts mouthing at his throat again. Sucking. Probably leaving marks. He can’t help himself. He barely notices it when the car stops except for when he feels Patrick’s fingers in his hair. “Oh god. You’re gonna make a fucking mess out of me. You gorgeous fucking thing.” Patrick breathes.

Art finds his mouth. His beard tickles scratchy and soft on Arts bare face. He tastes like honey flavored cough drops and cigarettes. Even the way he smokes is so fucking sexy. Just bored, lazy, casually sexy. Keeps one on his lips while he’s lazily tossing a tennis ball across the court with his racket. Art’s pushing his tongue inside searching all over his mouth, soft and heated. Feels Patrick’s tongue and presses his own against it. Teasing it, licking it while Patrick teases him back. Patrick’s hands are all over him, fingers tangled in his hair.

Art attempts to get at Patrick’s zipper so he can reach his hand inside and feel him for real but Patrick pulls him back when Art starts to moan.

“Fuck,” Patrick whispers, eyes all sparkly, he’s cradling Art’s face in his hands. “You’re so fucking… so fucking bad for me.”

Art licks his lips, gazing into his pretty eyes. “Can I suck it?” Art asks, softly.

Patrick teases his fingers back into his hair. “You ever suck dick before?”

“Mmhm, my friend begged me to in the back of the cab after we dropped off his girlfriend.”

Patrick exhales. “God. You sure do know how to make friends…. Fuck… go ahead… yeah you can suck it.”

Art grins and moves to get on his knees. He can hardly wait. He’s tugging at the zipper, inhaling as much as he can of Patrick’s scent strong, heedy, masculine, nose pressed in his pubic hair as he drags Patrick’s boxers down.

His cock pops out and holy shit, Art’s never had one this big in his mouth. He’s so fucking perfect and full. Art licks at it right away. Almost like if he doesn’t Patrick will change his mind and tell him he’s gotta go home. He does everything he knows how to do. Licks along the underside, pearls of pre-cum are already leaking out and he’s shivering because he knows it’s him that’s fucking causing this. He’s the reason Patrick, his coach, his fucking hot coach is so aroused. He licks at the tip and Patrick groans.

Art starts feeding it into his mouth, taking as much as he can.

“Oh fuck,” Patrick inhales. “Oh sweetheart… it’s… god… take it easy. Fuck.”

“Wanna make you come,” Art says, except he’s talking with his mouth full so it’s probably not even distinguishable as words. He’s swirling his tongue around the tip, his mouth is so full and so wet and he can hear Patrick breathing. Trying not to moan.

Art can’t help himself. He needs to jerk off, he undoes his fly with one hand and reaches into his pants. This is the sluttiest thing he’s ever done. And he’s been pretty slutty. He lets it slip and slide in and out of his mouth, sucking and licking and swallowing till Patrick can’t hold anything back.

“Mm you drive me fucking crazy… flirting with all your teammates and all I can do is watch them play with you…” He groans. Fingers pulling at Art’s hair. It’s not seconds later that Art begins to make a mess in his pants jerking himself to completion as he moans with his mouth full of Patrick’s pulsing cock.

“All that gum chewing, even though I fucking beg you everyday to spit it out before you come to practice. Then you start sucking on your filthy fingers and all I can fucking think about is your pretty pink lips stretched around my… fuck.” He starts coating the inside of Art’s mouth with hot wet liquid. Spurts of it filling him, one after the other as Patrick groans breathlessly and Art swallows as much as he can. He pulls back gasping, skin fever warm, watching some of it drip obscenely from lips onto the console. So much fucking hotter than anything he imagined.

Patrick brushes his thumb over Art’s mouth wiping off the excess come, Art takes the thumb in his mouth looking up at Patrick while he licks at it.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so fucked,” Patrick whispers. He slips his thumb out and takes hold of his cock, it’s flagging a bit but not completely soft yet. He eases it back into his pants.

Art is aware of where they are now. An empty Target parking lot, not far away from campus. He pushes himself up from the floor and scrambles onto Patrick’s lap. He feels the steering wheel at his back, one knee driving uncomfortably into the seat belt holder but it’s worth it for the way Patrick starts rubbing him, reaches into Art’s pants and sighs. “Fuck… You were touching yourself sweetheart?”

“Mmhm,” Art hums. Patrick pulls him into a kiss no doubt he can taste himself and he doesn’t even care. Makes Art just want him even more. “I have wet dreams about you all the time,” Art says giddy against his lips.

“Mm do you?”

“Mmhm. Can I come over?”

“God.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Patrick plays with his t-shirt. ”How many boys have fucked you?”

“You can be my first. I’m a really fast learner.”

Patrick takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes. He rests his head back against the chair. “I’m um— I’m gonna take you home. And you’re gonna be a good boy,” His fingers are under Art’s shirt now, warm fingertips on his bare tummy, playing with the waist band of his boxers. “No more teasing… no more… flirting, especially at practice. And if you’re good… if you’re really fucking good…”

Art bites down on his inevitable grin. “Mmhm?”

“I might be here next weekend. My house might be empty. And I might let you come over.”

“I can be so good for you,” Art says, wiggling on his lap.

“God… you’re so fucking good at that…” Patrick says softly. “That’s exactly the type of behavior that needs to stop.”

Art grins as Patrick grabs at him at the waist and lifts him off his lap onto the empty passengers seat. “Put on your seatbelt.”

“Yes sir,” Art says giddly.

“You’re not going to get anything next weekend, are you?” Patrick mutters pulling the seat up and starting the car.

“Mm not if I can get it tonight and next weekend.” Art grins.

Patrick rolls his eyes, smiling and accelerates out of the parking lot.

[wisteriaiswriting]

Mercs Wearing Lingerie For The First Time

Words: 943

Request: I saw you were taking requests again. Can I suggest the mercs buying lingerie and being nervous about wearing it for their s/o? If not all then maybe Soldier, Sniper and Engineer

Threw in a extra spy for ya!!

I’m sorry but I feel like this man would have absolutely no shame wearing lingerie for his s/o.

There are only a few minor problems, with the main one being; is there any in teufort that will actually fit him?

But once he does find one (Thats red, blue and/or white) he’s ready, taking a little bit of time to set up.

And set up is being real vague honestly. He just changes and stands in the room while calling you over. (Might even come out searching for you)

***

“Solly, what did yo– oh…” Feeling all your blood rush to your face, and in another direction too. “That’s what you called me for.” Making sure the door was shut and locked behind you before walking closer, getting a closer look and feel.

It was a surprisingly nice material, red, white and blue with matching lace. Yeah, this wasn’t lasting long at all. “You did well in battle this week Cupcake, so I got you a reward! Now c’mon, show me you deserve this!”

He knows just a bit more than the above mentioned two, but it’s definitely not by much.

Is roughly in the middle when it comes to shame, isnt that embarrassed but you can tell he is to some degree.

Likely heard Scout talking about it, then decided, for some reason, to get one. He would’ve stopped if he didnt’ feel awkward leaving the store with nothing, so he put a little thought into it.

Would never live this down if anyone knew, so he swears you to secrecy about this. (Would never do this again if you did, but why would you ever do that?)

***

“Yeah yeah Scout, why don’t you go wait for Miss Pauling, she’s meant to come around later.” Very quickly he ran off, letting you continue on where you were going. Wait a second, where were you going?

Thrown out of your thoughts by a familar red laser on the wall in front of you. Knowing that it only came from two guns out here, and only one was able to get this close. Turning to find it was Mick sitting on top of his van, going inside when you started heading over.

“Hey Mick,” Luckily it was you coming over, and that no one wanted to see him or come over with you. “What did ya ne–” Pausing when you noticed a pair of pants dropped on the floor, looking over to see him taking ogg his jacket. Revealing the lingerie underneath.

Blush covering his face and shoulders, “Don’t keep staring Roo.” He didn’t like that, he did this so do something damn it.

God forbid this man doesn’t have a heart attack just looking at it.

He never really thought about lingerie, so he doesn’t put a lot of thought into choosing one, just as long as it fits him then he’s good.

Barely even looks at it before putting it on, but when he does he’ll just kinda stand in the mirror for a good while. Turns out it isnt as bad as he thought but still embarrassing.

Makes sure to have you come over to his workshop when everyone else is asleep, doesn’t want to risk anyone knowing of this.

***

It seemed like hours had passed with Dell just looking at himself in the mirror, while he wasn’t denying the fact the lingerie was cute. It wasn’t really him, but what would be for a merciless mercenary?

Jumping when someone knocked at the door, almost reaching for a nearby jacket and sweatpants. “Hey, uh Dell, you said you wanted to meet me here?” Letting out a breath at your voice, “Give me a minute Darl,” Unlocking the door and standing behind it as you entered, making sure it locked again.

“Was something wrong…” Words trailing off when you looked at Dell, it was almost too much but you knew it was the fact this was new. Having to look away for a few seconds before looking back, taking in everything this time.

How the garters connected the main pieces. The tighter pieces letting fat spill over, especially on his thighs. His hands tugged at the main bodice under your gaze, you couldn’t let him feel uncomfortable or as if you didn’t like this.

Replacing his hands with your own, guiding them under his waistband. “You look so pretty, can I unwrap my present now, please?” “Darlin’ c’mon now, why would I make you wait?”

This man has multiple pieces in his closet and in other storage places, I absolutely cannot be convinced otherwise.

Definitely wore some for missions in his earlier years (And still does occassionally) so he knows that they fit perfectly.

Finds your favourite by a series of questions (Which he doesn’t need to ask most of the time, he just knows you) based on your favourite colour, texture etc.

My man prepares everything perfectly, especially if it's your first time seeing him in it, candles are lit, vintage wine is poured.

***

You didn’t care how awkward this would look to anyone else, cause why would they ever see this?

Your hands roamed over the lingerie sitting flush against Spy’s body, he made sure to get the best as he wouldn’t willingly wear anything less. “Are you enjoying yourself ma chérie?” Too distracted to answer, he just laughed.

Smoothing over anything you could, feeling the different types of lace and materials used. Ribbons holding the back closed, clasps on the garters holding up the tights. They were a light [favourite colour] with matching metal and a darker robe. “No need to answer me, then, I see you are.”

