#some of this is probably incorrect and is just me reaching for an answer that doesnt exist btw

[pillowenvelopchair]

Hey guys!! this is just my insane ramble on Still Waters Run Deep that's made by the lovely @un-local. I've had so so sooooo many thoughts about this fic and I decided to try and put it all coherently in a post :)

Probably not a lot of new insights, just many, many rambles

Magdalene analysis and her view on Rogier + some other stuff

Magdalene, at the start of the story, is aimless and refuses to follow any line of Grace, putting off whatever it leads to and going in the opposite direction. Yet Grace is fickle, and it all eventually converges, so she gives in. (aaaand a life-changing partnership ensues)

She wants out of the competition of becoming Elden Lord, and she wants nothing to do with it. Someone else to take lordship is what she wants. Magdalene, in her eyes, is not worthy to take the throne. But Rogier on the other hand…

Rogier is, quite literally, built different. He thinks differently compared to Magdalene (a STR vs INT user difference lol). He’s able to pick out all the details that she would miss. Be able to extrapolate and examine it all and be able to learn from it. Magdalene can't do that.

It's basically:

Rogier: says some fun facts about the most random thing in the room, saying all the history behind it, and what the tiny details could mean Magdalene: yeah, that's a rock.

So instead, she becomes a tool for Rogier to be able to use, because that's the least she can do for him.

“She can already feel the faint grin forming on her lips at the thought. She never wanted to be Elden Lord. She’d finally picked up and followed grace to... to get away, with no idea what it called her to do. When Melina told her where it led her, she felt only dread. But Rogier... To save Those Who Live in Death... Two birds, one stone. She meets his eyes, and doesn’t look away. In them, she doesn’t see pride, or avarice. She doesn't see a man who wants to rule the world. Not at all. The path forward is clear now.” -Chapter 22

For once, she really sees a light from the dark future she sees. She's hopeful that she won't have to take the throne, that Rogier can burden it instead of her. He's worthy in her eyes and because of that, she devotes herself to him with all she can do. (Ah but… I believe Rogier wants her to be Elden Lord? Not sure but her not wanting to be Elden Lord doesn’t quite fit with what he has planned)

Magdalene really holds onto Rogier, and his guidance (a comfort wizard, if you will). And so the idea that he won’t make it… that she’ll be left alone with Grace again, forced to join back into the competition for lordship... It's sickening to her. So she really clings to him, desperate to not be left alone with a destiny that she despises.

Magdalene is always pulled into different directions. Grace pulls her to one but she pulls herself to the opposite one. Fia and D are both on extreme sides of the spectrum on Rogier's survival, and Magdalene is caught right in the middle of it.

But for her, Rogier will survive, he has to survive otherwise... that light, that small hope she has will all fade into obscurity.

Ghosts from the past (Lorens and Ida)

I absolutely love how something, or rather, someone haunts both of them.

Lorens had been the catalyst of all of what Rogier does now. Why he’s so desperate to save those who live in death. He's literally devoted his body and mind to Lorens just to see him alive (maybe Rogier's devoting all of himself to finding a solution to death because he wants it to come back to the old times when it was just him and Lorens in the Rise, or maybe not!! I'm just rambling lol).

Every thought of Lorens is painted with a sort of bittersweetness to it. From Rogier's perspective, at the very least (I'm super curious as to how Lorens would view Rogier but we'll probably never get it because... you know...). He's almost obsessed with him, and it's all pretty unhealthy lol.

Magdalene, who’s haunted by Ida who's probably a sort of lover that hadn't been fully brought to fruition. Different opinions on what they have had made Magdalene leave with (from what I have seen at least, we have scrapes of her, people! I can't wait to see more of Ida though)

Now with Ida... Magdalene absolutely shakes herself out of every thought she has about Ida. Spurning every single thought or imagination she has of that woman.

"Nausea comes in waves. Fever. She can feel delirium taking her—she’s convinced she’s submerged in the very waters of creation, for a while. She vividly feels herself sinking deeper and deeper into a current; cold and dark and inescapable. As it pulls her down, she’s overcome with the instinct to breathe it in— Against her temple she feels a hand, with gentle fingers dragging softly through her hair. Suddenly, every layer of the dream collapses in on itself, and she jolts awake with a gasp.  Here, in Liurnia, she hauls herself up, rubbing at her face. Even the memory is a shock of cold water to her. She’s a woman haunted." -Chapter 23

(I just really love this part- I can't help it)

I think it's also really interesting how Magdalene leaves Ida due to their differences in what they have (?) while Rogier just absolutely hangs onto Lorens no matter what, despite him being... er... him. Not so sure about his personality with the small flashbacks we get of him but he’s probably not good for Rogier.

In short, Rogier venerates Lorens, while Magdalene absolutely rejects Ida. (Opposites!)

Rogier’s overthinking

Also found it interesting that when Rogier thinks he really thinks. He's a professional overthinker, even in the past

"He thinks of the labyrinthian etiquette, the way he’d triple-check every sentence for a double meaning. The secrets, the ruthless political schemes. It all felt like a spider’s web to him. He’d learned the game, and he played it well, but it had been nothing but paranoia and misery for him. Just like it was for everyone else." -Chapter 17

It's what's kept him alive (Ch. 17), and what's been able to pave the way for his findings Yet, it’s also his curse. He tries to pick out every detail that he can and think of every possible reason or motivation. Every single outcome he just needs to know so that he won't get caught by surprise again. He needs to be in control of the situation, he needs to be the master of the chessboard.

Oh and once this guy spirals, he really spirals. He starts thinking and looking at details, rewinding every single thing, every interaction, and trying to label a reason for every little thing. Yet... something emotional seems to break the surface of the water.

I personally think that he was raised to overthink. He was a noble after all, and he dealt with politics. He truly needed to check, double check, triple check, every single sentence and word in case it would have a double meaning. "He’d learned the game, and he played it well" (Ch. 17) . Getting worse after Lorens' death, being fooled by "Only a cut." (Ch. 25) and seeing the aftermath of it.

He can't not do it because if he doesn't, and he gets surprised it would break him (or at the very least, freak him out).

ALSO!! Rogier hating on "saccharine conversations" (Ch. 17) good lord. This guy cannot be real with anyone. Rogier refuses to show vulnerability because:

1. He was raised like that (the whole attachment theory thing) 2. He will absolutely break if he does

Do you guys remember when Fia tells Magdalene that "dear Rogier began to weep as he spoke" (Ch.14)? Fia saw through Rogier's walls through the cracks and he just absolutely breaks down. (Get yourself a man who, after "embracing" tells you all about this thing he's obsessed about and then cries because of it)

It's a mortifying ordeal, that someone's able to see through the walls you've meticulously put up. It hits something deep within that he’s tried to bury.

Despite the walls he puts up people other than Fia see through them. Magdalene (Ch.7) was able to see through the small cracks that have broken, and Roderika... hoo she really hit a nerve didn’t she? (But it also hit one of her nerves too, Rogier vs Roderika am I right?)

Chapter 17 analysis

Also, while we’re on the topic of Roderika, let's talk about chapter 17! Seems I have a lot to talk about.

I absolutely love this chapter so much, it gives us so much insight into Rogier's backstory and the way he thinks. His noble background really shines through here, with how he acts with Roderika who is a fellow ex-noble too.

"His grin is wide and carefree, but it rather feels like he's baring his teeth.  There’s no room for your pity here." -Chapter 17

This guy cannot accept any sign of sympathy/compassion with anyone. It's all pity to him, and he absolutely hates pity. Once Roderika starts to console him too it sickens him and it makes him bare his teeth like an animal, his baser instinct showing just a little bit.

He’s probably bore his teeth to other nobles in the court, or whatever meetings they have with one another. Small threats that get the message across by a vicious smile, is something he is all too familiar with.

I also think that it's a little bit funny how he gives advice to Roderika but then is also a little bit of a hypocrite about it

“It’s hard, to leave it behind. But the old world will keep its claws in you, if you let it.” -Chapter 17

Rogier while it's not his past life that he's stuck but rather, he is stuck on Lorens. Even though Rogier is no longer Lorens' student, even though Lorens is dead, he still has his claws on Rogier. It's his entire motivation, why he's in a "pathetic" state now. He isn't letting those claws go, he lets them dig deeper within him, and they dig in deep.

“You already have it within you," he says. "They were only trying to bury it.” -Chapter 17

Rogier immediately buries his own emotions in this interaction when Roderika tries to console him lol. Just based off of him being an ex-noble and his whole family thing, it's well established that he is very much used to burying it all down his gullet. I mean, is it really Rogier without emotional suppression?

Also Rogier tends to close off all the matters that relate to what he feels in his dialogue both in game and in SWRD. This guy cannot let out just a slight moment of vulnerability

A Color Theory Thing on my read on Rogier's garb:

Rogier, with his background being grounded in nobility has suppressed his baser desires in exchange for meaningless political schemes that have only brought him misery. Yet after coming to these lands, he finds himself with Lorens.

He wears a Raya Lucarian Robe and it has red on it. It's a sign of baser instincts being shown for once. He has grown an infatuation with Lorens despite being his student.

Yet, Rogier is still mostly blue, and he still suppresses that baser desire that he’s developed, that infatuation for Lorens. He never once builds up the courage to be able to tell Lorens what he feels. He would always bury those feelings down, and as a result he can't let go of it. It's far too deep to be buried back up.

But once Lorens has died, Rogier changes too.

He exchanges those garbs for yellow and turquoise (I think?). He's a mix of colors and beliefs.

He still has the blue in the turquoise, which symbolizes calm, intelligence, and emotional control (you can’t spell Rogier without emotional control) But turquoise isn't just blue, it also has green.

Green represents growth, life, and new beginnings. This is a new beginning for Rogier, who's set out for a new goal, to be able to save those who live in death (and perhaps give them life? Not so sure on that but in SWRD that seems to be the case with Lorens).

It's balanced by yellow. Creativity and originality, he's almost the only person we meet who wants to save TWLID. Not only that but yellow also symbolizes illness, which could be a foreshadowing of what happens to him later in his life.

It's not just sickness though, yellow also symbolizes deception. Rogier lies, but I necessarily think he's someone who is always deceptive. He's more like the type of guy who would lie so that an encounter would go well or not hurt someone else's feelings. I think he's like that from that whole ex-nobility thing he's got going on. Political schemes and lying through a smile is something that he's familiar with. (It also doesn't help that he keeps being emotionally suppressed too lol)

Cowardice is another. Rogier is scared to tell anyone about his emotions, to take that risk of being honest with someone. His background in nobility and his family definitely doesn't help either.

Rogier had been too scared to be true to Lorens and tell him his feelings, and because of that, he would never be able to. I feel like he's avoided it even more afterward. He refuses to take that jump of being honest with someone, whether it's about his emotions or his ideals, he doesn't let them go.

But when he does? With D, it completely breaks off everything they've had. Everything that they could have been.

"Beguiled fool. A rotten, sick bastard. Fouled by them. A wicked, two-faced user. Heartless. Loathsome parasite. How could he? Were they not supposed to set this crooked world straight? Profane. A perversion of honor. A madman." -Chapter 5

“Get out of my sight.” “I’m sorry.” He’d said, and he was. But Darian’s lips curled back, and he jerked his head away and locked his eyes on the horizon. His jaw twitched, in the moment he took to reply.  “Don’t talk to me.” There was nothing he could do to fix this. To undo his mistakes, to spare Darian his intentions." -Chapter 5

It's all gone because he had been honest about his goals (presumably). This experience probably strengthened that emotional suppression so as to not be hurt/caught by surprise.

So when Magdalene, someone who wholeheartedly accepts his ideals and sees his side for once, he's cautious. He can't believe that someone can genuinely agree with him because all the times that he has been honest, he's been punished for it. (though, he reminds himself that she's not like that)

In short, this guy's a mixed bag. A mixed bag with problems

(basing this off of the Elden Ring color theory video, it was an absolute joy to watch)

[EDIT]: idk what to call this section but he seems to seek out some form of approval. Lets see how that ties in with his grief!

"He still doesn’t understand why. What did he do, specifically? Or was he just past his usefulness? Deemed unfit to rule? He never truly wanted to rule as Lord, but to be cast aside so indifferently—it had shaken him.  Every now and then he fumbles with this, again and again, but he knows. He does. He knows that grace has forsaken him for good reason. He’s a heretic. An apostate. He who does not obediently bow before a faltering, decrepit Order, so ill-equipped to handle the world as it is. " -Chapter 5

"All these years. Couldn’t change a thing. Rather pathetic, I’d say—what a fool, thinking that this crooked world could be made right by mortal hands. Sure, deathblight. Truly, a fitting end for a worthless, rotten bastard." -Chapter 12

Now, speaking from some personal experience, being raised in a family that's of nobility and expects so much out of you from a young age definitely breeds some kind of self-worth issues that really stick with you. Especially if you haven't had anyone to truly support you.