[nerdishpursuits]

I'm sat here perusing various posts and thinking that even when the narrative is developing in a way that's not utterly predicable and the resolution to conflicts is, mostly, decent or satisfactory? There seems to be cause for alarm. Maybe I'm missing something but it baffles me. Now that Pelayo has revealed himself to be gay, there's concern it might actually be a ruse to entrap Marta in his web of deceit. Judging by the looks of him and the revenue of his company, which far exceeds that of Marta's family, it stands to reason this man doesn't need artifice to ensnare a wife. There must be candidates aplenty. Least of all does he need to play the gay-man-card in Franquist Spain. That his motives go deeper than sheer altruism and helping out a fellow misfit in her time of need? Very likely. After all, next episode he tells Marta he has his eyes set on politics. Whether he will try and convince her they both stand to benefit from a lavender marriage, or something else happens that puts one of them, or both, in jeopardy, thus resulting in a union of convenience? All the speculation as of late might be way off the mark, all thanks to some supposed spoiler, unverified and clickbaity. We'll have to wait and see. What's clear is that he is here to stay and his fortunes will become linked with Marta & Fina. I will say, Pelayo's coming-out scene was one I very much enjoyed. Marta lacks friends, especially ones she can be herself around. Doubly gratifying if said friends could also have her back when it comes to the perilous world of business. Especially now that Marta’s position within the company has been weakened by ceding shares to Tasio. So all in all, it was nice seeing both Marta and Pelayo relieved at having stumbled upon an unlikely ally. The mythical unicorn, as it were. Pelayo: I too went to the Uni of Corn Marta: You? Intro to Introverts? I studied under Dr. Sapphis Cunnilingus, SeraFina Valero, class of 1958

That being said? It’s pretty obvious Pelayo’s request that Marta doesn’t reveal his truth to anyone at all, not even esa chica? Will result in some measure of drama. Mafin is well established as a couple and doubting if they love each other is never the issue. Their next hurdle will be one of communication and one which poses somewhat of a moral dilemma: does sharing someone’s secret with your partner, when said person asked you to keep it, a betrayal make? The drama this will stir can be seen from miles away, Legolas style. Marta’s loyalty resides with Fina, no doubt about it. But I'm guessing they will find ways to draw out this narrative and cause tension between them. If well written? It should be entertaining and result in plenty of rewarding scenes.

I also have to say, in all fairness, it irks me that Pelayo referred to Fina as esa chica. It’s obvious he knows who Marta’s partner is (imho, one glimpse at them in Marta’s office and the wheels are turning). But it comes across a tad condescending. I wonder how Fina will take to him initially, but a picnic it won’t be. Fina’s allergic to most men and this one? This one she’ll find particularly irritating. Especially if she doesn’t have all the information. She’s already worried Pelayo has ulterior motives and that Marta might end up paying the price. I will say, I love the fact that Fina’s not jealous, as her trust in Marta is absolute and their relationship has never been plagued by toxicity. What she doesn’t trust is the good intentions of men, especially those who hold information they could use against you.

And now that I’m thinking about it, I do wonder why it’s such a problem for Pelayo that Marta’s partner learns the truth. They’re all in the same boat. They all walk the gauntlet, every day, keenly aware of the dangers their lifestyle exposes them to. Fina wouldn’t betray him. Though I assume, for someone who wants to enter politics? Trusting a stranger to not accidentally spill the beans might prove unwise. In time, he’ll get to know Fina and change his mind - that's a given. I do believe the three of them will ultimately become the best of friends and it will be satisfying to watch them embark upon this journey together. But until then? I expect some drama awaits, right around the corner (also, shout-out to the novelita for adding a gay man to its list of characters: let it not be said we're not getting spoiled) I’ve also been thinking about the garden scenes. They could well have been symbols of Marta and Fina’s new-found freedom. Open space, fresh air, no walls closing in on them. A place they could fence out the world and pretend they could escape it. Alas. Said world is once again closing in on them, presenting them with new limitations to struggle with.

Their freedom has been hard-won but it’s been infringed upon. As such, the garden no longer feels secure or liberating and the scenes have moved indoors. Like a retreat to the tower, after the courtyard has been taken. It should feel somewhat claustrophobic, which it does: Fina worries someone is spying on them, that their beloved sanctuary isn’t the refuge they had hoped it would be. She’s still licking her wounds, weary and mistrusting. And with good reason. Not only has she been through hell and back, but now learns Marta has been on the verge of being sent to prison herself. That she's been exposed in a way that could lead to her downfall. Their downfall. Fina’s worry has as always revolved around something happening to Marta, leading to the loss of the woman she loves. Her anguished “if anything should befall you, it would kill me” is ever telling. And let's not forget this is the second time Fina confesses to this fear. It plagues her nights and waking hours and the show is now emphasizing it. Must be for a reason, because it sounds almost prophetic. I, for one, would like to see something happen to Marta because I’d be curious to watch Fina reacting to that. After all, Fina’s been stabbed, imprisoned and assaulted. Marta’s been spared so far. Let’s see if that changes at some point, in the name of good ol’ fashioned drama.

On a different note. Damián cautioning Marta that this is the life you chose was a good way of addressing Damián’s lingering bias. He has come a really long way and supports his daughter, but he continues to struggle with preconceived notions that don't align with Marta’s truth. Her response to this was perfect too: One doesn’t choose to be who they are.

Lastly. Carmen continuing to infantilize Tasio, absolving him of any and all fault, is laughable. After all, she trusts him as far as she can throw him and it shows. Nevertheless, her over-the-top anger at Marta is a valid portrayal of the type of woman who makes excuses for her husband and demonizes another woman instead. All because she’s managed to fix him and under her care he’s a reformed man. Room to grow for Carmen here, that’s a given. Furthermore, Tasio himself could have shown more backbone and assumed responsibility for his actions but he’s too scared of Carmen’s wrath. The Harridan’s Tale, a book by Carmen Recas. I do look forward to her and Marta patching things up though, which we know they will. Extra points if Fina gets to be a part of that.

[rylem33]

The Man Next Door

Sandra and Chloe sat together on the couch, the noise of the TV humming in the background. Sandra held a mug of tea, wearing a simple cardigan over her favorite blouse. Chloe, dressed in jeans and a cozy sweatshirt, had a textbook open on her lap and a calculator by her side.

“How are classes going?” Sandra asked, setting her tea down.

Chloe exhaled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tough. My calculus professor doesn’t mess around, but I actually kind of love it. It’s so satisfying when the numbers click, you know?”

Sandra smiled warmly. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. You’ve always been good at math.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just math. I’ve got chem lab right after, and it’s been awesome. My group’s working on titrations, and I didn’t mess up once this week!” Chloe grinned, her excitement contagious.

Sandra leaned back, folding her arms. “That’s my girl. Hard work pays off.”

Chloe nodded, flipping a page in her book. “What about you? How’s the new role at work?”

Sandra shrugged, a modest smile on her face. “It’s a lot more responsibility, but it’s nice to feel like I’m moving up. Plus, it’ll help cover your tuition.”

Chloe looked up, her expression softening. “You’re amazing, you know that? Always putting me first.”

Sandra chuckled, nudging her gently. “That’s what moms are for. But don’t sell yourself short, you’re the one doing the hard part.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Chloe said, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “I just hope I can keep up.”

“You will,” Sandra assured her. “You’re a smart kid. Just keep working hard.”

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

The door slammed shut behind Chloe as she walked into the house, dropping her purse onto the kitchen counter.

“Hey, Mom,” she called out, toeing off her shoes. “Did you see the moving truck?”

Sandra glanced up from her spot on the couch, her reading glasses perched on her nose and a paperback in her lap. “It was here earlier. They’ve been unloading all day.”

Chloe grabbed a soda from the fridge and leaned against the door, cracking it open. “Did you see him?”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “Him?”

Chloe grinned. “The guy who moved in. Tall, dark hair, super attractive. I passed him in the driveway.”

“Hmm,” Sandra said noncommittally, turning a page in her book.

Chloe smirked. “You’re not even curious? He looked single. Very single.”

Sandra chuckled, setting the book aside. “Chloe, please. I’m sure he’s half my age and not remotely interested in middle-aged neighbors.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “First of all, you’re not that old. And second, you don’t know that. Maybe he’s into sophisticated women.”

Sandra laughed. “Sophisticated? I’m in yoga pants and a cardigan.”

Chloe shrugged, still smiling. “I’m just saying, he’s cute. You might want to rethink your ‘don’t care’ attitude.”

Sandra leaned back, shaking her head. “How about instead of matchmaking, we come up with something neighborly to do? Maybe take over a welcome package tomorrow.”

Chloe tilted her head, pretending to think it over. “So you can get a better look at him, huh?”

Sandra picked up her book, hiding a smile. “Don’t make me regret this idea.”

“You got it,” Chloe teased. “I’ll pick something up at the bakery after work. Just promise me you won’t embarrass us with those cookies you made last Christmas.”

Sandra gasped in mock offense. “I’ll have you know those were perfectly fine cookies.”

“If you like eating bricks,” Chloe shot back, dodging the pillow Sandra tossed in her direction as she headed for the stairs.

“Tomorrow, Chloe!” Sandra called after her, laughing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chloe replied, her voice fading as she disappeared into her room.

Sandra shook her head, a faint smile still lingering. “Single and attractive,” she muttered to herself, glancing toward the window. “We’ll see.”

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

Sandra set her purse down on the kitchen counter and sighed, leaning against it as Chloe rummaged through the fridge.

“Well, that was… something,” Sandra said, her voice laced with dry amusement.

Chloe emerged with a soda in hand, cracking it open. “What do you mean? He was nice!”

Sandra crossed her arms. “He was polite. But there was something about him. I don’t know. I just felt an odd vibe.”

Chloe laughed, leaning against the counter. “Odd vibe? Come on, Mom. He was perfectly fine.” She paused, winking. “And he was fine.”

Sandra groaned, shaking her head. “Chloe, no. I’m not interested, and I don’t need you playing matchmaker.”

“Why not?” Chloe pressed, grinning. “He’s tall, charming, and looks like he could be in a magazine. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“I noticed that his house is immaculate for someone who just moved in, and that he didn’t say much about himself,” Sandra replied, raising an eyebrow. “It felt… rehearsed.”

Chloe shrugged. “Maybe he’s just good at making a first impression. You’re reading too much into it.”

Sandra picked up a dish towel and started wiping the counter. “Or maybe I’m just not looking to date the mysterious new neighbor.”

“Your loss,” Chloe teased. “If you don’t want him, maybe I’ll take a shot.”