Because of that, I believe that Rogier, in a way, is trying to prove his worth. But not to the Order, I think that he's in some way trying to please Lorens. Even in death.

He puts everything into his studies of Death, searching and scouring for scraps of information just to give him a single lead on anything, and for what?

"Its fulfillment will be a selfish act of altruism. These crooked lands will set right, by his hands, for a reward of nothing at all. But make no mistake: he needs another day. And another after that, and another after that. He needs his questions answered with questions, he needs his notes corrected in an unreadable hand, he needs to hear one more “Well—” followed by the most opaque, convoluted tangle of sentences ever constructed. There’s no reward he seeks, but the warm smile of cold gray eyes and a scoff about just what he’s wearing nowadays. " -Chapter 19

Rogier devotes himself to saving TWLID (saving Lorens, in reality), but it's not because it's all for selfless reasons, he seems to want things to go back to the way things used to be. Back at the Rise, with just him and Lorens once more.

I don't think Rogier ever accepted Lorens' death. He's determined to bring back Lorens, desperately trying to find a solution to bring him back no matter what.

And it’s quite hypocritical isnt it? That Rogier wants to change the Order to be able to sort of… revive Lorens from Death. To go back to the old times that they both had had.

This guy refuses to grieve and is searching (desperately) for a solution for a dead man who's probably not even good for him. Get this man some therapy

This entire post's summary is just me going:

Anyway, that's all for my crazy rambles! I can't wait to see how SWRD will progress, and how everyone will intermingle and grow with one another (Rogier and Mags)!!!! :0)

Have some doodles + a WIP that I'll probably never finish as a treat for reading this! (Mag's torso was wayyy too long on the second one oops)

(bonus boggart because I love him)

[diejager]

just hear me out for one second.... what if hunter was a titan?... yk like aot (attack on titan)

reader looks totally normal, nothing indicating that they were something other than human. Even laswell wasnt 100% sure on what reader was. A stirring mystery within 141 that they all collectively decide to ignore.

then one day, they were out on a mission that was going horribly, horribly wrong.. incorrect information, sabotage, dangerous illegal weapons, low ammunition, scarce supplies, severe injuries, etc.. you name it.

141 was backed into a corner. definitely not the first time something like this has happened in their career...but they always manage to find a way out. Always making it back home, injured sure- but safe..alive.

this time it wasn't the case. there was no way out, none. death was knocking on the door and soon they had to answer.....

and unfortunately reader was the first to greet death.. a clean shot to the head by a sniper

one minute reader was laying in a pool of their own blood and the next they turn into this gigantic humanoid beast.

in a fit of rage, reader starts to completely destroy the battlefield. not a damn soul alive besides 141.

bodies scattered from the sea to the forest and heavens above ..nothing but pure gore and blood.

reader standing over the battlefield bloodied from head to toe, watching the devastation below.

(This is really long im sorry)

Cw: implied death, blood and gore, Canon-typical violence, titan!reader, gun violence?, tell me if I missed any.

The last thing Horangi remembered hearing through the angered hisses and growls, Price screaming at Laswell and her informants through the coms to find a way out their thick predicament was the shuddering shot that boomed through the air. The hair of his arms raised when he watched you turn towards the sound, your wide eyes and choked breath. You flinched back and lurched forward, hands grasping at your bleeding throat, choking and gurgling on the blood that rose from your wound. He rushed to pull you into cover, biting his lip at your pained expression, you were choking on your blood, dying by the thing that substained you, that cycled life and oxygen through your body. 

Your words were sputtered, splattered crimson on Horangi’s mask as he fussed over you, your pinched brows and scrunched nose, the angered gleam in your dulling eyes and your bloody and sneering lips. You pushed him away, stumbling forward with one step at a time, risking being shot a second and third time, but you kept marching away from them, ignoring their attempt to stop you and reach for you. 

“B- bast- ard-!” He heard you screech.

He didn’t know if some God or Gods favoured you or if you were extremely lucky for still being alive, a second bullet landing by your feet and a third scratching your arm. You raised a bloody hand, palm facing you, the crease and groves of every fold a dark red, then you bit down on it. Hard. He admired the strength behind your bite, the crunch of your skin breaking under your teeth and red exploding, he could only imagine how painful it was, but you were already in so much agony, your body’s probably numb. 

And suddenly, lighting sparked around you, bright yellow and loud, scarily close to you before one thick and dangerous one struck where you stood. Within seconds, he gaped at the mass of muscles, red fibres interlocking and sticking to ligaments and fat that kept it together, tying themselves to bone and tendons, wrapping away the red and white with a wide array of red and blue, building a system of veins that were finally covered by skin. In your place was a giant —a titan, one that he’d heard through the grapevines of black markets and hushed whispered and rumours from the underworld when he gambled his life away. 

The titan - you - let out a loud scream, head thrown back and arms reeling back, fingers clenched in anger, deep sated vitriol that carried you around them. He could only stare on in amazement as you trampled over the surrounding enemies, bending down to grip a man, your thick fingers clenching around him and squeezing the life out of him, leaving his entrails spilling out of his broken abdomen. You moved around stepping and squeezing them to death, a trail of carnage behind you, bodies strewed about, spines broken and heads rolling. 

He let you go on without a word, his breath stolen away by you when you slumped over, your nape breaking open with a loud hiss, steam billowing up the air from how hot your body ran, you arched out, body curled backward with a loud sigh. Horangi stared at you, unmoving and unbreathing, and only moved when Price rushed to you, climbing your titan body to pull the rest of you out, your arms and lower body still attached to it by thick, red muscle. Your feet stuttered, eyes blinking tiredly while you leaned on Price, groaning and rubbing the tension out of your temples. 

He realised the blood that was supposed to stain your skin and clothes were gone, evaporated in the heat of it. Your wound healed and energy spent, you were tired and grumbling about wanting to sleep, face pinched in irritation or annoyance, something he could feel. And without any complaints from them, Price had called for evac and waited at the LZ, everyone huddled around you, sharing the same amount of awe and surprise in their expression. You were a wonder to him, a beast of legends that Horangi had only heard of, but he had many, many questions and curiosities that he wanted fulfilled.

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[iovebarca]

In Your Embrace - Pablo Gavi

Authors note: send me some requests!

WC: 1300+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, angsty, fluff!

You are sitting at home, enjoying the quiet of the late afternoon, when your phone rings. The name on the screen makes your heart skip a beat—it's the physiotherapy clinic where Pablo has been doing his recovery training. You answer quickly, anxiety already bubbling up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this y/n?" a worried voice asks.

"Yes, it is. What's going on?"

"It's Pablo. He pulled a muscle during training, and he's not taking it well. He's having a panic attack, and we don't know how to help him. Can you come over?"

Your heart clenches. "I'll be right there."

You grab your keys and rush out the door, your mind racing. Pablo has been working so hard to recover from his injury, and the thought of him in pain and panic makes you feel helpless. You drive as fast as you can without breaking any laws, your thoughts a whirl of worry and determination.

When you arrive at the clinic, one of the physiotherapists greets you at the entrance, her face etched with concern. "He's in the locker room," she says, leading you down a corridor.

You find Pablo alone, sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. His breathing is rapid and shallow, his shoulders trembling with each breath. You can see the strain on his face, the fear in his eyes when he looks up at you.

You kneel down in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his knee. "Pablo, it's me. I'm here."

His eyes are wide and unfocused, and you can tell he's struggling to get his breathing under control. You take a deep breath yourself, hoping to set an example.

"Pablo, look at me," you say softly. "Just focus on my voice. Breathe with me, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth."

You begin to breathe slowly and deliberately, in through your nose, out through your mouth. You watch his chest rise and fall, trying to match your rhythm. But his breaths are still quick and shallow, and his panic doesn't seem to be easing.

You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently. "It's going to be okay, Pablo. I'm right here with you."

He squeezes your hand back, but his eyes are still filled with fear. You realize that he needs more than just breathing exercises. You need to try something else.

Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles are coiled tight with anxiety.

"It's okay," you whisper into his ear. "You're safe. I'm here."

For a moment, he stiffens in your embrace, but then he starts to relax, his breathing slowly beginning to steady. You hold him close, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

"I'm scared," he whispers, his voice trembling. "What if I never recover? What if I can't play again?"

Tears fill your eyes as you hold him tighter. "It's okay to be scared," you say softly. "But you're not alone. I'm here with you, and we're going to get through this together."

He clings to you, his body shaking with sobs. You feel his tears wetting your shoulder, but you don't care. All that matters is being there for him, helping him through this moment.

"You are so strong, Pablo," you say, your voice filled with conviction. "You've come so far already, and I know you can keep going. We'll take it one step at a time, and I'll be with you every step of the way."

He nods against your shoulder, his breathing starting to calm. "Thank you," he whispers.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. You brush away his tears with your thumb, giving him a small, reassuring smile. "You're going to be okay," you say firmly. "I believe in you."

He takes a deep breath, his gaze steadying as he looks at you. "I believe in you too," he says quietly.

You sit with him for a while longer, just holding him and letting him know he's not alone. The panic slowly ebbs away, replaced by a fragile sense of calm. When he finally pulls back, there's a new determination in his eyes.

"Let's get you home," you say gently. "You need to rest."

He nods, and you help him to his feet. He leans on you slightly, and you can feel the exhaustion in his body. But there's also a strength there, a resilience that gives you hope.

As you walk out of the clinic together, you can't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. Gratitude for being there when he needed you, for the bond you share, and for the love that gives both of you the strength to face whatever challenges come your way.

The drive home is quiet but comforting. Pablo holds your hand the entire way, his grip a little tighter than usual, as if he's afraid to let go. You don't mind. You squeeze his hand back, letting him know you're there for him, no matter what.

When you get home, you help him settle onto the couch, propping up his injured leg with some pillows. He sighs in relief, the tension finally easing from his body.

"Do you want something to eat or drink?" you ask, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead.

He shakes his head. "Just stay with me?"

"Of course," you say, sitting down beside him. You take his hand again, your fingers entwined.

He leans his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. "I don't know what I would have done without you today," he murmurs.

You press a kiss to his temple. "You don't have to do anything alone, Pablo. We're a team, remember?"

He smiles, a small but genuine smile that warms your heart. "Yeah, we are."

The evening passes in a comfortable silence, the two of you just enjoying each other's presence. You watch a movie together, but your mind is more focused on Pablo, on making sure he's okay.

As the night deepens, he starts to doze off, his head still resting on your shoulder. You gently shift, lying down so that he can rest his head on your chest. He snuggles closer, his arms wrapping around you.

"Thank you," he whispers again, his voice thick with sleep.

You run your fingers through his hair, a soothing motion that seems to help him relax even more. "Anytime, Pablo. I'll always be here for you."

He falls asleep in your arms, his breathing deep and even. You watch him for a while, your heart full of love and tenderness. You know that there will be more challenges ahead, more moments of fear and doubt. But you also know that as long as you're together, you can face anything.

As you drift off to sleep, you hold him close, your heart at peace. Because no matter what the future holds, you have each other. And that's all that matters.

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (9/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting, semi-edited, smut, fingering, eating out, unprotected sex.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 8.0

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

A/n: lol, hello, I'm sorry for being so MIA lately. I kinda have had half of this written since November but my mom came to visit me in Korea and I forgot about it haha. If you are still here thank you for sticking around! Enjoy! Let me know your thoughts!

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10 Years Ago

Things were finally looking up.

“If you just remember everything we have gone over you'll be fine.” He simply says like it's no big deal, waving you off. 

You on the other hand are filled with the gnawing pain of your nerves. As you look down at your notebook filled with an equal mixture of correct and incorrect answers. 

Maybe things weren't really looking up. 

“I think we should do a few more.” You rush out, flipping to a new page. In that exact moment, the buzzer in Namjoon's hand goes off, and he stands up. 

He pushes in his chair and walks to stand beside you, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Over studying is not the answer.” He says gently, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before walking away to pick up your drinks. 

Your protest dying as you burn daggers into his back. You aren't sure if it's a good thing that he has so much faith in you. When you don't have an ounce in yourself. Especially when in two days you'll hopefully end your misery with the dreaded math final. 

It's been two whole months since you've started your weekly tutoring sessions with Namjoon. You aren't completely lost in class anymore. If you are, you just come to the broad man and drown him in all kinds of questions. With this tactic you've even managed to get an eighty-five present in your last math test. 

The only thing left for you to pass is the stupid final.