Sandra snapped the towel in Chloe’s direction, laughing when Chloe yelped. “Absolutely not. He’s twice your age, Chloe.”

“Please, Mom,” Chloe said, dodging out of reach. “Thirty-something is hardly ancient.” She smirked. “But seriously, you’re missing out. If you won’t date him, at least admit he’s hot.”

Sandra sighed dramatically, turning back to the sink. “Fine. He’s… handsome. Happy?”

“Extremely,” Chloe said, grinning as she sipped her soda. “So, when’s round two? I’m thinking we bring over wine next time.”

Sandra shot her a look. “There won’t be a round two. He’s our neighbor, not a new project. And I don’t need wine or a man to keep me entertained.”

“Boring,” Chloe sang, heading for the stairs. “But don’t worry, Mom. I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

Sandra shook her head, laughing under her breath. “Please don’t.”

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

The front door creaked open, and Chloe stepped inside, her heels clicking softly on the tile floor. Sandra, seated at the kitchen table with her laptop, didn’t look up at first, but the sound of the door closing made her glance toward her daughter.

“You’re home late,” Sandra said, her tone neutral but sharp enough to imply she was fishing.

“Yeah,” Chloe replied casually, kicking off her shoes. “I was at the library. Study group ran long.”

Sandra leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Funny. The library doesn’t smell like men’s cologne.”

Chloe froze mid-step, then turned slowly, her expression caught between guilt and defiance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “It means I know you weren’t at the library. You were at Peter’s house, weren’t you?”

Chloe’s eyes darted to the side for a moment before she sighed, throwing her purse onto the counter. “Fine. Yes, I was at Peter’s. But it’s not a big deal.”

Sandra stood, her concern bubbling into irritation. “Not a big deal? Chloe, this is the third time I know of. God knows how many more I don’t.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “He’s just helping me with my college work, Mom. He’s really smart.”

Sandra’s frown deepened. “And he doesn’t have anything better to do than help a twenty-year-old with homework?”

Chloe crossed her arms. “Why are you acting like this is some kind of scandal? He’s been nothing but nice.”

“Because it looks inappropriate, Chloe,” Sandra said firmly. “He’s an older man, he’s single, and he’s our neighbor. You’re putting yourself in a situation that’s going to lead to trouble.”

Chloe let out a frustrated laugh. “God, you make it sound so dirty. He’s not some creep, Mom. He’s just… kind of amazing, actually.”

Sandra’s eyes narrowed. “Amazing, how?”

Chloe hesitated, her defensiveness softening slightly. “He’s easy to talk to. He listens, you know? And he’s not like other guys. He’s… confident, but not in a gross way. It’s hard to explain.”

“That’s exactly what worries me,” Sandra said, her voice quieter but no less serious. “He’s a grown man, Chloe. And you’re vulnerable, whether you realize it or not.”

Chloe groaned, rubbing her temples. “Vulnerable? Seriously? I’m an adult. I don’t need you to protect me from every guy who’s nice to me.”

“Peter isn’t just any guy,” Sandra countered. “And I don’t like how much time you’re spending with him.”

Chloe shrugged, turning toward the stairs. “Well, you don’t have to like it, because there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Sandra called after her. “Chloe, don’t walk away from this conversation!”

“I’m done talking, Mom!” Chloe shouted back, disappearing up the stairs.

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

Sandra was stirring a pot of soup on the stove when she heard the front door close. She turned and froze, her eyes narrowing as Chloe strutted into the kitchen. Her outfit left little to the imagination.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” Sandra asked, her tone sharper than intended.

Chloe grabbed her bag from the counter, brushing past her mother with a casual shrug. “Out,” she said simply.

Sandra set the spoon down, crossing her arms. “Out where?”

Chloe sighed loudly, spinning on her heel to face her mom. “Does it, like, matter? God, Mom, why do you always need to know where I’m going?”

Sandra’s eyes narrowed. “Because you’re acting like someone I don’t even recognize. Look at what you’re wearing! When did this become you?”

Chloe smirked, a faint flicker of irritation behind her eyes. “What’s wrong with it? Peter says I should, like, be proud of my body. It’s not a big deal.”

Sandra stiffened at the mention of Peter, her jaw tightening. “Peter again. Everything is Peter this, Peter that. Do you even hear yourself, Chloe?”

Chloe tilted her head, her voice growing defensive. “Yeah, I hear myself. And I’m tired of hearing you! You’re always treating me like a kid.”

“Because you’re acting like one!” Sandra snapped, her voice sharp. “I’ve been trying to talk to you, Chloe, to get through to you, but all you do is shut me out.”

Chloe crossed her arms, her pout deepening. “Maybe that’s because you’re always on my case about, like, everything. I’m twenty, Mom. I’m not some dumb little kid.”

Sandra stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “And spending all your time with a man twice your age, dressing like this, and ignoring everyone who cares about you. Is that’s the kind of ‘grown-up’ you’re trying to be?”

Chloe flinched slightly, but her voice stayed defiant. “Peter actually respects me. Which is, like, more than I can say for you!”

Sandra’s face flickered with hurt, but she stood her ground. “Respect? Chloe, this isn’t respect. He’s taking advantage of you, and you’re letting him.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, gripping her bag tighter. “Ugh, you don’t even know him, Mom. Peter’s so nice. You just don’t get it.”

“I know enough,” Sandra replied coldly.

Chloe sighed dramatically, turning toward the door. “Whatever. Maybe you should, like, stay out of my business for once.”

“Chloe…” Sandra called, but her daughter cut her off.

“I’m done, Mom,” Chloe said sharply, pulling the door open.

Sandra took a step forward, her voice tinged with desperation. “Chloe, don’t you walk out that door. Don’t go to his house.”

Chloe paused in the doorway, turning back with a sly, knowing smirk. “Too late for that.”

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

Sandra stepped into the house, dropping her keys on the entryway table and pausing to slip off her shoes. From the living room, the faint sound of pop music played over the hum of the TV, where Chloe sat perched on the edge of the couch, scrolling through her phone. Her long legs were crossed, barely covered by the micro-skirt she wore, and her tight crop top left little to the imagination.

“Hey, Mom!” Chloe called out without looking up, her voice higher, almost sing-song, as if she’d been practicing a more playful tone.

Sandra hesitated before walking into the room, taking a deep breath. “Hi, Chloe.”

Chloe looked up with a wide grin, twirling a strand of her platinum blonde hair around her finger. “Ooooh, you look nice today, Mom! Is that new?”

Sandra glanced down at her fitted blouse and jeans, a touch more stylish than her usual outfits, and smiled faintly. “No, it’s not new. But thanks.”

Chloe patted the couch next to her. “C’mere! Sit with me!”

Sandra moved slowly, lowering herself onto the cushion. Chloe turned to face her, her makeup heavy and flawless, the faint scent of candy-sweet perfume clinging to her.

“I talked to Peter,” Sandra said after a moment, her voice measured.

Chloe’s grin faltered slightly, but she kept her tone light. “Oh? What about?”

“About… you,” Sandra replied, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Chloe blinked, then giggled nervously. “Mooooom, what’d you say to him? You didn’t, like, embarrass me or anything, right?”

Sandra shook her head, her tone softening. “No, Chloe. I just… I had some concerns, that’s all. About how much time you’ve been spending with him, and how close you’ve gotten.”

Chloe tilted her head, her smile dimming. “Why? Peter’s, like, the best. He’s been soooo nice to me.”

Sandra hesitated. “I know he has,” she said finally. “And he explained a lot. About how he’s been helping you feel more confident, about your schoolwork, even about the way you’ve been dressing.”

Chloe brightened instantly. “See? That’s what I’ve been saying! Peter’s just super smart and knows, like, what’s best for me. He gets me, Mom.”

Sandra nodded slowly. “I think I see that now.”

Chloe gasped, leaning forward and grabbing Sandra’s hand. “Wait, really? You’re okay with it now? For real?”

Sandra hesitated again but nodded. “Yes, Chloe. If you’re happy, then… I’ll try to be okay with it.”

Chloe squealed, throwing her arms around Sandra in an exuberant hug. “Oh my gosh, Mom! This makes me soooo happy! Peter’s gonna be so happy too!”

Sandra patted Chloe’s back awkwardly, the faintest trace of unease lingering in her expression. “I just want you to be careful,” she said quietly as Chloe pulled back.

Chloe waved her off with a laugh. “Careful? Please. Peter takes such good care of me. Like, better than anyone ever has.”

Sandra looked at her daughter for a long moment, noting how her gaze sparkled with pure, guileless excitement, how utterly at ease she seemed with her new persona. “I’m glad you feel that way,” she said at last.

“Thanks, Mom!” Chloe chirped, bouncing up from the couch. She grabbed her phone and swayed toward the door, her skirt riding higher as she moved. “You’re the best! Oh, and Peter and I are hanging out later, so don’t wait up, okay?”

“Okay,” Sandra replied, watching Chloe head upstairs.

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

Sandra was sitting at the kitchen counter with a glass of wine, flipping through her phone when Chloe strutted in, her usual glow brighter than ever. She plopped down next to her mom, a mischievous grin already playing on her lips.

“You’re in a good mood,” Sandra remarked, sipping her wine.

Chloe giggled, leaning her elbows on the counter. “Well, yeah. I’ve been having, like, the best time lately.”

Sandra raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Oh? Should I even ask?”

Chloe leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s Peter. He’s just… oh my God, Mom, he’s sooooo good in bed.”

Sandra choked slightly on her wine, quickly setting the glass down. “Chloe!”

“What?” Chloe said, laughing. “You wanted to know, didn’t you?”

Sandra hesitated, her cheeks coloring faintly. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Well, now you know,” Chloe said with a wink. “And seriously, Mom, you’re missing out. Like, he knows exactly what to do. I didn’t even know I could cum so many times in one night.”

Sandra blinked, her grip tightening slightly on the stem of her glass. “I’m not sure I need all the details, Chloe.”

“Why not?” Chloe said, giggling again. “It’s not like I’m shy about it. Peter’s, like, a total god in bed. Every fucks me, I just… ugh, it’s so good. His dick has ruined me for other guys.”

Sandra’s lips parted, her breath catching for a moment as she tried to form a response. “I… well, it sounds like you’re very… satisfied,” she said finally, her voice quieter than usual.

“Totally,” Chloe said with a dreamy sigh. “Like, I get why you’re so into him, too. He’s just got that thing, you know?”