You have been seeing Namjoon a lot more this week. Scheduling, and practically begging him to squeeze you into his tight schedule since Monday. A request to brush up on equations and gain some clarity on things you might have forgotten. To say the least, your test anxiety has reached a whole new level. You visibly look exhausted, your skin is oilier than usual, sporting a few painful pimples on your chin, and your hair looks so greasy despite just washing it in the morning. You should feel slightly ashamed for even leaving your house looking like a hot mess, but your thoughts are suffocating. Staying in would make the panic in the pit of your stomach worse. 

Especially when you and your tutor have recently discovered your inability to do word problems. The main reason why you keep calling Namjoon at three in the morning. Even though he thinks you're just being paranoid, especially with the silent sigh of defeat you hear through your phone speaker. He tries his best to reassure you that you're going to be fine at the end of the day. 

“There will probably be three, five at most. He had said last night when you called. 

Thankfully he had stayed up revising his final paper, instead of being three dimensions deep in dream land like on Sunday when you called. Still, even though he had muttered out a tiny complaint, he stayed on the line with you. Until you were calm enough to fall asleep again. 

In just three months your acquaintance has blossomed into a full on friendship. Along with your sneaking suspicion that both Taehyung and Jimin like him better. It was obvious last Friday night when Jimin had a small end of the semester get together at his apartment. Namjoon got so drunk he performed the entirety of Grease Lightning on karaoke. Including the dance break with special guest and step brother Jeon Jungkook. 

Later on in the night the older of the four cried about the final scene in the Titanic. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but heartwarming to be able to see a different side of the Philosophy student. 

“Look who decided to join us.” You jump, placing your pen down in your notebook, closing it to hold your page. You turn around, feeling a wide smile come onto your face when you lock eyes with the other source of your happiness these last few months. 

“Hobi,” you exclaim, holding your arms out to him. He chuckles, and leans down giving you one of those awkward hugs one gives when the other person is sitting down. It only lasts a few seconds and then he is leaning his head back to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, making you cringe. 

“Ew,” you pout, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. He chuckles, pecking your lips lightly and then taking the seat next to you. 

“Joon says you need a break from being a math wizard.” He chuckles, dragging your notebook to him. He places his arms over it keeping it hostage.

You whine crossing your arms in front of you, pouting like a child. “But what if I don't pass. I don't want to have to take the class a third time.” 

Namjoon shakes his head, sets your chamomile tea in front of you, and sits down. “I already told you, you won't. I did the math last night. Even if you get a sixty five percent, you'll still be able to pass the class with a B.” He states firmly and takes a sip from his coffee. 

You huff, sinking further into the chair. “I don't want a B, I want an A.” 

Hoseok snakes an arm over your shoulders and brings you close to his side.” “Then you will pass the class with an A honey cakes.” He kisses your temple before resting his cheek on top of your head. You take a deep breath, nodding and snuggling closer to him.

“So are you two dating now?” Namjoon leans back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of him.

Hoseok waves an arm, brushing off the question that has been surrounding the two of you these past three weeks. “You know it's not like that.” He answers before you can. He pulls his arm away and sets them both on top of your notebook. He sends you a knowing wink. 

“Yeah you out of all people should know it's not like that.” You back up Hoseok, sticking your tongue out at the other. “How's Rina by the way?” You challenge making the man next to you burst out in a fit of giggles. 

You see, most of the things Jungkook told you about Namjoon prior to your first meeting have all been lies. Or just not the whole truth.

Namjoon was a broody person. He did put his studies as one of his priorities in life. And he didn't want a relationship. 

Yet in the last few months you have gotten to know the career driven man. You've also managed to peel back some of his layers. 

He did have his moments of indignation, but he could also be very playful and funny. This side mostly comes out when Hoseok is around or when he wants you to get your mind off the things that have been stressing you out. He does have a strong work ethic, but he also knows when to take a break. 

There have even moments in your tutoring slash now study sessions when he forces you to take walks. He says it helps clear your head, but you also know it's his way to get his ideas to flow again whenever he feels stuck. 

During these walks you've managed to find out more things about him. He loves museums because he's shit at art, and knowing that there are people out there who aren't makes him appreciate the art a lot more. At least once every two months he visits the tree he and his father planted his mother’s ashes at to update her on his life. He cares so much for Jungkook and his mother even if he doesn't show it all the time. And despite not wanting a relationship he has been head over heels for the girl he's been casually hooking up with for the last two years. 

Though he won't come out and say it himself. You have witnessed the way his face settles down into something calmer. And his eyes light up whenever his phone rings and her name pops up on the screen.

He once spent thirty minutes talking about a joke she had told him one night. Spoiler alert, it wasn't a good one, but it was adorable watching him try to get it out in-between chuckles. 

You also know he shares the same negative sentiment Jungkook has about your current relationship with his best friend. But just like he claims that his relationship with Rina is complicated. So, is yours with the ray of sunshine you get to now call friend.

“She's fine.” He shrugs, clearing his throat and looking out the window. You share a look with Hoseok before letting out a fit of shared giggles. 

If someone had once told you that your strict math tutor slash friend would turn into a shy mess with just the simple mention of a name. You would've thought they were fucking with you. Even if it still surprises you a little bit. 

“You should just ask her to be your girlfriend.” Hoseok chimes in. 

Namjoon throws his head back groaning. “It wouldn't work out if I do, plus that would require for me to act like a boyfriend and I'm not ready for that kind of commitment.” He speaks with his eyes trained on the high ceiling of the cafe. 

You lean forward placing your elbows on top of the table and wrapping your arms around the hot mug. “You already do Namjoon. A switch of labels is not going to change anything. And don't you think she deserves some kind of confirmation and respect when it comes to your relationship?” You finish tilting your head to the side. 

“I do respect her though, which is why I don't want to ask her, like you just said a label won't change anything.” 

You let out a sigh, “I didn't say that you didn't respect her. I just think that from a girl's perspective she might be feeling a little bit confused with your words and actions. You say the two of you aren't anything serious but then you act like you can't live without her. If I was in her shoes I would feel very frustrated. So, maybe you don't have to make this big grand gesture or ask her to officially be your girlfriend but just clarify things between the two of you. If you aren't serious about her then so be it but if you are then tell her that.” You finish and take your first sip from your tea. 

“I agree with honey cakes, just be a little more straight forward that's all.” Hoseok shrugs before standing up. 

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and looks between the two of you. “And what about you?” He counteracts childishly. You knew it was coming. In his eyes the two of you giving him advice when you're in a similar situation is a bit hypocritical. Plus you and Hoseok are on the same page so it's di–

“That's different.” Hoseok speaks before you. “And this is about your love life not ours.” He states stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“Whatever.” Namjoon brushes off. You sigh, aware that if you choose to continue the conversation it will end in the three of you having a petty argument. You look at Hoseok as he leans down, placing a delicate kiss on your cheek, making the man witnessing the affectionate gesture scoff in annoyance. 

If he wants to say something he doesn't voice it instead he opens his leather bound notebook to a new page. 

Hoseok ignores him and stands up straight. “Are we still on tonight?” 

You nod. “I can't stay for long though I want to catch up on sleep.” 

“Fine then just one movie it is.” He winks before turning on his heels. Leaving you behind with the grumpy man. He looks up from his journal, opening his mouth, but you raise a hand to stop him. “It's different Namjoon.” 

Namjon clicks his tongue in annoyance and shrugs. “Whatever, let's just do one more world problem before calling it a day.” 

“Fine,” you huff, sliding your notebook in front of you and opening it to a clean page. 

Just one more day and you'll be free from this torture. 

Hoseok's apartment is everything you expect from the maximest man. Just upon walking in you are hit with waves of bright colors. By the doorway there are different KAWS figurines that you can only imagine cost a fortune. Yet they greet you with their x'd out eyes as you remove your shoes. 

Then you have to pass by the Supreme beaded curtain to finally enter the living room. A bright red leather couch is settled in the middle. With wine colored pillows and a black throw blanket that you've adopted since the first night you spent in Hoseok's arms.

Abstract art lines the walls behind the television. There are more figurines lining the shelves in between books, records, and framed pictures of his friends and families. Along with a few miscellaneous items that he's told you he's obtained over the years.

His TV is huge. Takes up almost the whole wall, but your favorite to watch movies since he installed a surround system upon moving in years ago. 

You still remember the first night he invited you over. It was after spending two whole weeks texting non stop. He simply asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him and you thought why not. 

One night led to another and now another. It always starts the same. The two of you spend days teasing one another through text. Lewd texts along with pictures. You come over for a movie and then you end up underneath him. 

When it's over, he lets you use his shower while he orders takeout from the vegan restaurant a block down the road. And the two of you resume watching the movie as if neither of you were panting each other's names in pleasure. 

A simple arrangement with absolutely no strings attached.

It was what you were expecting when you came over tonight. Not that you don't mind the nights in which you do come over and nothing happens other than the deep hearted talks over a slow record playing in the background. But that wasn't happening either, because ever since you arrived at his doorstep, the overzealous man has been quiet. Biting the inside of his cheek and moving around you far enough to raise suspicion. 

It has your mind traveling back to the conversation that occurred in the afternoon. Was Hoseok having second thoughts? Or was there more to his actions than what you were picking up? 

“Hobi,” you whisper the minute he enters his living room with a bowl of popcorn stepping over your legs that were resting on his coffee table. He silently settles down next to you, on the other side of the couch with a gap wide enough to fit a person in between. 

Now you're more than positive that something is wrong. 

You groan, “I think I'll just go home then.” You mumble, pushing the throw blanket of your shoulders. 

This is enough to catch his attention. His eyes are wide behind his dark rimmed glasses and he sits up. “What why?” He tilts his head in confusion. 

A dry chuckle escapes your lips. “You obviously don't want me around, so I'll just go. I need to go to sleep early anyway.” You shrug, slipping your feet in his fuzzy slippers and swiftly start making your way to grab your stuff in his room. 

“No I–wait.” Finally, he speaks up, earning an eye roll from you that he can't see as your back is still turned. 

With haltered steps you spin on your heel to face him again, “What? You've been acting strange since I got here. So, if you don't want me around I will just go home.” 

At lightning speed he sets the bowl of popcorn on his coffee table, and stands up. He makes hasty steps towards you and when he is finally standing in front of you, he sets both of his hands on top of your shoulders. 

“Don't leave…I'm sorry.” Hoseok's eyes cast down past your face. They settle upon the graphic on your old washed out t-shirt. He takes a deep breath and looks up again. His face twists into something you can't decipher. It's a look you've never seen him wear, and it settles hard into your chest. 

He looks troubled, chewing on the inside of his cheek. His eyes dart to five different focal points. You know he's arguing with himself. When he finally looks at you in your eyes again. You can't help but shrink a little bit. 

His features have hardened, and you want to reach out to smooth over the little worry lines in the middle of his forehead. Guilt washes over you. 

For what? 

You don't know but you hope more than anything that you'll soon find out. 

“Can we talk?” He speaks up, letting his arms fall down, his knuckles brushing against your skin. 

For a second you think he's going to pull away. Retrieve into his body, but when he grabs your hands and laces his fingers with yours. The guilt in the pit of your stomach dissipates and you're left with confusion. 

When you don't answer his question, he repeats himself. This time differently, “I just think we need to talk, I've been thinking since this afternoon. I want to check up on you, and I guess us.” He clarifies, and now you're filled with a different kind of emotion. As much as you're relieved that you didn't do anything wrong per se. You are slightly annoyed that he couldn't just tell you that when you first arrived. Instead of ignoring you until you reached your breaking point. 

Frustrated, you say slowly, “Then just say that, instead of ignoring me.” 

Hoseok closes his eyes and sighs, nodding his head before speaking, “you're right I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind and I am not sure how to bring any of what I'm thinking about up.” 

“Hobi, just say it. We agreed on clear communication when we realized that this was going to be more than just a one night stand.” You sigh, beginning to walk in the direction of his couch, stringing him along. “Whatever is on your mind, just say it.” You push him onto his couch and take the seat next to him, your body fully facing his, and you fold your legs beneath you. 

He nods, running a hand down his face. “I don't think this is working anymore.” He whispers, eyes trained on his ceiling. 

Okay you were definitely not expecting that, but instead of voicing your surprise, you squeeze his hand. Encouraging him to continue. 

He does, “I think I'm slowly falling for you, well I don't know I'm confused about my feelings.” He whispers the end and falls quiet. 

As much as you want to run away and hide at his confession. He looks troubled and you wouldn't be a good friend if you just left him to wallow in his thoughts. No matter the pressure that has settled in your chest. Or the fact that your heart thinks you're running a marathon, making your ears feel like they're about to fall off too. 

With every passing moment you're finding that it's getting harder to breathe. You aren't dumb, the atmosphere has also changed, but it isn't because of his confession. It's because you are also a bit confused about your feelings.

You clear your throat, “W-What are you confused about?” 