Sandra’s gaze dropped to her glass of wine, her cheeks warm. “He hasn’t exactly made a move on me,” she admitted, her tone careful.

Chloe gasped, sitting up straighter. “No way! Are you serious? He totally should. I mean, you’re gorgeous, Mom. And he’s, like, so good at making people feel amazing.”

Sandra chuckled lightly, though the sound was tinged with a mix of amusement and something deeper. “Well, maybe he’s waiting for the right moment.”

Chloe smirked, tilting her head. “Maybe you should make the first move. I mean, Peter’s super confident, but even he might be nervous about hitting on you.”

Sandra looked up, her gaze distant as her mind wandered. “I don’t think Peter gets nervous,” she said softly, more to herself than to Chloe.

“Well, if he doesn’t, then you should totally go for it,” Chloe said, nudging her mom playfully. “Trust me, Mom. You won’t regret it.”

Sandra forced a laugh, shaking her head. “I think I’ll leave the chasing to you, Chloe.”

“Your loss,” Chloe said, grinning as she stood up and stretched. “But seriously, Mom. If he ever does make a move, you should totally go for it. He’s… unreal.”

Sandra watched as Chloe strolled out of the kitchen, her confident sway so unlike the shy girl she’d been just months ago. Alone now, Sandra swirled the wine in her glass, her thoughts swirling just as much.

She glanced out the window, where Peter’s house stood silent and dark, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Unreal,” she murmured, the word lingering in the air.

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

Sandra was carefully applying another coat of gloss to her already shiny lips. The light caught the glitter in her eyeshadow, making her gaze pop, and her fitted black dress clung tightly to her figure, barely reaching mid-thigh. Her heels, impossibly high and sleek, clicked softly against the tile as she shifted her weight.

Chloe sauntered into the room, her towering blonde hair styled in perfect waves, and her pink minidress so short it looked more like a top. She carried a small designer bag that swung lazily from her wrist, the clinking of her bracelets accompanying every exaggerated sway of her hips.

“Oh my God, Mom,” Chloe said, her voice light and bubbly. “You look, like, soooo hot right now!”

Sandra turned, giving her daughter a playful smile. “You think it’s too much?”

Chloe’s jaw dropped, and she waved her hands in mock horror. “Too much? Are you kidding? Peter’s gonna, like, die when he sees you.”

Sandra chuckled, smoothing the fabric over her hips. “That’s the plan.”

Chloe plopped onto one of the stools by the island, crossing her long legs and propping her chin on her palm. “I’m soooo proud of you, Mom. It’s, like, totally about time you went for it. Peter’s, like, the best ever. He’s gonna make you feel sooooo good.”

Sandra laughed softly, her cheeks flushing just a little. “You make him sound like a miracle worker.”

“Duh,” Chloe said, twirling a strand of her platinum hair. “He is. I mean, Mom, you’ve seen what he’s done for me. I, like, feel soooo confident and sexy all the time now. Don’t you?”

Sandra hesitated, glancing down at herself before meeting Chloe’s sparkling eyes. “I do,” she admitted. “I haven’t felt this good in years.”

Chloe beamed. “See? I told you he’s, like, magic or something.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “And wait until you, like, get to the fun part. He’s soooo good at making you feel… like, amazing amazing.”

Sandra smirked, her pulse quickening just slightly. “You’re not helping calm my nerves, Chloe.”

Chloe giggled, waving her hand. “Oh, please. You don’t need to be nervous, Mom. Peter’s, like, the nicest guy ever. He totally knows how to, like, take care of you.”

Sandra picked up her clutch from the counter, checking her reflection in the chrome of the refrigerator. “Well, I guess I’ll find out.”

Chloe bounced off the stool and rushed over to her mom, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You’re gonna love it. Trust me, Mom. Just, like, relax and let him do his thing. You’re gonna feel soooo good after.”

Sandra laughed, shaking her head as she headed for the door. “Alright, sweetheart. Wish me luck.”

“Luck?” Chloe called after her, grinning ear to ear. “You don’t need luck, Mom. You’re, like, a total hottie! Peter’s gonna go crazy for you.”

Sandra stepped out into the warm evening, the sound of her heels clicking on the pavement as she crossed the street toward Peter’s house. Chloe leaned against the doorframe, watching her go with an almost giddy expression.

“Go get him, Mom,” Chloe whispered, twirling a lock of her hair as the door closed behind her.

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

Chloe sat cross-legged on the couch, her long legs on full display, her tiny red lace bralette and matching thong leaving almost nothing to the imagination. She twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger, absently chewing gum as she scrolled through her phone.

Sandra reclined beside her, draped in a red silk robe that barely concealed her naked body. Her long legs were propped up on the coffee table, her glossy nails tapping idly against the arm of the couch.

“Ugh, I’m soooo bored,” Chloe whined, tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. “There’s, like, nothing to do.”

Sandra smirked, adjusting her robe and looking over at her daughter. “Tell me about it. Nothing feels worth doing…except for Peter.”

Chloe giggled, leaning back and kicking her legs playfully. “Well, duh, Mom. I mean, what else is there? He’s, like, soooo amazing. Everything’s better when he’s here.”

Sandra’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “Mmm, you’re not wrong, sweetie. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, and I’m about ready to lose my mind.”

Chloe nodded enthusiastically, her gum snapping between her teeth. “Right? He’s, like, sooo perfect. Every time he comes over, it’s, like, the best time ever.”

Sandra chuckled, licking her lips as her gaze drifted toward the door. “I swear, just the thought of him gets me worked up.”

Chloe leaned forward, propping her chin on her hands. “Mom, do you think he’s gonna, like, fuck us again? I loooove when we double-team him. It’s, like, soooo fun.”

Sandra tilted her head, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. “Oh, I’m sure. Peter always knows what we need.”

Chloe giggled again, her cheeks flushing. “Mmm, yeah. He’s, like, soooo good at knowing exactly what I want.”

Sandra laughed, running a hand through her styled hair. “Sweetheart, that man could ask for anything, and I’d give it to him in a heartbeat.”

Chloe tilted her head, looking dreamily at the ceiling. “Same. He’s, like, the best thing ever.”

Before Sandra could respond, a knock echoed through the house. Both women froze for a moment, their heads snapping toward the door.

“Oh my God!” Chloe squealed, springing up from the couch. “Do you think it’s him?”

Sandra’s grin widened, and she stood, adjusting her robe as she moved toward the door. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Chloe bounced on her toes, her excitement palpable as Sandra reached for the handle.

Sandra opened the door slowly, her heart racing as her lips parted into a welcoming smile.

“Ladies,” Peter said smoothly, stepping inside without hesitation. “Miss me?”

Chloe practically squealed, rushing to close the door behind him.

Sandra’s smile deepened, her voice dripping with anticipation. “Always, Peter.”

[basalting]

it takes a village

we did it!!!!! its technically just past midnight where i live but its still the 12th somewhere right (laughs nervously)

day seven of @jasontoddweek2025 - return - outsider POV - crime alley

jason todd & crime alley - threatened sexual assault (no assault occurs), threatened violence against children (no children are harmed) - 3826 words

No one is happy when Red Hood rolls into town.

He’s loud and flashy, he’s dumping heads at the police station and chasing Black Masks boys around. Just another asshole, mucking around in the mess of Crime Alley. It’s just another playground for men like him.

So people keep their heads down, prepare to weather the storm his ambitions bring.

———

Katherine is cursing her life and the subway and fucking professor fucking Morrisen when she carefully walks out of the station. The sun had long since set and her cheap, shitty apartment was a 20 minute long walk in the dark on a Friday night.

Fuck Elias Morrisen and his fucking essay, she thought, if I get stabbed because he wanted to bitch about my homework I’m going to kill him.

Katherine set her shoulders, slotted her keys between her knuckles and set off.

Head down, eyes forward, don’t look or react or stop. Just keep walking until you get where you’re going.

The muggy are was almost oppressive, hanging over her like a shroud as she hurried along. It was just early enough that the first round of rowdy drunks hadn’t been kicked out of bars yet, aside from a few catcalls she’d been ignored.

“What’re you doin’ out late honey?”

Shit. Katherine dared a glance, lurking down an alley were a group of men. As she watched one of them lit a smoke, the flare of the lighter threw the black and white coin emblem on his shirt into view. Two Face’s Halfpenny Boys, Katherine looked away, kept walking.

Mutters burst out behind her as she hurried away, “Hey!” It was the same voice, “I was talkin’ to ya bitch! Where you going so fast? Got some other John to get to?”

The men burst into laughter, she could hear them moving. Getting closer.

She grit her teeth, if there was- Was a store or something. A 7/11, maybe? She could hide out there, at least be somewhere with cameras. Fist clenched tightly around her keys, Katherine sped up - not quite jogging, hoping desperately for something. Why couldn’t she remember where the nearest store was? She’d been at the apartment for months.

“Got somewhere to be huh? Why don’t you wanna have a chat with us? We’re real nice right bo-“

The man behind her stopped abruptly as Katherine slammed into someone. Carefully she looked up, Big. She thought, the man was tall and broad - easily large enough to engulf her entirely. And he was wearing a featureless red helmet.

Red Hood. Fuck.

“H-Hey Hood,” The man called out, “You wanna hang with us?” His voice growing stronger as Hood stood, patiently maybe? The helmet hid his expressions, Katherine tried to force her breathing steady, hoping against hope she could get out of this. “We were gonna have some fun tonight.”

“You with these idiots?”

“W-What?”

“You with them?” Red Hood jerked his chin towards the men behind her, his fists clenched in his gloves, the leather creaking.

Resigned, Katherine shook her head, “No. I’m trying to get home.” The chances of Red Hood doing anything about the Halfpenny boys was low, but there had to of been at least six of them. At least if she went with Hood instead it’d only be him, “I can-“

Red Hood flowed past her, ducking around her smoothly without touching her, and punched the first man in the gut.

“Hey! What the fuc-“

Then he pulled out a handgun, shooting the downed man in the gut. Everyone froze.

“I don’t like it. When little fucks like you, bother nice girls just trying to get home.” Something about his helmet distorted his voice, turned it flat and dangerous. The Halfpenny boys had gone pale and their buddy on the ground was whimpering in pain. Hood pointed the gun at the downed mans head, “Now you can either pick up your trash and get the fuck outta Crime Alley, or I shoot this stupid fuck in the head and then start hunting the rest of you down. I’ll send you back to Two Face in pieces, divisions of two even, cause I’m a nice guy like that.”