He stops his staring game with the ceiling, shifting his whole body to finally face you. “Do you know why both Kook and Joon are so against us?” 

The question throws you off guard but you suppose it has to do with what he's going through. You do have an idea as to why your friends are raising a brow at your relationship. Jungkook’s warning the first day you met the barista is enough for you to get a rough idea of what they mean. But you want to hear it from him. 

Still you don't know if you can trust your voice so you shake your head. 

He continues, “I've never been in a relationship because I don't trust people to love me the way I know I can love them. So, I just sleep around, and when I get bored I break it off.” 

 “I know. They warned me about you when you immediately showed interest. And trust me I knew what I signed up for when we agreed to keep seeing each other. I don't expect anything more than what we are doing.” You tilt your head to the side.

“I know that's why I'm confused. At first that's all I expected and wanted. But then I don't know I feel so full and empty when I'm with you. I don't want you to leave when the night is over. You're the last thing I think about and the first thing I want to see. I've never felt this sure and comfortable with anyone ever, and I don't know what to do because we both know this isn't forever, your forever is with someone else, and so is mine. But for now I just want to be with you and know what it's like to fall in love and with you.” He takes a deep breath. “Even if it's just for a little bit. You know that next year I'll be leaving for that design school, and I'm sorry but nothing and no one is going to stop me. I've waited too long for this opportunity. I know I'm being selfish to ask you this, but can you please find it in your heart to let me be yours until then?” 

Hoseok finishes. And you're left to your own devices. To deal with your emotions as they spill out of you in hot tears. You've never had someone confess to you so passionately before. Actually nobody has ever bothered. And even though it's semi depressing you can't help but feel on cloud nine with all his words wrapping around you in the warmth that he radiates. 

Without thinking you kneel, and wrap your arms around his neck. “Okay let's do it.” You beam and he matches your smile. He leans in to kiss you but you place your hand over his mouth to stop him. 

Confusion plagues him like a bitter sting. You laugh, “But only if you agree that when everything is over there's no drama between us, and if I ever get married you have to design my wedding dress.” You remove your hand, and cradle his cheek, rub your thumb over his eyebrow. 

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “You will get married.” 

“Nah, but it's okay. I've accepted my faith.” You shrug, resting your forehead against his. His hands come up your cheek, squishing them slightly.

“You will honey cakes, that's why I'm already planning your dress design in my head.” He wipes your forgotten tears, and tilts your head to the side. 

You feel your breathing get faster, as his heart shaped lips rest centimeters apart. “How are you so sure?” You whisper, swallowing thickly at the end. 

He smirks, with a glint in his eye. Like he knows something you don't, “because I know someone who is also falling for you but they’re to dumb to notice “ 

“Who?” 

“Secret,” he says before finally crashing his lips onto yours.

Hoseok’s room is equally as loud as his living room. It’s a little more diluted with simple decorations and a huge abstract painting on the wall in front of his bed. His bed takes up most of his space, adoring a black duvet with black sheets. He has three pillows and two of those you’ve taken ownership of. His brown dresser holds little trinkets of things he buys or finds in the pockets of his pants. It’s also home to a series of designer colognes. Your favorite one was definitely Terre d'Hermes. Somehow the smell always fills with comfort. 

Your favorite part of his room–other than his bed–was his desk. They say you can tell a lot about a person by just looking at their work space. 

He’s a messy artist. His sketches are always thrown around, or pinned on the corkboard hanging over his desk. He has two bookshelves filled with sketchbooks and magazines. Sometimes if you’re lucky he will leave his sketchbooks open, awarding you with a small glance of his work. He has different notebooks for different magazine cutouts. Each one labeled something like, ‘street’ or ‘formal’ or ‘one-day.’ The latter always peaks your interest but you’ve never thought to ask. He has a thousand different sketching materials, and so many colorful markers. You just know that he was that kid in class with the sixty-four crayola back. 

He's passionate about his craft. A passion that shines through everything that he does. Especially when he’s sharing that passion with you. Now, as he lays you down onto his soft mattress. He kisses his way down your neck, slowly pushing your shirt up to reveal your stomach and the few stretch marks that appeared one day in your early adolescent years. 

For years it was hard to be intimate with someone in fear that they would disgust your partner. But the one thing you learned while growing up was that most men didn’t give a shit unless they were getting it. 

Yet Hoseok, your boyfriend, now. 

He cares. 

In a good way. The first time he saw you naked he almost came in his jeans. Your curves were all in the right places. You have enough skin to grip onto, and he loves all the marks and imperfections your body has. 

He couldn’t understand why you were so beautiful in the soft glow of his bedroom lights? Why he didn’t have the words to describe how his heart was literally beating against his ribcage?  Why for the first time in his casual dating experience he feared he wouldn't be able to give you the pleasure you deserved? 

So, that first night together, he took his time. Trying to get his thoughts under control. He painted your body with featherlight kisses. Determined to leave his trace imprinted in your body for however long you two would engage with each other. 

Everytime you came over. He did just that. He took his time, choreographing a dance with your body. It was a no-brainer that he had fallen for you. Something he knew shouldn’t have happened. He had plans for himself. He had a future mapped out since he was teenage. Though, he had the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t stop him from achieving his goals. That you would support him through everything. He should’ve stopped his feelings for you from growing. 

He kept them quiet until his portfolio got accepted. Until he saw the brief glances Namjoon gave you when he thought you weren’t looking. Perhaps it was the jealousy that made him confess. Or that his time with you was now limited. Whatever the reason was that led him to his confession, he only hoped that you felt the same. 

You giggle, the beautiful melodic sound grounds him as he wraps a calloused hand around your right breast, circling his thumb around the pebble. 

You're his girlfriend now. 

He, your boyfriend and he will bring down the moon for you tonight if you asked him too. 

“What’s so funny?” His curious stare meets your amused one. 

You had failed to keep your giggles at bay while he made out with you on his couch. He let a few of his own out when he had had enough of kissing and grinding in his living room, and guided you into his room. 

He loved the sound, and he loved that it was only because after months of dancing this tango you were still shy underneath him. 

“Nothing, it’s just that Mickey is staring at us.” You whisper gasping when he grinds his lower half against yours. Hoseok playfully rolls his eyes, reaching and turning around the newly added picture of his family dog on his bedside table. No more prying dog or human eyes around to interrupt the two of you. 

His attention returns to you. Gaze burning with lust as he leans down, pecking your lips lightly. “Can you stay over?” He says, kneading your breast again. The teasing touches were driving you insane. But this is how you preferred it. Slow and intense, tangling your body with his, until the two of you became one. 

“I’ll make an exception if you promise to drive me to my class tomorrow with a free coffee.” You smile, pushing your chest into his hand. 

He shook his head, reaching down to your lips. “Hustler.” He mumbles, capturing your mouth in a slow sensual kiss. “You got yourself a deal baby girl.” 

Your body shudders at the nickname. He only used it when it was just the two of you. He knew the effect it had on you. “Can I take your shirt off now?” He smirks. 

You let out a pleasurable sigh, nodding your head, before verbalizing a soft, “yes.” 

He pulls away, sitting back on his heels, peeling his shirt off before helping you with yours. He discards the two of them somewhere behind him. He pulls you towards him again, resting his forehead against yours. A bright smile adorning his perfect face. 

It makes your stomach crumble, knowing that from this moment on.

Hoseok would always be the one who got away. 

Your big “what if.” 

Your biggest treasure. Your safe place. Your blueprint for a future with someone else. The love story that was made to end. But one that burned so bright that would have you telling your future daughter to never be afraid of love. 

“Can we go slow today?” You run your hands down his torso, playing with the belt buckle of his expensive belt. 

“I’ll go at whatever pace you want me to go, baby girl.” He reassures,  his fingers play with the bra strap that had fallen down your shoulder. 

You tilt your head, looking at him with soft eyes. And he swears he feels himself melt. 

The next few minutes were a mess of soft kisses and clothes being discarded. Each article of clothing, landing with a soft ‘thud’ against his bedroom floor. You’re on cloud nine, his lips kiss down your neck, your collarbone. His hands part your thighs, baring your cunt to him. He sits back, mouth watering at how wet you are. He couldn’t wait for a taste. 

He could never wait. And he never did. 

He kisses your mound before wrapping his lips around your clit. He savors the sigh that escapes your mouth. He smirks when he immediately feels you grip his hair, pushing him further. Just like he couldn’t resist, you also couldn’t.

He sucked, distracting you from his finger circling around your entrance making you gasp in surprise when you feel him insert one. Slowly thrusting it as he licked you like a man who has been starved for weeks. 

“Hobi,” You sigh, pushing his head further. He fingers you faster until he feels you clench around him, and he stops, making you whine. 

“Please,” you plead. He chuckles against you, inserting another finger. This time he doesn’t give you time to adjust. You feel him thrust into you with no hesitation. His mouth sucking on your clit, swirling his tongue around it playing with the nub. 

You were withering, moaning his name, and anything your mind could conjure up in this moment. 

Overwhelmed with blissful pleasure, you grip his bed sheets, bucking your hips into his face. He groans, knowing you were on edge from how tight your grip on his head was now. And he did the one thing he knew would drive you insane. He slowed down, until he came to a complete stop. 

“Hoseok,” you groan, slamming your hand onto his comforter. He chuckles, lifting his head. Your body was flushed, your lips swollen, your hair splayed out around you. He loves bringing you to this moment. 

“You said you wanted slow.” He grins, taking his fingers out of your pussy. Loving the way it clenched over nothing now. Almost as if it was begging to be played with again. 

You roll your eyes, pouting. “Not this slow. I want to come.” You say, sitting up on your elbows. 

“Oh baby you will.” He winks, licking his fingers clean. He leans over, pecking your lips quickly. “You will come as many times as you want. But I want the first one to be around my cock tonight.” 

You gasp at his words. You knew his mouth was lethal but sometimes it still surprises you. The lust lacing with his soft timbre made you weak in the knees. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. 

The word ‘slow’ is forgotten from either of your vocabularies, while the two of you kiss hungrily. Sucking on tongues, teeth clashing, hands touching and clutching onto anything and everything. 

Hoseok lays you down on your side, climbing in behind you. His teeth nips at your bottom lip and he wrapped your leg around his hips. He kisses down your neck, while you help guide his cock to your entrance. He locks his eyes with yours as he slowly pushes himself in. His arms wrap around your torso, and he pushes you closer to his chest. 

Both of your heartbeats are in sync. Racing against the clock, basking in pleasure that you never want it to end. 

“Move please.” You say, lifting your face to kiss him. 

He begins to move his hips, making you gasp into each other's mouths. It’s a sloppy pace from the start but you don't care. You want more, so you met his thrusts halfway. One of his hands palms at your breast. He alternates between swallowing your moans and leaving his mark on anything he can get his lips on. 

“B-Baby.” He moans, resting his forehead on yours. “I’m close, are you?” He thrusts, letting out a low moan when he feels you clench around him.

He didn’t give you a minute to answer, before he was lifting your leg higher around his waist, allowing himself to reach the deepest part of you. “Touch yourself baby.” 

You moan his name, letting go of his hand, your finger meeting your clit, rubbing it in circles. Trying to keep up with his unrelenting pace. And soon you feel him still behind you, eyes shutting in pleasure as he spills himself inside of you. His orgasm triggers the coil in the pit of your stomach as you feel your release wash over you in a tidal wave, making you push his cock and cum out of you. His fingers frantically come down to meet yours as he helps you ride out your wave. He whispers praises against your skin while you come down.

Hoseok kisses your lips slowly, chuckling before whispering words that you will forever hold near and dear to your heart. 

“I love you.” He pushes your hair away from your face. “I love you so much to know that one day I’ll have to let you go.”

You giggle, turning in his arms, nuzzling your head into his neck. “I love you.” 

You feel him laugh, twinkling his fingers down your spine, “Let’s get matching tattoos.” 

You look up at him, raising a brow before shaking your head. “You just made me squirt, told me you loved me, and now you want to get matching tattoos?” 

“What better way to commemorate the best ego boost.” He shrugs. 

“You’re insane.” You untangle yourself from his embrace. You stand up, putting on his shirt. 

“I didn’t hear a no.” He says smugly, putting his arms underneath his head. 

“Because you’re an insane idiot who makes me agree to things like these.” You smile, before walking out of his room. 

“Great, I’ll make an appointment.” He shouts after you, “I love you.” He adds after a moment. 

You enter his kitchen, and turn on the lights. You can feel your smile take up your entire face. For a moment you realize that for the first time in a long time you felt happy. 

So yeah, maybe, things were finally looking up. 

“You’re late.”

Namjoon says after taking a slow sip from his coffee. He looks at you from over the rim of his glasses. 