“Y-You got it man. We’ll- We’ll go! We promise.” Stuttering apologies a couple of the guys crept forward, hauled their buddy up which made him scream in pain, and dragged him away. Maybe to a clinic, more likely to go bleed out in a gutter somewhere. Katherine let out a shaky breath as Red Hood turned back to her.

She didn’t know what he’d want from her, why he’d stepped in at all. Most people wouldn’t of, those men had been packing heat. He didn’t come any closer, just tucked the, still loaded, gun into the holster almost hidden by his jacket.

“Sorry about that.”

It would’ve been absurdly casual from anyone else, the helmet and distorter made it intimidating. “’S fine.” She said quickly, “Can I… Go?”

Hood nodded, body language open and casual, almost non-threatening. Which was wild to see from a guy who’d just (probably) mortally wounded someone and threatened another five.

“You get home safe miss.”

Miss. She thought dazed, A gangster just called me ‘miss.’

“Sure, uh, thanks Mr Hood. For the save.”

Before he could do anything else weird, or before he could reveal he’d been lulling her into a false sense of security and threaten to shoot her too. Katherine hurried away, her roommates were not going to believe her about this shit.

———

Alicia Montgomery had lived through the evolution of Park Row to Crime Alley, had seen the hookers and gangsters and dirty cops. The way all those fancy politicians had turned away from Park Row as if they would all stop existing if they kept their eyes closed. Well Alicia Montgomery kept her damn eyes open.

She’d walked these streets since she was a little girl, met her Peter here - fool of a man who fell and damn near broke his ankle in front of her. When she’d asked him if he was alright, he’d just stared at her, then told her he’d tripped falling for her. They’d skipped school to sit on a fire escape, just talking for hours. She’d loved that man every day of her damn life, married him and raised three beautiful children with him and buried him too young.

Park Row had done it’s damnedest to chew her up and spit her out, but Alicia was Gotham born and bred and she wasn’t an easy woman to push around. She’d seen the strange and the explainable and the frankly bizarre. But it was still something to look up from where she was sitting on her front stoop to see what’d scared her pigeons away, and see the newest in the line of thugs looking to rule Park Row across the street with some of his Red Hood gang members picking up trash.

For a long moment Alicia just blinked at them, but there they were, bold as brass and all. Red Hood in his stupid helmet with a black plastic bag and a bright yellow sharps container on his belt. Picking up trash.

Something, morbid curiosity maybe, made her slowly rise up. The birds she fed had flown off anyway and she’d been almost out of food for today anyway, it might not hurt, to take a closer look.

The streets and alleys of Park Row were always filled with trash, if any of those costumed idiots wanted to steal a garbage truck without it being noticed than they’d inevitably end up taking one of the few that still went to Park Row. Most people knew they either had to haul their trash to the dumpsters behind stores, which had a better chance of being picked up, or if you had a car, take it to the dump yourself. A lot of people chose to do neither and just dumped their trash wherever they liked.

A couple of Hood’s people stiffened as she approached, it was almost flattering, that they thought an old woman like her would be able to do anything to a man with Red Hood build. But well, you didn’t need to be strong to use a gun, she supposed.

A short woman with a burn scar twisting the skin of her jaw and neck narrowed her eyes, muttered something to Red Hood and he turned to her. His red helmet was smooth and featureless, no indication of any facial features and nothing to show that he could hear or see her.

“What are you doing?” A few of Hood’s people jerked when she spoke, at least three people dropped their hands to some sort of concealed weapon. Alicia kept her eyes on Hood’s helmet, waited to see how he’d react.

Hood raised a hand, motioned for the others to go. With a ripple of grumbling they spread out, snapping on gloves and shaking out garbage bags. The burned woman stayed close, stepping back to lean against a wall pretending to be absorbed in her phone. Alicia had no doubt that if she made any moves the woman didn’t like, she’d end up with a bullet in the head. There’d been a lot of gang leaders in Park Row, in Gotham as a whole, and none of them had ever done something like this, not even when they were pretending to be on the straight and narrow.

What was Red Hood up to?

“We’re cleaning up,” Red Hood said, his helmet turned his words strange and robotic, aesthetic or necessity? Alicia wondered. “This is the second block, we’ll haul all this shit to the dump. Get it a little cleaner for everyone.”

Alicia hummed, looked up at him in his fancy gear with his fancy helmet and his robot voice. “None of the gang leaders before have cared about the trash before,” She said, more statement than accusation. “What do you get outta cleaning up?”

Hood’s head tilted, weak sunlight making the smooth, glass like surface of his helmet glow, “I live here too ma'am.”

Simple, humble, ‘I live here too.’

Alicia was too Gotham to believe in faith, to trust anyone so easily. But there was something about this boy, and he had to be a boy her intuition screamed it to her, she could see why the burned lady was so protective. She smiled, reached out slowly to gently pat his muscled forearm,.

“Well then, gimme a minute to get into some working clothes and I’ll come help you young folk out.”

Hood jolted, “You don’t have to, we’ve got it handled. We can-“

“Young man.” Her voice was firm, “I do have to, after all,” She squeezed his wrist gently, “I live here too.”

Then she turned and hurried across the street, it could still be a scheme, a ploy of some kind. But for today the Red Hood was here, cleaning Park Row up in a way no gangster or vigilante or politician had bothered to do since she was a little girl. And she’d be damned if she didn’t lend a hand.

———

Ye-jun was late, his beloved daughter Ha-eun had woken up with an ear ache. Which meant she woke up screaming and crying inconsolably, she’d fought him with all her two-year-old might when he forced the drops into her ears. Even now, almost 40 minutes later, she was letting out soft hiccuping sobs into his chest as he rushed down the street to work.

Her daycare wouldn’t take her until she had a doctors note proving she wasn’t sick and even if they would’ve taken her, the daycare was on the other side of the Bowery. He’d be almost 3 hours late for work if he took her at this time.

“Appa,” Ha-eun whimpered as a car honked furiously, her little hand coming up to hover over her sore ear. “It’s loud.”

“I know baby,” He murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her hair as he waited for the light to change. “We’re almost at Daddy’s work, you can have a nap in the office okay?”

Ha-eun sighed deeply, sunk heavier into his arms. Not for the first time since he’d woken to a screaming toddler, Ye-jun missed Val. Also not for the first time, he cursed the thief that had decided the change from her register was unsatisfactory, and made Valerie pay for it with her life. Don’t think about it. He told himself firmly, Just focus on getting through the day. Ha-eun needs you.

“Sorry I’m late,” Ye-jun called out, cradling the back of Ha-eun’s head as he rushed into the small office at the ship yard.

“Gene!” Joel yelled happily, Ye-jun forced down a wince. Joel had hired him years ago and, after Val, had told him to bring Ha-eun to work whenever. It was worth having their names butchered to keep this job, a lot of people had it a lot worse than him. “How’s little Hay-yoon, huh?”

Joel roared with laughter, making Ha-eun start to whimper. Ye-jun needed Joel to leave, Ha-eun was already overstimulated. The last thing any of them needed was for her to throw a tantrum and scream the whole office down around their heads.

“Still got an ear ache,” Ye-jun winced with a fake laugh, bouncing her gently in his aching arms. “She’ll probably go down for a nap soon so I can get the arrivals all logged before she wakes up.”

“No rush, no rush.” Even attempting to be quiet Joel was uncomfortably loud, but Ye-jun appreciated the effort. “I’ll get outta your hair and let you handle all… that.”

Joel shot the clunky computer Ye-jun used for work an almost frightened look, technologically inclined, Joel Watson was not. And then finally, finally the office door closed behind him and it was just Ye-jun and Ha-eun and the old ceiling fan that clicked with every spin.

Ye-jun turned on the computer and then focused on getting Ha-eun set up while it loaded everything. From his duffel bag he pulled out some snacks, her water bottle, several colouring books and Chi-chi - her bright red Clifford the dog plushie.

Hidden behind his desk was a small bean bag and bookshelf, the top three shelves had Ye-jun’s work supplies. Folders of approved shipping accounts, meticulous notes of containers received and departure times and a copy of every law, mandate and advisory the Gotham City council had released regarding the ports for the last 8 years, ready to be referenced.

This job wasn’t glamorous, wasn’t exciting or even very challenging outside of the sheer volume of work he had to do, but it kept his daughter with a roof over her head and food in her belly and that was all he could bring himself to care about.

Hours later Ye-jun rubbed his aching eyes, so far he’d managed to avoid the Asian stereotype of needing glasses but the strain of squinting at ship numbers on a database was making him feel like he’d need them sooner rather than later.

Ha-eun was sleeping, worn out from playing and colouring, tucked into a the gap he’d made between the wall and an old filing cabinet. He’d brought a spare quilt and pillow from the apartment and Ha-eun delighted in making a little nest for herself and Chi-chi. He was just considering getting up for a stretch and checking on her when the office door slammed open, Ye-jun flinched back, staring at the broad figure in the doorway. Dark pants, brown leather jacket, and a bright. Red. Helmet.

“Red Hood…”

“And I don’t even need an introduction.”

The man’s voice was harsh, robotic; that featureless helmet tilted. Beneath it, he must of been looking around the room. Please, Ye-jun thought, Please Ha-eun stay asleep. Please, please, please don’t be noticed.

“What- What do you want?” His voice shook, Ye-jun kept himself stiff. He couldn’t look towards where Ha-eun was sleeping, had to hope Red Hood wouldn’t notice the bean bag.

“I need information on a shipment Eugene, and since our friend Mr Watson wasn’t very helpful for me, I’ve come to you.” Red Hood put a hand on his hip, showing off the holstered gun. “Think you can help me Eugene?”

Licking his lips, Ye-jun stuttered out, “Wh-What shipment are you…?”

“Some asshole looking to stir the pot shipped a fuck ton of fear toxin tainted drugs into Gotham from this ship yard, and I need to know who Eugene.”

“What?” Fear toxin filled drugs? Jesus, things were bad enough when Scarecrow got out. The thought of people high and driven out of their minds with fear made him shiver. “I- I have shipping manifests but. It’s not like they just put drugs on the damn things when they fill them out!”

In a swift, almost too fast to catch movement, Red Hood had the pistol aimed at his head. The words died in Ye-jun’s throat, Red Hood’s voice was a low growl when he spoke. “Someone in this stupid little shipping yard has the info I need, so you can either give me what you have… Or I take it.”

If he kills you, what will happen to Ha-eun? Ye-jun thought, Val was an orphan and Umma and Appa are on the other side of the fucking country. If you die, she’ll be alone.

Despite himself, despite knowing he shouldn’t, Ye-jun’s eyes darted to the hollow where Ha-eun was sleeping. Red Hood spun on his heel, stalked towards the file cabinets.

“Wait!” Ye-jun gasped, terror a living thing - clawing up his throat. “I can- I can show you my files. It’s on the computer!”

He flung himself forward, clipping the corner of the desk with his hip. The pain was faint, drowned under desperation. Red Hood hadn’t even twitched, gloved hand reaching for the filing cabinet as the other hand swung up to point the gun at him again. The top drawer of the cabinet was ripped open with a screech, Ye-jun stepped closer - ignoring the gun.

And Ha-eun lurched up from her nest, hair messy and eyes mostly closed.

“Appa,” She groaned, “Ear hurts.”

Red Hood froze, helmet tilted down to where Ha-eun was rubbing her face with her fists, one of Chi-chi’s ears clenched in her hand. “Please,” Ye-jun whispered, “Please, please don’t hurt her.”

Ha-eun looked up at Red Hood’s looming figure, squinted at his bright red helmet, looked down to squint at Chi-chi’s bright red fur. Held Chi-chi up.

“Chi-chi?”

“What.” Red Hood growled.

“Chi-chi.” Ha-eun said firmly, awkwardly climbing out of the blankets. Ye-jun snatched her up, tucking her into his side as she whined to get down, watching Red Hood carefully.

“I don’t know anything about any drugs,” He said quickly, “Check my computer and the logs, I just review footage and confirm arrivals and departures. I don’t know anything.”

Red Hood kept his helmet turned towards them, Ha-eun squirmed, grunting with the effort of trying to get out of his arms.

“Sit down,” Red Hood’s voice was still harsh and robotic but the knife edge of violence in his body language was gone. “I don’t hurt kids Eugene, I’ll find what I need and go.”

Slowly, Ye-jun backed up, sinking down into his desk chair again. He kept an eye on Red Hood, even as the man seemingly dismissed them and focused on a file he’d just pulled out.

“Appa,” Ha-eun said, voice rising into a whine as she tugged on her red ear, “Hurts.”

“I know baby,” He whispered, dragging over the bag, “I’ll give you your drops.”

Ha-eun lent into his chest with a huff, letting him stroke back her hair while he carefully squeezed out the medicated drops. On the other side of the room, Red Hood didn’t react to any of the noises, just dropped the file on top of the cabinet and pulled out another one. Ha-eun smacked Chi-chi into his chest, “Chi-chi too.”

“Is Chi-chi’s ear sore too?”

“Uh-huh,” Ha-eun nodded, kicking her legs, “Extra, extra sore.”

Under her watchful eyes, Ye-jun put the capped bottle of drops in Chi-chi’s ears, Ha-eun pulled the plush in close running her hands over it’s fur. Then she pointed at Red Hood, “Big Chi-chi too, Appa.”

He choked, lashing out to grab Ha-eun’s arm to pull it down before Red Hood noticed.

“Why,” Ye-jun tensed but Red Hood’s head was angled down, looking at Ha-eun, “Why am I Chi-chi too?”

“Cause you’re red.” She said it like it was obvious, brandishing Chi-chi to Red Hood’s helmet.

“Guess you’re right.”

The silence was almost… Awkward, as Red Hood blatantly stuffed the three folders into a bag he’d kept tucked close to his side. “It- The name on these files is Ye-jun,” He felt a small burst of surprise at the clear pronunciation, despite the robotic voice filter. “Is that-?”

“It’s my name,” Ye-jun said cautiously, “Joel just thinks it’s easier to call me Gene so…” He almost wanted to shrug, almost wanted to laugh. Why would a crime lord care about a small time ship yard admin worker having his name mispronounced?

Red Hood grunted, the sound turned strange by his voice filter, and shoved the filing cabinet drawer closed.

“Anyway,” Red Hood nodded at them both, stomping towards the door, “Thanks Ye-jun, sorry about-“ He waved a hand, gesturing at the office in general, “I believe you that you’re not involved with this, if you aren’t - you shouldn’t see me again. If you are,” Red Hood casually rested a hand on the holstered gun, “you will.”

With that the man stomped out the door, Ye-jun followed him to the door, less out of politeness and more to make sure he actually left. The entire afternoon felt insane, he wasn’t entirely sure why they hadn’t been killed. What kind of crime lord apologised for getting someone’s name wrong?

“Bye Chi-chi!” Ha-eun yelled, waving and flinging Chi-chi around as she did so. Red Hood hesitated and then, almost awkwardly, waved back before disappearing around a corner. Ye-jun slumped back against the door frame, weak kneed with relief.

“You’re an angel,” He whispered to Ha-eun, pressing kisses to her cheeks, “And Umma is definitely watching over you.”

Ha-eun giggled, pressed a big, slobbery kiss to his cheek and then beamed. “I like big Chi-chi, can he come tomorrow too?”

“Um, no. Sorry baby, b-big Chi-chi,” Ye-jun choked slightly at calling a fucking crime lord ‘big Chi-chi,’ “Is too busy to come tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She frowned, “Can I draw him a picture? For when he comes back?”

Ye-jun sighed, surrendered and said “Yeah baby, you can draw big Chi-chi a picture.”

Still alive, cradling his still alive daughter, Ye-jun went back to pack up his bag. Fuck work, they were going home.

[ornii]

Oh, the Misery Part 6: “I’m here for You, Powder.”

Part 6

The Last Drop, the burdened building that has literal skeletons in its closet. A man was tending the empty bar. His simplistic but fun train of thought was cut off by a voice.

“Chuck!”

“Chuck”, gasped and turned around, his eyes quickly tracing the bar to a girl, Jinx. She was sitting at the counter playing with a blue Hextech crystal.

“Thieram. Uh... My name's Thieram.” He said, but Jinx smirked.

“Nice try, Chuck. What's all the hubbub?” She tilts her head, Chuck takes Jinx’s favorite cup out and pours into it, hand shaking.

“Uh. Boss wants us to grab someone up.” Chuck says, his eyes not able to meet Jinx’s who fiddles with her Hextech orb.

“Someone? Anyone? Who are you grabbing?” She asked

“Some girls and a guy. I mean, I mean not... I'm not grabbing the girls. Oh, other than the... those ones... I guess.”

“Focus. Who are they? Why wasn't I invited to the party?”

“Uh, I don't know. They... they got in a fight with Sevika. They did a number on her.”

“Oh really? Which number?” Jinx was an oddball, unhinged and her direct and sokehow indirect questions somehow.

“It's like a saying— but the person who fought her, someone said he had a metal arm.” Chuck said, Jinx’s fun attitude for a moment halts, his eyes dilated for a moment, and she quickly puts the mask back on. Disbelief filling her brain. he starts to explain to her, but Jinx decides to give him a biiiig hug.

“You're doing great, Chuck. Here, for your troubles.” She let him go and leaves with her cup. Chuck felt and heard the ticking and panicked, one of Jinx’s bombs was on his back. He panicked and thought his life was over. Only for it to explode with Pink Paint.

Deep in Zaun, (Y/n) was getting hauled up a cliff side to avoid Silco. Vi was carrying him as he attempted to stay on his feet. Caitlyn had her rifle, taking a more serious approach, staying in front of the two in case something or, someone.. were to intervene.

“Silco's goons aren't far behind. We have to keep moving.” Caitlyn turned around to them, Vi looked around and noticed the Neon sign.

“Is it still here?” Vi asked, “What?” Cait replied but Vi shook her head. “Never mind, just help me to the edge. We gotta get down there.” She said, Vi helps (Y/n) over to the ledge.

“Okay, Can you get down on your—“ Vi asked, (Y/n) didn’t hesitate and leapt. His metal arm jams into the wall and slides down. He leaped to a scaffold but missed the beam and tripped and rolled on the ground, hard. Cait looked a bit worried, Vi shook her head, angry. “Shit!” Vi leapt down after him, and Cait took a more cautious route.

As This happens, Sevika returns to Silco’s office after catching a generational ass kicking. She barged into the office, with the chair’s back facing the door.

“We lost them…” she said, and the figure who turned around wasn’t Silco. It was jinx.

“Lost who?” She said, Sevika stepped up to fight, but triggered a trip wire that filled the room with gas. Quickly losing consciousness, Sevika stumbled around as Jinx put on a gas mask, watching the lights in Sevika go out. She awakens, strapped to a chair. And Jinx sitting on the desk, smiling.

“I feel like you and I got off on the wrong… arm. Maybe we should try the other.” She said, with the simplest of threats.

“No need. It's your sister and brother. They’re back. And he’s looking for you.” Devils spoiled the surprise, that unhinged aura reverberated though Jinx.

“It's not what you think. He’s with some girl enforcer. Guess they replaced you.”

“You're lying!” Jinx was beside herself, deep unfiltered breaths.

“Why bother? With them back in town, it's only a matter of time before you implode and Silco finally gets the message that you're about as good for our cause as you were for your family…” Sevika pours salt into the wound, Jinx looks ready to cry, until she laughs and kicks sevika back.

“Ten outta ten, toots! I think I know just how to deliver that message…” Jinx spins Sevika around and a very uncomfortable smile was on Jinx’s face.

(Y/n) finally opens his eyes. Pain still in his side as he laid on the cold hard ground. His eyes are a haze but two figures are over him. Vi and Cait.

“Do You realize his dumb that was?” Cait says, and looked around. She noticed the lack of light but tents. Caitlyn saw the movement of, bodies somehow. Covered, their bodies malformed and ragged. The after effects of Shimmer.

“What is this place?” Cait was horrified at what this was, Vi walked up next to her.

“It's where the kind of people you topsiders don't want to think about, wind up. It was never this big, though.” She said, Vi turned around and pointed to an old house that stood under the scaffolding of a neon sign, “There.” She walked over and helped (Y/n). Up and walked him into the run down building, lacked any furniture or other equipment. Vi laid him against a wall, and on a crate. Vi knelt down, (Y/n) hasn’t made any joke of self deprecating humor. It’s serious. His breathing was more labored, strained. Cait watched Vi put pressure on the wound but it isn’t doing much.