You roll your eyes, setting your bag down on the empty chair. “It's raining, and I forgot my umbrella. I had to wait for the rain to stop.”

“You could’ve texted to let me know.” He shrugs, setting his cup down on the coaster and flipping the page of his book. 

You sigh, before (gently) throwing your phone onto the table. “It’s dead. And before you ask, no I didn’t bring a charger. No, Jungkook wasn’t in class today so he couldn’t give me a charger, an umbrella, or a ride. Jimin is sick. And Taehyung doesn’t even go to our school. He's probably getting high with his new fling, so I wouldn’t have been able to ask him either.” You say, listing all the solutions he would’ve thought about in seconds. 

“Mhm,” he nods, closing his book. “And your boyfriend?”

Annoyed, you let out a whine, crossing your arms in front of you. “I don’t know, let me go downstairs and ask him. I’m sure he can stop managing a business to give me an umbrella.” 

Namjoon leans his elbows against the table. “Trouble in paradise?” He tilts his head, clasping his hands on top of his book. 

You shake your head, pulling out your chair and slumping down in it. “Hobi and I are fine. It’s not like he’s leaving in two months or anything.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. 

It’s month seven into your shining relationship with Hoseok, and you should’ve known that things would start to hit the fan sooner rather than Later. Your boyfriend was in the middle of the most tumultuous change of his life. Things were moving quickly and his time dedicated to you was bumped down his monstrous daily to-do list. 

Yet you couldn’t do or say anything because isn’t this what you signed up for? 

“Ah, so there is trouble.” Namjoon chuckles before opening his book again, setting his fancy leather bookmark aside. “This is exactly why I don’t do relationships, they just attract problems.” He adds, giving you a pointed look. 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up asshole, not all of us can be like you and Rina.” 

“Sure you can, it's simple just don't attach any strings to it.” He shrugs, underlining a sentence in his book. 

“Two people who have been only exclusively seeing each other for years literally the definition of strings attached. You can keep denying it all you want but she’s your girlfriend. You guys do all the couple-y stuff.” You grumble, leaning back in your chair, looking out of the window. The gloomy weather adds to your shitty mood. 

“She’s not, we are not dating, and I don’t need to talk about this with you again. Rina and I are on the same page.” He finishes, taking a long sip from his coffee.

“Well, how would you feel if Rina was spending time with another guy, completely ignoring your presence when you walk into her coffee shop all wet and angry because your professor basically told you your topic for your essay was shit.”

Namjoon smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like you’re jealous of Yuri.” 

“So what if I am?” You bite, “I understand that he’s training her to take over his position, but all he talks about is her and what he needs to teach her when we’re together. And whenever I come in they’re always laughing at something behind the coffee machine. And I know she’s nice and all but I would like his attention too.” You scoff. 

Namjoon hums, tapping his index finger against the table. “Do you trust him?” 

The question doesn’t catch you off guard, the obvious answer is on the tip of your tongue. But with how things have been going lately. You can’t help but hesitate. 

“I don’t know anymore.” You whisper looking down at your hands, turning the ring on your middle finger. “I know I should, and I do…I think I do. It’s just things have been so shit lately and I feel like a burden to him because of everything he has to do.” 

Namjoon lightly kicks your foot under the table, making you raise your head to meet his gaze. “I don’t know if I am being of much help, but he loves you. I know that whatever is happening he’s not doing it intentionally. Just talk to him about it.” 

If only it were that easy. 

“I’d love to but he never has time.” 

“Why not talk to him now then.” He says reaching into his bag to take out his cigarettes and lighter. 

“He’s busy downstairs with Yu–” 

“No, I’m not busy now.” 

You jump at the sound of your boyfriend's voice. You turn your head to look at him. A small tray with a mug of probably chamomile tea on top of it. His hair is shorter than the last time you saw him two days ago. He got a haircut and didn’t even tell you about it. That’s how low you have made it on his list. He can’t even send you a stupid picture of his new haircut. He can’t even send you a ‘goodmorning’ or ‘goodnight’ text. He also probably forgot that you were nervous for the meeting with your professor about your essay topic.

All these realizations make you want to roll into a ball and cry. You knew your time with Hoseok was limited. You just didn’t expect for the end to be so torturous. 

“That’s what I told her.” Namjoon speaks, narrowing his eyes at you for a second before turning his attention to his best friend. “She’s jealous of Yuri, because you’ve been spending too much time with her.” He shrugs, walking quickly to the stairs before you can bury him ten feet underground. 

You hear Hoseok let out a heavy sigh, and take the seat next to you. “Honeycakes,” he starts.

“Nice haircut.” You interrupt, slumping into your chair more. It earns another heavy sigh from the man sitting next to you. 

“Is Yuri the reason why you’ve been so upset lately?” He says placing a hand on top of your knee underneath the table. 

You let out a dry laugh before shaking your head. “No, it’s not her. It’s how you’ve been acting lately, it’s the time you’ve been spending with her. It's never having time for me anymore. It’s forgetting our date last week. It’s not even telling me that you got a haircut.” You finish, closing your fists to keep yourself from crying. 

Hoseok gives your thigh a squeeze before leaning back in his chair. “You know how things have been lately. I’m trying so hard to do everything I need to do. I don’t mean to be so dismissive but I can’t juggle everything at the same time.” 

You flick off a piece of lint from your jeans. “It’s nice to know that I’m just something you juggle around.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You knew what would happen when I started my application process. You said you understood.” 

“I did, or I thought I did Hoseok. I didn’t think I would become so secondary to you.” You sniffle. “I love that you’re chasing your dreams, but this is me trying to support you. I’m trying to understand how you’re feeling. But you stop me. You have shut me out and now I’m just something you remember sometimes.” You close your eyes, feeling the tears fall down your cheeks. 

The last thing you wanted was to be crying like this in public. 

“I-I want you to tell me when you’re having a hard time like you used to. I want you to feel like you can relax around me when we’re together. But every time we are together, we either argue, you don’t talk, or you talk about work, deadlines, or how you can’t wait to move. How do you think that makes me feel Hoseok?” 

Hoseok sighs, and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He kisses your temple. “I wish you would’ve told me earlier before it got to this point.” He whispers, rubbing your back, while you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

“But Hobi like you said, this is what I signed up for. This is what I agreed to.”  You add bitterly. 

“Yes Honeycakes, but you’re still my girlfriend. And I know that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, but I do care about you and I do love you.” He lifts your head from his shoulder. He gently grabs hold of your face, making you look at him. “Just like how you want me to talk to you when something is bothering me, I also want you to talk to me.” 

You close your head sighing, “You’re right, I’m sorry that I keep making things difficult.” 

He shakes his head. “You don’t. I’m the one that can’t seem to keep my girlfriend from doubting me. I’m the one who hasn’t told her how much I yearn to be in her presence at every waking moment.” He says, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “I love you, and I think that’s why I’ve been so avoidant lately. I know that our days are numbered and I would rather ignore the fact that I’m moving away soon than cherish the moments I get to spend with my family, my friends and you.” 

You nod, holding out your pinky out to him. “I promise to keep trying my best.” 

He hooks his pinky with yours bringing your laced fingers up to his lips. “I promise to keep trying my best too.” 

“I love you,” You whisper, letting go of his finger and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

His low laugh makes his chest vibrate against your head, “I love you.” He adds, rubbing soothing circles over your back. “Now, can you please drink your tea before you get a cold. I texted you earlier asking if you needed an umbrella but you didn’t answer. And now look at you coming in here all pouty and wet.”  

You raise your head to look at him, opening your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the forgotten voice of your friend. “Her phone’s dead.” Namjoon throws his lighter onto the wooden table. 

Hoseok tsks shaking his head, reaching over to push the tray of your lukewarm tea closer to you. “I should’ve known. I knew you didn’t charge it last night, just like I knew that you left your umbrella at my place.” He pinches your cheek. “How did your meeting go?” 

“He basically said that I need to restart my essay topic over again.”

Hoseok laughs, bopping your nose with his own. “Well did he say those exact words?” 

“No but it was basically implied.”  You emphasize. 

“Fine, I’ll talk to your study partner if my baby isn’t being told that she’s a genius all the time, then what am I paying him for.” He jokes, which earns a glare from said study partner. 

“You’re not paying me, idiot.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, grabbing his brown leather messenger back and stuffing his cigarettes into the front pocket. 

He’s grateful that he came back to smiles and not tears. The stoicness of his actions makes the two of you laugh hard. Your laugh resonates longer in his mind. It always does. No matter how much he tries to deny it. You always resonate longer in his mind. But he pushes that fleeting thought aside. 

Namjoon is happy. 

His friends are happy. 

Things in his life were finally looking up. 

“I have to go, but don’t be late next time and charge your phone.” He says hoisting his bag onto his shoulders. 

You nod, saluting in his direction, before bursting out into a fit of giggles as Hoseok tickles your side. 

Namjoon doesn’t stay for longer than he needs to. He’s already running late to meet Rina, but he can’t hide the smile taking up his space.

He can’t help but feel proud that things were finally looking up for you too. 

a/n: I hope you have enjoyed it. I will try not to be so MIA and upload a little more frequently rather than every 6 months haha. But my life has been pretty busy lately. In the past few months. I have moved to a different part of Seoul and I got a new job. I basically just hang out with my friends when I have free time haha. I also do dance class 3 times a week, and I started personal training last week. But I will try to manage my time better because I do miss writing and this story!

[muzyoshi]

Miles Edgeworth's Secret

This post is purely for documentation purposes, and also to inform anyone who may not be aware. This post will contain SPOILERS for the end of Phoenix Wright: Trials & Tribulations, so proceed with caution.

During Case 5, Bridge to the Turnabout, while playing as Edgeworth, you are presented the opportunity to peer into Iris' heart. Specifically in regards to a secret she is withholding from Phoenix, someone she was romantically involved with. During which, if the player fails to present the correct evidence specifically for the second Psyche-Lock, an interesting conversation concerning the nature of secrets occurs.

I have seen talk of this dialogue, but no footage or screenshots, so I took the liberty of getting them myself. The full conversation and my further thoughts will be found under the cut.

You MUST present incorrect evidence during the second Psyche-Lock. This dialogue is laughably easy to miss, which is why I could find zero footage of it. (Sorry if the formatting for this sucks)

(Interesting to note: the music stops playing here.)

Incidentally, Iris' secret is that she developed romantic feelings for Phoenix while dating him in college (disguised as her twin sister). Edgeworth affirms her thoughts, confirming that he does indeed have a secret of similar nature deep within his heart and soul; "It takes one to know one." It cannot be said what exactly this secret of his is, but every real plot point behind Edgeworth has been more or less resolved by this point in the series. He found his path as a prosecutor, the truth behind his involvement in the DL-6 incident was concluded, so... What's left? Reading between the lines, this only really seems to lead us to one answer. It has something to do with romantic feelings. I truly can't see it being anything else, even with a critical mind.

Just mere moments ago, Iris had inquired as to what Edgeworth and Phoenix' relationship was. Edgeworth (famously) responds that Wright is a "dear and indispensable friend". Wonder if Iris gleamed something deeper from that comment, then? ;P Keep in mind: she makes these comments directly because Edgeworth avoided presenting Phoenix Wright's profile.

"he just like me fr" - iris probably

Now, just for completion's sake, let's see what happens when you present Phoenix's profile and break the Psyche-Lock.

I have a lot of thoughts regarding this string of text from the two of them. This is a huge reach from an admittedly shipper-crazed brain, but aren't Edgeworth's retorts here... interesting? He does not know this girl, but he knows that the two of them are important to one another. We can assume it's likely that he is pushing for this for Wright's sake, rather than Iris'. At this point it's fair to say that Edgeworth has some basic understanding of her secret (the feelings, at least), and he doesn't benefit from her telling Phoenix her secret. So why is he adamant that she does it? Especially when he's, apparently, holding a secret of similar nature himself? Projecting, perhaps?

"But it's pointless..." "Why would you say that?"

Why indeed.

(EDIT) I was thinking about this feverishly, and I had another thought. What if the "darkness in his heart" and his "secret" has something to do with jealousy? Still in context of romantic feelings... it starts to make sense that this could fit into the puzzle as well. By this point it was already established to Edgeworth that Phoenix and Iris share an intimate connection of some kind, and with all of this pressuring (including the words the two of them share before Edgeworth leaves the Detention Centre), it sort of adds up. "Uncovering the truth" in order to "get rid of the deep-seated darkness in [his] heart" - could this refer to closure? As in, if Iris comes forth to Phoenix Wright with her secret, and there is some level of reciprocation, would this make Edgeworth's own secret/feelings "pointless" to confess? I wonder.

One last note I'd like to make is that this is the first time we view Edgeworth through the 'protagonist lens', and that a great deal of care was put into having the player truly feel like they are Miles Edgeworth in this moment. His mannerisms, choice of words and thought patterns are decidedly very different than Phoenix's when you are in control of them, as I'm sure most people would agree. Therefore, I feel comfortable proposing that a lot of what he says here isn't filler, and in fact is very deliberately worded.

I think this post also deserves a spot here.

Diehard Narumitsu/Wrightworth shippers are likely already aware of this conversation's existence. However, due to the circumstances necessary to see it, I wasn't able to find any screenshots. I hope this was interesting to read, at least... Thanks for reading!

[rekino2114]

[Me checking tumblr this morning]

Oh hey neat I have 500 followers now

WAIT I HAVE 500 FOLLOWERS NOW?

Genuinely, I never thought this would happen, and to think I started this blog just because I was sick and bored one day.

I cannot express my gratitude for all the support you've shown me. It means so much that you like my stuff and every like,reblog request and follow is very much appreciated and means a lot. Thank you so much. I'll definitely continue writing stuff for you.

And here's to another 500

So I have an announcement now. To celebrate this milestone I'll add two fandoms to the masterlist, one of which I'll let you guys choose(because as a yttd fan there's few things I like more than a good old fashioned majority vote)

The first fandom is gonna be from one of my favorite things to write for:fanganronpas. I've narrowed the choices down to three of them and I wanted to let you choose which one you'd like to see me write for the most

Don't worry I will still add the fangans that don't win the vote later, probably when we get more chapters or I reach more milestones

I'll leave you with some small drabbles/incorrect quotes with the main girls from the fangans you can choose from for today's post.

Thank you so much again for the milestone and hope you have a great day

Cancel(drf:sh)

[You and cancel are making out on the couch in your dorm]

Y/n:usually you're never this affectionate, what's up?

Cancel:What? Can't I show you my love once in a while?

Y/n:awww, you love me?

Cancel:yes, don't I say it enough?

Y/n:definitely not

Cancel:uh, just shut up and kiss me

[You continue making out until enigma walk in the room]

Enigma:Hey cancel have you see-

[She immediately pulls out while blushing intensely]

Cancel:Why are you here? Do you not know how to knock?

Enigma:geez sorry I didn't mean to-

Cancel:you still did, so go away

[He walks out as cancel looks away, still embarrassed]

Y/n:......guess you couldn't predict that

Cancel:[blushing] s-shut up

Akira hayasaka(dr:hd)

R/g/n:Call me, cutie~

[She says while handing you a piece of paper with her number]

Y/n:.....I actually-

[She walks away before you can even finish]

Y/n:[sigh]

[You throw the paper away and approach akira, who's still glaring at the girl]

Akira:what a bitch, she didn't let you finish half your sentences

Y/n:Yeah,you're way better

Akira:Did you really have any doubts~?

Y/n:[giggle] no

Akira:Good.......by the way, do you know what her name is?

Y/n:No, she didn't even tell me that can you believe that? Why do you wanna know anyway?

Akira:..........no reason

Y/n:.....Kira, you're not thinking about killing her....right?

Akira:No,I'm a hitman, not a murderer

Y/n:Oh good

Akira:.....that being said, I wouldn't mind someone putting a hit on her

Y/n:.......

Anko hibana(bdr:cp)

Anko:[gasp] How can you tell such things about me, hiro!? and I thought we were friends, I am not clingy with y/n!

Hiroto:.......

[You suddenly walk into the room]

Y/n:Hey babe do you wanna-

Anko:[gasp]

[She immediately runs to hug you tightly

Anko:Oh,how are you, my sweet and cute pookie

Y/n:....g-good thanks

Anko:I bet it's better now that I'm here riiiiiight~?

Y/n:y-yeah

Anko:[giggle] good answer

[She starts peppering your face in kisses]

Hiroto:You seriously don't see what I mean?

Anko:hm? What were we talking about again?

Hiroto:........

Anko:sorry it's just that y/n takes up all the space in my mind when I see them, in fact, we're going out now

Y/n:w-wait we are?

Anko:so call me if you need me ok hiro?

Hiroto:.......

Anko:I'll take that as a yes

[She grabs your hand and drags you outside]

[p0orbaby]

Dead Plate

summary: Natasha can’t cook. You love to let her know. She loves to be told.

warnings: suggestive but not explicit, language, slight sub!dom vibes? probably some terribly incorrect cooking terms in there

a/n: someone suggested chef!reader ages ago, so here’s something small

word count: 1.3k

-

“You’re doing that all wrong”

The sound of your voice caused Natasha to jump. So much so that the wooden spoon she was using clattered against the side of the pan and onto the floor.

“Sneaking up on someone in front of an open flame is dangerous, you know”

“Well it’s not as dangerous as what’s going on in that pot” you countered as you looked over her shoulder with a grimace.

“I’ve followed the recipe you wrote down! So if it’s bad then that’s on you”

“Right. Because apparently I said that spoons and whisks where interchangeable”

She was about to answer when she read your now food covered notes, and did in fact find she’d been using the wrong utensil all along.

“You could’ve picked an easier one for your first try. Even the best chefs struggle with a roux from time to time”

All Natasha could do was pout and cross her arms over her chest in defeat.

“Hey, don’t pull that face” you said as you tied your apron around yourself. Getting ready to either salvage the food or start over entirely. “Come over here and help, you can be my sous chef”

“Do I have to?”

“Ah, that’s not what we say now, is it?”

A shiver ran down her spine at your tone. Assertive. Commanding. Sexy as fuck.

“No. Chef”

“That’s what I thought. So come and stand over here and help”

“Yes chef”

Natasha washed her hands in the basin and promptly stood next to you. The few extra inches you had on her had her craning her neck upwards. Waiting patiently to follow any instructions you’d give her.

“You’ve added too much flour. So we need to add more milk. Can you measure two tablespoons and pour them into the pot for me?”

This time selecting the appropriate utensils, she did what you asked. Just as obedient as a trained puppy. Always wanting to impress.

“Perfect. Now we'll turn the heat down slightly, and I want you to stand in front of me at the stove and whisk until there's no lumps”

She wasn’t listening. She was looking at your hands, your forearms. The way they tensed as you turned the gas down.

“Earth to Natasha '' you promoted, smirking at the absent expression on the redhead's face.

“Sorry”

You took her wrist, pressed the whisk into her palm and maneuvered her so her back was touching your front. Caged in. Trapped.

“You know how to whisk, right? Or do you need me to assist you with that too?”

Without a word, Natasha lifted her hand and placed the whisk in the pot and started moving it back and fourth with speed. Bubbles being created in the milk at the repetitive motion.

She felt your hand at her elbow the next second.

“Too fast. Be a little more gentle” you whispered in her ear.

So she slowed her pace. Focusing on your breath against the skin of her neck and the pressure of your hands as they squeezed at her waist.

“Good girl. See how it’s getting thicker? Means you’re doing a perfect job”

“Thank you, Chef,” she breathed.

“Now, what else does the recipe say?” A rhetorical question as you reached around her form and picked up your own notes from the kitchen counter. “Cheese. Did you grate it already?”

She nodded.

“Words, Natasha”

“Yes chef. I left it in the refrigerator”

She missed the feel of your body against hers as soon as you stepped away. And the chill of the air from the fridge made her shiver. Goosebumps appearing on her skin instantly.

“And the macaroni?”

Oh

“I was going to boil that after,” Natasha admitted slowly. Realising her mistake as soon as you mentioned the other key ingredient.

“Oh dear, Natasha. You really did fuck up didn’t you?”

Your voice wasn’t judgemental. Not really. She knew you were playing, but that made the whole thing even more enjoyable. Your normal carefree attitude replaced by one of assertiveness with hints of superiority.

She probably loved it all a little too much.

Loved the way you tutted at her forgetfulness. Loved the way you moved around the kitchen, brushing past her with intent. It was all very calculated. She knew that. But she relished in the attention all the same.

“You need to do better, Natalia. Your job requires you to be well fuelled. And that means learning how to cook. I may not always be around to help you”

Her legs clenched together subconsciously at the insult. How you made her feel so weak she never knew. It was a stark contrast to why she was like outside of the house. Being a criminal lawyer meant she had to be stern, level headed, even ruthless sometimes. That all flies out the window as soon as you call her names, or roll your eyes at her incompetence at simple tasks.

“I can cook” Natasha’s response was merely just for show. She couldn’t cook. Unless you call tv dinners or oven chips cooking. Which you naturally didn’t. Her ex did the cooking and with him gone, she was left to dine on meals that were mainly made up from the colour beige.

Until you, that was.

“Sure you can sweetheart. If you could, I wouldn’t have to hold your hand while you tried and failed to make this now, would I?”

She shook her head. Bashful and innocent as you drained the water from the pot of now cooked macaroni.

Wait. She can’t have been ogling you that long surely?

“Do you need my help to stir it together or are you up to trying not to make a mess?”

She grabbed the spoon you’d held out for her and your response was to slide her between you and the surface once again. Marble digging into her hips deliciously as you lent forward and placed your chin on her shoulder. Fingers kneading softly at her sides.

“See, you can achieve what you want if you use your brain a little” you encouraged softly as she stirred the pasta into the sauce. “Mac and cheese now, beef wellington next”

“I think I’ll leave the cooking to you” she decided as she dipped her finger in the pot and licked the excess off. Moaning in joy at the flavour.

She went to dip her finger back in so you could have a taste, but you grabbed her wrist, nails almost digging into her skin, halting her movements.

“Don’t you dare put your hand back in there. Wash your hands or use a damn spoon”.

Her breath hitched. “Yes, chef”

You moved away from her again, but this time you smacked her behind as she shimmied up to the sink. Your action was relayed by a squeal from and an out of character glare at you from over her shoulder.

All you did in response was lean smuggly against the frame of the door again. Relishing in the fact you could turn her to jelly with a few harsh words.

“That was fun”

“Was it? All you did was insult me”

“All's fair in love and war. And I didn’t hear you complaining. You’re hot when you’re flustered”. There it was again. The heat that ran through her body at your backhanded compliments. “And you’d look even hotter flustered and naked”

She’d play along. “Is that so?”

“Oh I’m positive. Wanna find out?”

“Sure”

“What was that?” You shouted as you turned away from her and started ascending the stairs.

“Yes chef”

“Better”

Natasha almost melted into a puddle on the tile floor beneath her when you caught her gaze and tilted your head in the direction you were headed, prompting her to follow.

The mac and cheese could wait until after she’d worked up an appetite for something that wasn’t you.

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

I am autistic. You would think that would make working in the heavily regulated and rigidly ruled field of being a lab scientist would be a great fit for me because of that. But it turns out it’s actually just infuriating beyond belief. Non-autistic people have no idea how to communicate, and apparently find joy in making everything unclear. I’m well aware of that from conversations and such, but I had foolishly assumed that it would be different for scientific lab work. When someone sends me their request for me to run tests on their experimental drug product, I would expect that they would provide clear details on what they want me to do. This was of course an incorrect assumption. And then when I reach out to them as ask if they could clarify what they mean, I assumed they could, oh I don’t know, tell me what they want me to do?!???!?

Apparently non-autistic people enjoy communicating by sending each other conflicting information and then being unable to answer when asked for clarity. I guess they probably like how when, I guess one of the many options of things I could do that fit their vague “instructions”, they then get the opportunity to tell me how foolish I was for doing it incorrectly. I cannot read minds, especially not ones as apparently labyrinthian as theirs.

And then when they are unable to clarify to me what I need to know via the extremely convenient communication method of text-based messages, they decide we need to schedule a meeting to “discuss”. Great. Now my entire day’s schedule is ruined. And now I have to meet with these people so they can be unclear on what they want verbally and we have to repeat ourselves at each other for an hour until I can somehow convince them to tell me what they fucking want. And then hope that I can actually process the sound properly and keep it in my memory in the time between it entering my ears and my pen moving on the page, because there’s no goddamn record of a conversation I can reference later and if I get a detail wrong I have to start the process all over again when I realize something is unclear.

And if I get an actual answer to the question, I will of course ask if they can verify that is what they meant, a simple yes or other word of affirmation to tell me that they did not misspeak or mistype or just to reassure me in some way that they wont have an excuse to change their mind later and say I interpreted it wrong. This seems like the most simple and reasonable request, but they really don’t seem to like it. I simply repeat what they said, and ask if that is correct, and for some of them that’s apparently a sin. I ask “oh that’s what you want me to do? Can we do that?” And expect a “yes” in response, instead they tell me to see the message I’m asking for their affirmation on. That’s not a yes! That’s not an answer to my question! I now have to go on with uncertainty in my feeble human mind because it’s apparently way too fucking hard to say yes. Fuck off

I need the whole world to be autistic. I’d rather endure 1 million heated debates over which way is the optimal way to format something argued by people who are so stubbornly stuck in their ways that the heat death of the universe will happen before they cede their ground, than have to deal with these non-autistics and their guessing games for the rest of my life. I can’t fucking do this shit. Why are you even requesting testing from me if you don’t even know what you want tested and how, why are you like this?!?????