“I know you have your reservations about me, but this only works if we can trust each other.” She said, “He’s going to die if we don’t—“

“It doesn't work. It never has. You topsiders always find a way to screw us.” Vi’s response was cold, the only thing they had in common was (Y/n), the glue holding their unstable team together.

“I suppose topside is to blame for all your misfortunes.” Cait says. Vi looked around her old home, and painted on drawings on the wall. Things powder did.

“No…Not all of them.” She replied, a look of guilt washed over her face. Caitlyn reached into her backpack and took out a rag and handed it to her.

“We aren't monsters, you know. We're people, just like you.” She tried to reach an understanding between them, but Vi still isn’t as trusting as (Y/n).

“You don't know anything about me…” Vi scoffed, but she took the rag and pressed it against his wound. (Y/n) opened his eyes, He blinked. He saw Vi but looking at Cait reminded him of, someone The soft, delicate features of a woman, emerged before him, her face illuminated with the gentle glow of memories long past. Her golden hair framed her face like sunlight breaking through clouds, and her familiar smile radiated warmth he hadn’t felt since childhood. The woman smiled at (Y/n) so warmly, Lost in a daze (Y/n) could only mutter one word.

“…Mom?” He whispered in his delusion. Vi was surprised, he almost never ever utters that word. Cait was slightly surprised by it. Vi put his hand on hers and leaned in. “Can you hear me? It’s gonna be okay.” Vi held on tight, Cait took a moment to step out of the building, mainly to check for anyone who knows they’re here. She stepped out for a moment, and a scraggly voice whispered.

“Is he all right?” Cait heard and turned around swiftly, rifle aimed at someone’s face, a man with glasses and the affliction of shimmer. He was a local to the last drop, a pair of cracked glasses.

“Wait, wait, wait! Easy. Easy. That's (Y/n) and Vi, right? I'm a friend. Or at least I was. I mean, I... I owed his old man my life. Probably more than that. I guess.” He explained, Cait slowly lowered her rifle, but kept her head on a swivel.

“He’s bleeding. He needs a doctor.” Sje said sternly. The man sighed

“Not so simple to come by around here. Oh, oh. But, ah, I do know someone else who might be able to help. Come with me.” He motions for her to follow though the decrepit undercity, and Cait follows with little choice left. They reach the end of the alley and to a shop. Barred off they await as a shadowing, massive figure creeps out of the dark, not human.

“Ailment?” The being asked. Its eyes lock onto Caitlyn who didn’t know how to respond at first.

“Uh... Uh... he’s been stabbed.” Cait said, the Shopkeeper snarled and crept into the darkness. Dark colors shine faintly in the light as beakers and bottles sound, shake, and echo.

“She makes potions. Helps people here with...with this.” The man revealed his face to Cait, the disfigured man man’s body was malformed due to the side effects of shimmer.

“Shimmer. Why would you take something that does that to you?”

“I just... wanted to feel what it was like...

To be somebody. To make other people afraid. Instead of—“ he wished to elaborate but the Shopkeeper was done. They crept to the barred window with the vial.

“Trade.” They spoke, Cait considered her options and didn’t have much in terms of value. Caitlyn used the only thing she had, she unloads her rifle and places it down on the counter as her trade. The shopkeeper growled and poured a drop of shimmer in the vial. It glows with a haunting aura and they trade. Cait takes the vial happily.

“Thank you, I really—“ the Shopkeeper slams the window shut, leaving Cait a bit shocked, but regardless.

“Let's go. I think Vi will be happy to see a friendly face.”

“No, no. You go ahead. They knew me when I was still...Anyway, I don't want them to see me like this. Just tell (Y/n).., uh, tell him I'm sorry. About everything, about his father..” the man crept back into the darkness, leaving Cait to consider much. She returned back to the house as (Y/n) was holding on, taking deep breaths. Vi opened his mouth and poured what the shopkeeper concocted. A surge of pain and unease washed over him, manic he sat up but felt Vi’s palms grip his cheekbones. His eyes locked with hers as he tried to catch his breath. “Easy, easy, easy. You’re okay.. look at me, you’re okay.” She reassured him as he regulated himself, he stood up, still a bit dazed.

“We needed you back on your feet. What was the name Sevika gave you? Jinx?”

“Yeah. No idea who though, Vi?” He asked, for a moment he saw a tinge of guilt in her eyes, but Vi shook her head. “No.”

“Then I guess we keep looking?” (Y/n) asked, feeling his body return to normal. They stepped outside and were caught, Vi’s eyes locked with Silco, who stood with a few of his goons.

“Vander's prodigy. I've regretted that we never had the opportunity to speak.” Silco kept his eye on Vi, as he hands a vial of Shimmer to the man who “Helped” Cait, rats.

“What have you done with my sister?” Vi stepped closer.

“I've freed her. Candidly, I thought you were the prize of your bundled family. But Jinx... Oh. She is more than I ever imagined.”

“I'm gonna find her and erase whatever fucked-up delusions you put in her head. But first, I'm gonna bring your bullshit empire down all around you.”

(Y/n) finally stepped out of the house, he and Silco are finally face to face. “The Child of Wonder..” Silco said with such sarcasm. It’s been years since they saw each other. (Y/n)’s older, grizzled, and now has a damaged eye, just like—

“Silco.” (Y/n) could only make out a growl. “I’m going to put you in the dirt.. with all the other maggots and worms!” he stormed over, but Silco stepped back.

“You don't know your limits, boy. It's what got Vander killed. What drove Powder away. And it's why I'm here right now.” Silco hands the shimmer to the people, and they consume. “The only good thing of this mess… your mother never had to see what your father became, a coward.” Silco’s words were the catalyst. (Y/n) aimed his arm in rage, his eyes locked dead on Silco, ready to kill him. For a moment, time slowed down and he had a choice, the shimmer victims were transforming and they wouldn’t survive a fight with them.

“One day.. I’m going to watch the light leave your eyes, but not today..”

(Y/n) aimed downward and fired. The shockwave impact causes a small quake on the earth. The shaking finally pushes the sign and scaffolding past the limit, and it falls, tipping towards Silco and his monsters. The trio use this to escape, rushing away to abound being crushed by the overwhelming force of the rubble. Climbing out of the Hell they created itself, Vi, Cait and (Y/n) try to recover on the cliffside. Vi looked up to the sky and something caught her eye, a blue flare flew into the sky. Vi knew what that meant, and rushed to the origin. “Vi? Vi!” (Y/n) stumbled up and gave chase, and So did Cait.

Rushing and leaping though Zaun and its rural inhabitants and residents made it a bit of a slog though it, but (Y/n) kept on Vi’s tail, trying to see just what has her so perplexed. It wasn’t until she hit a corner and he did a few second after that he saw it. In the middle of a tower, the one firing the Flare, powder. His eyes adjust to what he’s seeing and he slowly approached Vi and Powder. Vi lets go of her sister and Powder finally sees him.

“Powder?” He whispered, and walked over, his legs heavy but though sheer anxiety and will (Y/n) moved to her.

“Are.. are you real?” She asked, reaching out and touching his face. “Yeah, it’s me Munchkin.” He hugged powder and vi tightly. For a moment, it was real. He lets go and sighed, trying to hold back tears

“Powder, I’m so sorry I.. I should have been here, for you. For you two Vi I… it’s okay now, we have to get you—“ he starts, and Cait arrives, and all Hell broke loose. Powder immediately stepped back, Gatling gun in hand.

“Who's she?” She says. Vi and (Y/n) try to play the middle men.

“It's okay. She's a friend.” (Y/n) stepped a bit closer to Jinx.

“Sevika wasn't lying? You're with an enforcer?” Jinx grits her teeth, and Caitlyn leans in a bit.

“Your sister is Jinx?”

“Caitlyn, just listen, we can work this out.” Vi then turns her attention to Caitlyn but (Y/n) was confused, “Wait.. Did you call Her Jinx?” He begins to piece it together now.

“This is a trick! You're playing me!” Jinx was losing what cool she had left, talking to people who aren’t there. “Shut up! I'm in no mood.”

“We didn't say anything.” Cait starts.

“I wasn't talking to you!”

“Powder, it's okay.” (Y/n) stepped closer, and Jinx lifts the Gatling Gun. “Stop calling me that. It's Jinx now. Powder fell down a well.”

“What are you talking about? You’re powder! You’ve always been powder!” He got a bit worried. “Just put down the gun and—“

“Stop talking to me like I'm a child! Was that why you came? For this stupid stone?”

“What stone? Powder! I'm here for you. We’re here Only for you.” (Y/n) grips her wrist as she holds the gun, fear, confusion, pain in her eyes. Before they continue, a sound echoes from metal and the four look around, they weren’t alone. Green hue emerges from one of the tunnels and it was someone riding what looks to be a hovering board. Multiple of them arrive and set theit sights on the four of them.

“Cait? Gun!” He said, she bit her lip a bit. “I.. sold it.”

“You what?” (Y/n) was a bit perplexed. “Medicine, for you!” She replied, that guilt hit (Y/n) and he didn’t have much time to consider it, as they attacked, whoever they are. Jinx immediately railed up her gun and fires, bullets dance and hit along the steel and brick to a psychotic laughter, (Y/n) ducks under one swing by a rider and uses his pulse arm to blast one right off its board. He effortlessly kicks them off the tower and to a lower railing. Vi and Cait do their best but everyone is getting overwhelmed but also trying to abound getting turned into Swiss cheese by Jinx.

A pair fly at him from different directions, he blocks one pipe swing but gets one to the back of the leg, he rolls out of the way of another and stands up, he ends up back to back with powder. One big rider was going for them both. They give each other a look, Jinx laughs and fires at the ground, letting all the debris and dust kick up, the Rider avoids any gunfire but once he comes out of the smoke, he gets a nasty clothesline line. (Y/n) quickly picked up the board and hurled it at another, hitting their board and making it slowly crash into a wall as they roll off into a small pile of scrap metal. (Y/n) was ready to keep going, but someone leapt on his back, trying to choke him. He used his weight and fell back, slamming the person down. out of breath they let go and he quickly goes full Mount. Before he can land a single strike, another rider attempt to choke him with a pipe. While one blasts an unknown smoke in his face, coughing badly, (Y/n) pushes them off but it’s not enough. He falls back, slowly losing consciousness as Jinx’s manic shooting echoed in his thumping eardrums, he sees her face, they lock eyes once more and a look of rage was on her face and she fired at them for what they did. That wasn’t powder, that wasn’t the little girl he knew so long ago, all he saw was a maniac, a loose cannon.

A monster.

Those thoughts lingered, until it all went black.

[loveveil]

I have so many thoughts about Cantos 6-7-8 as a matching trifecta of interweaving themes, and my one friend that's into the series just got back into it and is on canto 5. I can only hold readers in my author's notes hostage for so long, so congrats on this being my first personal post on tumblr in literal years.

Maybe I'll start using this site more than just poking around tags when I'm bored.

Anyways

Been thinking a lot about how 6-7-8 involve sinners that the most likely to be brushed aside due to surface level factors in canon and by the fandom. Now, everyone goes through some degree of being mischaracterized by people, and all the Sinners have Hidden Depths (tm), but I find these three are the most susceptible. Rodya as well but that's a whole different story entirely and she's doing it on purpose anyway. They also have the most jarring pasts to contrast how they are now, so far at least.

Like of course, hindsight 20/20 and there's only so much you can do with characters that don't want to share their past or you know don't remember about their past to share, but it's so fascinating to me. I also find these three to be the most emotionally intelligent out of everyone. I am connecting dots frantically and waving string around if you can't tell.

It was so easy to write Heathcliff off as "just one of those guys" which I can't blame anyone for because he really did not make it easy, (I love him but I'm biased about Wuthering Heights) but then the Sinners are forced with the uncomfortable truth that Heathcliff was abused and looked down on his entire life and that's why he's the way he is. Of course, he's going to snark back and get angry if you start poking at him when you're getting close to parroting the same things as his abusers.

They almost lost Don Quixote and the fact that she had to go "oh now you want to listen to my stories" was such a good moment to me. I don't think everyone brushed her aside before then, but it happened enough to make note of; it effected her. Her feelings were probably hurt! The being basically told "now you start caring when it's dire," makes me wonder if they'll start being more consciences of each other in general. Everyone saying nice things to her at the end felt so campy in a good way but also like "oh man we gotta something nice right now!!" I'm begging everyone to please care about each other. Y'all are giving me secondhand embarrassment.

Hong Lu is a different beast entirely because he doesn't want to talk about his family in depth. He plays into the naive rich kid thing well, at first anyway, so it's easy to brush him off. I can't say much about him in general because no canto yet, but I believe he is also playing a role a he wholeheartedly believes in. He too is tied to a filial piety he cannot escape perhaps (I wanted bloodfiend ID for hong lu so bad they hate me). He will just mention horrific things and go on like it's no big deal, and the conversation has moved on before anyone can call him out on it. Him deciding to be the most candid with Rodya was definitely a choice; I like it. Whoever decides to call him out on his horrific upbringing one day, I wish you luck. I do wonder if that's going to happen in one of the Intervallos because he cannot keep getting away with this; he probably thinks he can because no one has asked him to talk about it. Hit em with the "oh I thought you never cared enough to ask" Hong Lu, I dare you.

Also interesting how we nearly lost Heathcliff and Don Quixote in different ways. Would love if the same happened to Hong Lu. I like the drama.

If Canto 8 ends up dealing with themes of change and memory well, that'd be a win for me.

This got away from me, but thumbs up. I swear I can be coherent.

[echantedtoon]

A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch28 Epilogue

Taglist: @shadyd3ar @jcrml

@tengensangel @miniverse-zen @mysteri0uz @jjamsbangtan

@the-unknown-fandom

@lavenderdropp @mimisweetz. @purplesoulsapphire

@kksmush @denkpanda18 @whomisi @lessthanimperfect @silver-rin

@namis-noodlebox

@k1ttyluverz @akiramente

@rascalraccoon @ravenclawkae1

@gilded-sunrays @crescent-blades

@yukari1k @bloodymarysgirl21

@artbyrebel @abaker74 @lunarluna9482

@rainbowidol @lanabanoms @whatarewe-choppedliver

(Hey everyone. I just wanted to thank everyone who read this far and liked my story enough to read it to it's end. I had a lot of fun writing it and it makes me happy knowing some people loved it enough to read it fully. If you liked this consider checking out my other works. Thanks to everyone for reading this, faving it, or leaving a nice comment. And thank you to Koyoharu Gotouge for creating such wonderful characters and giving me the opportunity to make this wonderful story.)

-ONE YEAR LATER-

The busy Hussle and bussle of the daycare was nothing new to you as you went about your business helping to get children checked out to their parents as usual after a long day of them taking classes and doing their part time jobs before coming back to collect their children at the end of the day. You were not different just having handed over a babbling baby over to her very tired looking mom and waved as she turned.

"Bye, Ms. Kokori. See you again next Monday! Safe driving now!," you cheerfully said as the woman left with her baby waving her tiny arms and babbling loudly.

As she approached the door, a white haired figure came up from the outside. Upon noticing the woman and baby, the figure opened the door and stepped back to allow her to walk through before he himself stepped inside. You smiled instantly at who had just walked into the lobby.

"Sanemi! Hi!" You beamed noticing the fact your partner had come walking into the lobby. "On time as usual I see. Did the cold get to you?"

In response the man in the thick cost shivered before shaking his head no. "No but I can't wait for spring to kick in that warm weather already. Burr. If it's this cold, I don't care what Tengen says, I'm not going out for Valentine's Day!"

It's hard to believe that it's been nearly a whole year since that fateful day. Possibly the best day of your life and now look at you all. You were in one giant happy healthy relationship with partners whom loved you very much, with a preschool internship lined up for you after you graduate this year, your partners were all going to graduate this year too, and you're much happier and healthier than you've ever been your entire life! All it took was a few more dates and deciding to give this a chance.

"I'm planning on just staying home and watching a movie. Maybe we all can have one big sleepover!"

He nodded. "Sounds like a plan. With take out and crap."

"Oh. Speaking of food.." He watched as you reached under the counter and pulled out a warm small box that instantly had him light up upon seeing it. "It's been a while since I made you some so here's some ohagi."

"Holy fu- Have I ever told you how much I love you?!" 

You giggled as he took the box from you. "Lots of times."

He instantly opened it up and reached inside, pulling out a single ohagi and in one bite biting it in half. He hummed contently at the warm sweet taste filling up his cold body. "I missed this so much. Oh my gods." His voice was slightly muffled by the food as he looked around. "Where's Mei?"

"He's helping clean the nursery since the last baby was picked up. We're deep cleaning the entire daycare today including the lobby." You gestured to where he stood. "But first we gotta wait for all the kids to get picked up. Speaking of which, you'd probably want Koto by now. Let me go get him. Oh. And all of you are still coming to dinner this Sunday to meet my aunt and Murata right?"

He nodded. You had definitely wanted your partners to meet your best friend and aunt. Your Aunt Dakita had been absolutely THRILLED about the idea of meeting them all while Murata you had to literally beg and pester him for two months before he agreed to finally come over and meet them all.

"Take your time. This is gonna be his last year here after all."

Ah. He was right. Koto was three right now but once he turned four he'd finally be old enough to be enrolled into the local preschool that taught kids and prepared them for their first grade elementary school. So this was going to be his last year here before Sanemi graduated and he'd be moved to Kimetsu Preschool. Right next to the Kimetsu Academy...Huh.

You paused as you turned to go retrieve his baby brother in thought. "Huh..Hey, Sanemi." He perked up in attention as you turned to him. "This is Kimetsu University, but the local school and preschool are Kimetsu Preschool and Kimetsu Academy. Do you this that all those two schools and the university are run by the same chairman?"

....He shrugged. "The hel- HECK if I know. I heard there's gonna be a new turnover at the local schools though. Maybe we can get a job there. It'd be great to teach at the same school my siblings are going to."

You nodded. "It would be wouldn't it?" You simply turned to go get Koto, you were just imagining things anyways.

The distant sounds of papers being shuffled on the desk was nothing new to the woman whom had done this for more than three years now, her heels clicking and echoing off the hall's walls as she got closer and closer to the office door. Without even knocking, she had opened up the door with a creak and let herself in walking up to a grand antique desk covered in more stacks of papers, some pens and pencils, and a two framed photos. One was of a coworker of hers with white hair and unique purple eyes. The other framed photos was five children that looked very much alike in school uniforms and smiling at the camera, four girls and one boy.

"Mr. Chairman, I've brought you the documents you had asked for."

The stack of papers was gently placed in front of the man admiring the children's photos with a soft smile seemingly not even having heard her but she knew better by now. A cheerful hum left his throat from how he slowly looked away from the picture and glanced at the stack of papers before him.

"I've also been getting some concerned comments from parents about Me. Rengoku's abilities as the senior gym instructor. Some are expressing that he's pushing the kendo and track teams too hard during training."

"That's because the last instructor failed to motivate and move them forward so they aren't used to working hard in physical activities. Mr. Shinjuro is doing a better job than I had imagined. Don't worry about the parents. I'll deal with any concerns at the next parent teacher conference."

"If you say so, Sir." She silently watched as he picked up the papers and began to casually flip through them. "May I ask you a question, Sir?" He hummed a yes without looking at her. "May I ask why you wanted me to pull up these specific student files from your university?"

The papers in his hands were all student files from Kimetsu University. All complete with photos and identification and grade records. She was confused why she wanted these twelve files specifically. They all had different names. Kanae Kocho. Giyuu Tomioka. Iguro Obanai. She had no idea why the Chairman would want these specific files. The only thing they had in common was that they were set to graduate this year if they kept their studies up. 

"Oh. No reason in particular." He smiled placing the stack to the side. "I just think having new possible candidates for my staff is very useful. Don't you agree, Nakime."

She didn't answer at first. These weren't the only files she pulled up for him. Another file had been for a music major, Kyogai something, she had forgotten his last name. And one a frw months ago, a woman by the name of Y/n L/n that was employed at the K U. daycare center, and the Chairman had sent an offer for an internship for his new preschool.

"I suppose so but wouldn't it be wiser to look at all the graduating candidates for this year, Mr. Ubuyashiki?"

"Actually I think I have made up my mind."

******

[forbidden-interlude]

Planning a solo trip for next year and it’s so overwhelming 😭

[laurents-secret-diary]

Can we see any of your drawings you may have had for the side characters please??? 👉👈

I only got a couple so far! I think I'm gonna do Nicaise next