[fairy-writes]

New to requesting so please tell me if this is the incorrect way to do it Im obssessed with your writing can I request

Uta x human reader angst/comfort

SCARS

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Uta x Reader

Word Count: 

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Human!Reader, CCG Investigator!Reader, Angst, Comfort

Notes: I used THIS prompt by @whumpster-dumpster as… well… a prompt!

This is also the same reader used in both THIS and THIS oneshot!

TW for blood and injuries

__________________________________________________________________________

Uta should’ve known you had scars. 

It was practically part of your job description as a CCG Investigator. 

He just didn’t expect them to be so… severe. 

It was an accident, really, seeing them. Uta had popped by your apartment after a long week, intending to take you out on your weekly date night. He had let himself in with his key and spied your briefcase containing your quinque and white trenchcoat tossed on the couch. 

So you were home. 

He had changed into indoor slippers and meandered his way down the hall. Knocking on your bedroom door and hearing no answer, he opened it and peeked his head inside. 

Only to come face to face with your bloody back. 

How had he not smelled it before? He was a ghoul, after all, maybe he just wasn’t paying attention to his nose.

Admittedly, at first, he panicked. But he managed to school his face into a perfect calm when you whirled around to face him. 

“What are you doing here?!” You demanded, and he shrugged, the scent of drying blood tickling his nose.

“I did knock.” Was all he said as he took your demand as an invitation to enter your bedroom. 

The sheets of your bed are rumpled and bloodstained. Maybe you had been sleeping and woken up because of the blood? 

Your white button-down is in a crumpled heap on the floor, and you’re holding a roll of bandages in red-stained fingertips. Uta’s words make you scoff, and you turn around to try and keep wrapping your injuries. 

“I asked why you were here.” You say sharply, and he hums as he sits behind you on the bed.

“It’s date night.” He says simply, and you let out a pained laugh,

“I don’t think I’m in the best position to go out on the town tonight.” You say, and he gently pries the bandages from your hands and wraps your torso for you. 

He’s done this before, but never to this extent. A scratch here, some stitches there, he forgets sometimes that you humans are so fragile. 

Uta is gentle as he passes the roll from hand to hand and wraps your injuries. 

Your wounds are deep, though not deep enough to need stitches. They’re angry, red, and inflamed as if an infection is beginning to set in. If he had to guess, you are probably hurt because of a fellow ghoul. He shakes his head. He can ask for details later. 

When he’s done, he secures the wrappings and pats your shoulder twice. But his eyes keep tracing the raised ridges of skin that decorate your back like Christmas lights. 

At least, until you turn around and catch just what he’s looking at. 

And your face turns angry.  You push Uta away with harsh words.

“What? What’s your problem, huh?” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow. 

You keep going, 

“Are you afraid to look at my scars? Disgusted? You think you’re too good for me now that I’m ‘damaged goods’?”

“Of course not.” He says gently, trying to calm you down, but you just keep going. Tears well up and streak your cheeks. But you push him away when he tries to reach for you.

“Then look at me like I’m still a person! Look at me like you used to! Like you love me!” 

He finally pins your arms down and pulls you into a hug. Gently, of course, so as not to aggravate your back. He presses a kiss to your temple.

“I still love you. Fiercely and unconditionally. A few scars aren’t going to change that.” He says and feels you thump his chest with a weak fist. It doesn’t hurt. Not physically, at least. But his heart breaks at your shaking form in his arms. 

“Then why look at me like I’ve changed?” You whisper, and he rocks you back and forth.

“Because you have changed. We all change when you think about it.” He says and feels your tears wet his sweater.

“Don’t get deep with me. Not when I’m injured.” He huffs out a chuckle and pulls back, checking you over once again. 

You’re okay. 

And that’s all he can ask for.

[vaneshifts]

INTRODUCTION POST

Hello! My name is Vane. I'm 19 years old, Canadian, a Virgo and an ambivert with anger issues.

I've been attempting to shift since 2020, during the pandemic and my own personal crisis that made that year likely the most miserable point in my life. I have not yet shifted, but I have come very close, especially recently.

Below I've listed some of the fandoms I'm "part of" (often I find that fandom behaviour can be rather toxic and try to avoid it), places that I'm shifting, as well as some information about "fictional" places that you can use however you see fit to determine your image of me. I've also listed the rules and expectations of this blog, and if you don't agree with them, please DNI. If rules are broken, you will be blocked.

Favourite Shifting Takes (of mine):

Permashifting; I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers

Shifting Realities VS Shifting Goals (mindset)

Rules (please consider before interacting):

No anti-shifters

Keep your shifttok logic FAR away from me

No discouraging comments to myself or others

If you think my information is incorrect, please inform me POLITELY, and we can discuss it if you'd like (I generally won't post something if I haven't made sure my information is right, but everyone makes mistakes, so if I am in fact wrong, I'd be happy to correct it)

I don't approve of of any DRs specifically made for killing or hurting people and I do not support them, so do not encourage or speak about them on my page

That being said, I think the concept that you should NEVER hurt/kill anyone in any DR is bullshit, so if it's something like Marvel or ASOIAF, Maze Runner, etc. where it may become necessary, I think that is perfectly acceptable

Race changing doesn't hurt anybody because the reality where you are a different race already exists so leave people alone if that's what they choose to do (but if you do race change, please make sure you're being respectful because other people's experiences are not your costumes)

Shifting to feel loved, to experience a better childhood, to have more control over your life or even just as escapism is perfectly fine. Shifting is a tool at your disposal and up to your own discretion.

Age-changing is fine

Permashifitng is not unhealthy or bad, it is very possible, and if you choose to do it, I wish you all the best

All shifters are valid, including those who haven't shifted yet or who are still trying to reset from all of the misinformation they were likely fed from early shifttok

If I missed anything, I may come back to update this list later

Now onto the more fun part!

Fandoms:

Avatar (not TLA)

DC Cinematic

Harry Potter Golden Trio Era

Marauders Era

Good Omens

Game of Thrones

House of the Dragon

Hazbin Hotel / Helluvaboss

The Hobbit & Lord of the Rings

How to Train Your Dragon (Including DOB & RTTE)

Hunger Games

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Once Upon a Time

Percy Jackson & The Olympians (Riordanverse)

Rings Of Power

Shadow and Bone

Six of Crows

Star Wars

Stranger Things

Supernatural

She-Ra

The Vampire Diaries

Teen Wolf

The Umbrella Academy

The Witcher (TV series)

This list will probably be added to at some point TBH

Places I Am Shifting To:

Harry Potter Golden Trio Era

Marauders Era

Good Omens

Game of Thrones

House of the Dragon

Helluvaboss

The Hobbit

Lord of the Rings

How to Train Your Dragon

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rings Of Power

Shadow and Bone

Six of Crows

Supernatural

The Vampire Diaries

The Umbrella Academy

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Patronus: fox

Marauders Kinnie: 75% Sirius Black, 25% Regulus Black

PJO Cabin: 12 (Dionysus)

TVD Species: Vampire

If you have any questions about me, my shifting journey, or shifting in general, please reach out and I will do my best to answer them! Happy Shifting! <3

[sunny-mercya]

Hey, Brother do you still believe in one another?

14. Osaka Trip - Rising Hope

Heiji Hattori x Male Reader | Plantonic! Shinichi Kudo x Brother Reader

Fandom -> Detective Conan/Case Closed

Masterlist | Previous / Next |

Reaching for the Stars, even if they are far away

It's the beginning of a new dream,

I do still believe

Getting into the house, where you presumably being held captured, was fairly easy for Conan—all he had to do was to climb on some trashcans (or whatever else stood there around) and pickpocket the small bathroom window—and for once Shinichi felt thankful, sending gratitude to the above, for being shrunk into a Child.

Letting himself fall down the small distance from the window to the floor, Conan tried to be quiet as possible—even though, he knew Daiki wasn't in the house anymore as the man had went out around thirty minutes ago and didn't returned, so it was safe to say that Daiki would be gone for some time—an hour or two probably—in case of there being a partner, ventured through the bathroom and into the hallway.

Conan listen, straining his hearing, for any kind of noises—the ones out of ordinary, like television—because a captive victim would and could never watch television—there weren't any and Conan sighed in relief.

Now, Conan thought, where could you be? There wouldn't be many options in this house and it didn't seem as if there was a basement—so the only few options to hide you away, holding you hostage, would be in a bedroom.

Conan took a wild guess, which he normally wouldn't do—as guessing in any kind of way is a unpredictable, uncertain mathematical process and could lead to an wrong conclusion or answer, a incorrectness even—but time's running thin and so he went straight upstairs to the bedrooms.

Conan found you in the second bedroom, laying on the ground and being covered with heavy blankets. It's strange that the door wasn't locked as you would have the chance to escape anytime soon—but Conan found out why the door never would be needed to be locked.

»[Name]? It's me, Conan, I'm getting you out of here.«

Conan kneeled down to your lumpy form, shaking—in what he guessed—your shoulder, whispering loudly enough for you to hear.

»Oh Conan, that's real sweet of you......but I don't think I can escape this.....«

Your voice, besides your mumbling of an reply—which Conan could barely hear, with how quiet you spoke—sounded hoarse and husked rough—sandpaper dry—as if you had screamed your throat and lungs raw—and every use of your vocal cords felt like a strain.

»What do you mean, you can't? Please, [Name], get up! You need to get up!«

Conan shook you again, trying to get a rise out of you—to get you up, even when it would mean he somehow has to carry you out—but to no avail, you didn't moved an inch.

When he shook you harder, moving your body more to the sides and hearing the rattling sound of chains—Conan halts in his movements, being frozen in a stupor.

»See? I told you, I'm not able to escape this. Go without me, Conan. Save yourself instead of me.«

You turned towards him, tired expression morphing into a gentle smile—wanting to let Conan known, that it was more than just okay now to leave you behind here—in the clutches of Daiki—moving the blankets away and holding up your wrists to symbolise just how serious you were about this.

Even with the small nightstand lamp, could Conan see how raw and bloody your skin had been rubbed under the metal of the chains. Chains—more like handcuffs—which were around your wrists and ankles.

Conan gulped, balling his hands into fists, looking at your face—which shows more than just mere exhaustion, a sort of accepting death with batting eyes and how loopy you looked to bed—and hoping to still see this certain glint of survival and life in your eyes—hoping, almost praying—wanting to beg—that you hadn't completely given up on yourself and your will, which is still a dwindling desire of tightrope act depending on a day's mood, to live.

Conan—Shinichi—too had seeing you close at entering death's door twice already—wishing desperately to never have to repeat such heart frighting fear again—and it had been moments like these, which thrived is sense of protection and justice—because all he ever wanted was to protect you, his dear little brother.

So hearing you say such things, such nonsense of wanting to stay here and being freely a victim of everything possible inhuman injustice doing—surged a wave of anger through him and Conan wanted to scream at you for being so insensitive, ignorant, stupid—selfish even—but then, while gazing at the hidden sadness in your tired eyes, he was reminded of Narumi.

The anger turned into a heartbeat of sadness and frustration—towards himself for not being able to be here, even though he was, at your side and lending you the strength and support you needed—albeit all that, Conan knew what he must do, to bring at least a bit of feistiness back in you.

»You can't give up now! Not when Shinichi has called and said he will be home soon! So, please [Nickname], get up! Aren't you a fighter?!«

»Did he now? Thank you Conan, but don't be silly, Shinichi never calls anymore—not me at least......oh, silly boy, You only can be a fighter if there's something worth to fight for.«

»No, no! He did call! I promise you he did! I–wait here, I'll get your phone and show you!«

You didn't stop Conan when he sprinted out of the room. Wouldn't be able to, not with how tightly you're chained at floor. You also hadn't the heart to tell him that your phone wasn't here—Daiki had probably destroyed it already by now.

But you found it endearing how Conan tried to give you one more surge of positivity in this dry situation of possible doom.

Conan returned back some minutes later—taking a few deep breaths to make it believable for you, that he really went searching for your phone, instead of letting known that he had it with him and sending you a SMS from his second phone.

»See! Shinichi did call and wrote you!« like an excited Child, Conan hold your phone up—showing you what's on your screen.

1 Missed Call from Shin-Chan♡,

1 SMS from Shin-Chan♡ ;

Sorry for the late response. Had some tough cases to solve, will be home soon, [Nickname]. Don't worry too much and congrats for your wins, will always believe in you!

– Shin-chan♡

You sniffed, lips wobbling and tears already spilling from your eyes as you read the SMS. You were confused how Shinichi could send you an SMS, when you were certain you had blocked his number—then again, with how many times you had to change your number, you couldn't remember if you had or not.

Not that you cared about this in the moment, because all what matters right now, was that Shinichi—your dear brother, which you sometimes thought would be forever gone—had wrote you after all these damned months of uncertainty and waiting in which you worried yourself sick.

Too good to be true, too good to be true. It's a fraud, a trick. Shinichi wouldn't send you a SMS, he doesn't care about you. A lovely meant lie it is.

»Don't be silly......Shinichi wouldn't text me, he doesn't care......don't be stupid.« you muttered, frowning at Conan

Conan frowned as well, anger starting to flow back and getting the worst out of him. What happened to you? You never were one to quit so damn fast and easily, so why? Why now?

»Since when do you give up so easily like a coward?! Aren't Heiji and I and the people you love worth it to fight for? Why do you stop now to believe, huh?! You promised to fight as long as you have faith!«

Maybe, you thought, glancing at Conan—who resembles so much Shinichi in younger years and looked at you with pleading eyes of upcoming hope—Shinichi is truly coming back home now and if that's true—even when it would just be another false hope in the end—than you might stand up one last time again.

Because the last thing you wanted, was the disappointment Shinichi would feel—when he knows you hadn't given it your all, that you didn't fought back like the fighter you promised him to be.

»Okay, Okay. We're getting out of here, munchkin. Bring me a knife from the kitchen. Time to free myself from these dumbass chains.« you told Conan, who nodded and sprinted out of the room again.

~~~

Conan looked at you with raised eyebrows, uncertainty written in his face. Breaking open the chains with a mere kitchen knife? Yeah, he wasn't so sure if that's gonna work at all. Not to forget that you could easily cut open your arteries in the process and bleed out.

You only smiled with a burst of self confidence at him, sitting cross legged on your makeshift bed.

»Daiki won't be back till Ten pm, said he's getting......a uhm surprise. Anyways. Gives us enough time.« you told Conan, starting with the cuffs at your ankles.

Sliding the knife in between the tiny space between your skin and the cuffs, you twisted it—so that the sharp side faced the metal—and started to bend it upward. You repeated the procedure a few times, ignoring the sharp strings whenever the knife slipped away and cut into your skin. Soon enough your ankles were free.

The handcuff like chains on your wrists took a bit longer as it wasn't all that easy. Though, slicing two times a bit too deep into your wrists, you were able to break out of them easily as well.

While you, in a drastic way—because in your words, searching for the dammed keys would take way too long and you had the right strength for it after all—broke yourself free from the chains, Conan let his eyes wander over you.

In all honesty, Conan didn't want to know what Daiki had done to you. Not with how your skin looked like—all bruised up, bloody and beat and colours of blue, purple, green and yellow mixing together as one.

Only four days had went by since you were kidnapped, but four days and these endless hours were enough to inflict you more than enough harm.

Your oversized shirt rose up a bit, showing the marks—various shapes of bites and cuts—around your thighs—and once again Conan felt not only anger flaring up, at Daiki for violating you in so many inhuman ways, but also disappointment in himself again because he wasn't able to protect at all, like how he promised he would.

The pained hiss from you, broke Conan out of his thoughts. Focusing back on you, Conan watched—his stomach slightly aching from the the sight, with how bloody and gory like your neck looked like—how you bend the barbed wire, which acted as a chain around your neck—and Conan thought how absolutely insane Daiki has to be, to use wire in such ways—and freeing yourself from it.

»Okay, okay. How did you get in here Conan?«

»Through the bathroom window downstairs, but I'm not sure of you fit through it...«

»We'll try. Okay, now first I need some shorts and a jacket and then we go.« you said, more to yourself.

You felt much more secure after you pulled some shorts on and fresh underwear as well. During these four days, being so nakedly exposed to someone like Daiki, was more than just sickening uncomfortable.

~~~

Once outside, Conan looked for Heiji—who said he would wait outside and keep watch—but he was nowhere to be seen.

Heiji also didn't answer his phone, when Conan tried to call him for a fourth time.

»And where do you think you're going, darling?«

Fuck.

Scooping Conan up in your arms, you bolted in the opposite direction from where Daiki stood.

Open your eyes and you will defeat the fear, which chains us

Because the world is waiting for us

[tarithenurse]

Sticky Situation

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing/starring: Dean Winchester x fem!angel!reader Word count: 2148 Content: Depiction of gore, smut, naïve reader, sex pollen/stuff so a bit rough and unceremoniously, probably incorrect monster and angel lore, confessions of sorts, doubts, fear of dub/non-con (but it’s not – you’ll see), also some reference to soft smut. A/N: The second result of the CAH-inspired fics. This time it ended up with a SPN-fic. The concept is simple: I’d picked a bunch of black cards from Cards Against Humanity and let you all vote on what should be the basis of my next project. You chose “Why am I sticky?”. So this is really not my fault. Betaed by the lovely TanteFrutsel-CreativeNurse.

Sticky Situation

... Dean ...

Fishing his phone out of the pocket, Dean hits a few buttons and listens to the dial tone.

Sam picks up on the third ring: “How’d it go?” he sounds distracted.

The hunter surveys the chaos. Three monsters down. [Y/N] is kneeling over one of them, angel blade poking gingerly at a decapitated corpse. She and Dean had been hunting what they thought was a nest of vampires at first but the angel had quickly verified that, no: this was something else. Something new even to her. Then again, she hasn’t been an angel for that long, according to herself.

“Why...am I sticky?”

“Comes with the job,” the younger brother chuckles.

“But it’s pink!” Sam had been their go-to when they realized it wasn’t vamps, suggesting the usually efficient method of killing. Now Dean hoped there were other answers...although they’d manage to end the immediate threat.

There’s a moment of hesitation. “Not just blood?”

“No. The blood was black but then one of them barfed on us. Is it gonna kill us?”

This time the pause is filled with pages ruffling. Meanwhile [Y/N] has taken to investigate the colourful substance she too is covered in. With a snap of the fingers it’s gone and she does the same to Dean who nods at her gratefully, making her smile shyly. She’s okay although a bit...inexperienced. Technically, she’s more than okay. In fact, she’s rather cute and Dean has had a hard time getting her off of his mind even when she’s not around.

“Oh,” Sam’s voice cuts through the derailing train of thoughts, “so good news is, you’re not gonna die -”

“Thank fuck.”

“- but these are a kind of incubus and if you gotten any of the ‘pink stuff’ on you, you will start to feel -”

But Dean doesn’t listen. A potential crisis averted, he just finishes the call and stuffs the phone in his pocket.

“Thanks for removing the junk.”

“What was it? I’ve never encountered such creatures before.”

“Nothing that can kill us.” Dean runs a hand across his neck – it’s starting to get warm and his clothes are chafing. Maybe the stuff did have some effect. Should I have listened to Sam? Nah. Dean’s feeling confident. After all: he’s got an angel to fix him if he gets wonky from whatever the shit was.

“Are you alright?” [Y/N] asks.

Truth be told, Dean’s less alright than a moment ago. Hot and bothered, his clothes feel uncomfortable against his skin and he’s starting to feel another problem, one that he’s not ready to deal with: having the angel he desires nearby. Shaking his head, he tries to refocus one something else than her figure and scent.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he croaks – unconvincingly.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she notices the pearls of sweat starting to form on his forehead. She doesn’t believe him. “Dean. Let me help you.”

She reaches out before he can tell her not to and places a delicate hand on his cheek. It feels like a summer’s breeze passing through and into him, momentarily relieving the ache that’s growing along with his cock...but as soon as she’s done, it all returns at full force.

Dean groans the moment she lets her hand fall from his clammy skin. “Let’s just get back to the Bunker.”

“I don’t understand,” she trails after him out of the warehouse anyways, “my powers...”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But you’re in pain.”

He dismisses her even though it's true. His entire body is burning up. It feels like...like he needs to take an ice cold shower but he instinctively understands that the fix to this won’t be as simple. He knows that he needs to cum. Regardless of having dreamt of [Y/N] in oh so many ways, he still realizes that he can't ask this of her.

They make it to the Impala in silence and Dean pops the trunk, tossing the weapons in carelessly. He’s just about to slam it closed when he hears a foreign sound. A soft whimper. Looking up at his friend, he sees her leaning heavily onto the car, a hand clutching her lower abdomen. Panic rushes through him: did she get injured?

“Dean...I...what’s happening?” she pleads and when she looks over, he sees how blown her pupils are. “It hurts. And I...I...crave...” her voice trails off.

The hunter knows he ought to keep his distance but seeing [Y/N] like this overrides everything, even his own lust for a brief moment. Rushing to her side, he wraps an arm around her to support some of her weight, but the nearness is dangerous as her scent threatens to overwhelm him. A new tang has been woven into it. Jasmines. Strong, sweet, intoxicating.

He grits his teeth as he tries to power through what's clouding his mind. “Hey, look at me,” he says.

She doesn’t so he turns her face towards him with a hand cupping her cheek. Right away, she leans into his touch, sighing. He feels it too, the momentary relief that the skin contact brings. Wanting more, he grabs her face with both hands and presses his forehead to hers.

“[Y/N], we’re gonna be fine. It’s just the junk. Sam was saying something about -”

He never gets further as her lips crash onto his. Baffled, Dean relishing in the brief alleviation. It feels even better when he slips his tongue into her mouth, tasting her for the first time. Then the pain spikes in his groin and he is brought back to reality and he basically jumps back a few steps.

At that moment a text pings in and Dean is grateful for the distraction...at least until he reads the few words: “I was wrong: without a sexual release, the pink stuff will kill you.”

There’s a whole other paragraph of information but Dean only picks out a few of the words in his haze. Incubus. Succubus. They all have the same reputation: fucking while devouring their victims. Well at least there will be no devouring but it really does feel like he’s about to die if he doesn’t get some release now.

“Get in the car,” he growls, startling the angel, “get in and...get off. It might help.”

“I don’t understand...” She just stands there, head cocked and eyes brimming with unshed tears.

He groans silently, his own urges threatening to overpower his remaining sense of modesty. “I don’t know if it’s lethal to angels but this...this can kill me. Us, unless you...uhm...cum?” This is not the talk he had ever imagined to have with his crush but oh well...desperate times and all that. “So get in the car, get a hand in your pants, save yourself.”

He turns to open the door for her, one hand discreetly palming his erection through the jeans.

“Dean,” she whispers, “I...don’t know how to.” Of course she doesn’t, she’s an angel. Sweet, innocent, far removed from any ideas about lust. “But it hurts, Dean. Please help me...help yourself too...with me.”

His neck almost breaks at the speed of which he turns his head to look at her. Already, she’s pulling on her clothes, tossing the discarded items to the ground without a care. And fuck, she looks gorgeous.

Dean shouldn’t do it. He should triple check and even then still turn her offer down because it’s not what she really wants. It can’t be. But the last bit of restraint has burned away and he’s on her in two steps, pulling her close so he can drown in her scent again, his lips bearing down on her neck and exposed breasts.

Frantically, [Y/N] tugs at his flannel before resolutely snapping her fingers and suddenly they’re both completely naked. Nothing keeps Dean’s erection from bouncing against her abdomen...and it feels right.

They move feverishly, hands exploring curves and expanses, relishing in the comfort of the contact until that isn’t enough either. They both groan as Dean dips his finger between her legs: she’s drenched. Lifting her, supple legs wrapping around his waist, he stumbles the few steps around to the hood of the car and sits her on the edge, feet resting on the bumper and thighs spread wide so he can see everything. Fucking delicious. He pushes her onto her back, breasts heaving with each laboured breath.

A new pang of pain spears him and the hunter knows what they both need.

He tries to go slow, he really does: running his cock head between the folds so the pre-cum mixes with her juices, lubing him up so he can easily glide in. She’s tight and it’s so freaking good. Inch by inch, he fills her up. The sounds she makes...he could never have imagined anything hotter or filthier coming from her.

“I got you,” he whispers hoarsely as he bottoms out completely.

Hoisting herself up on her elbows, [Y/N]’s gaze is glowing as she implores him: “More. Please move.”

Switching his grip to her waist, Dean pulls out almost completely before ramming back in with a grunt. Again and again and again, spurred on by her sounds. It feels amazing and he knows he can’t last long but there’s still a part of him that wants her to feel good too. He reaches for her clit and begins to rub circles with his thumb, making her moan loudly.

“S-so good!” his angel babbles.

It doesn’t last long for both of them to come undone and Dean collapses onto her. It’s an awkward position but nothing can ruin the post-bliss haze as he feels himself soften a little bit still inside her.

Or so he thinks.

Something does break through the fog soon enough as the lust reignites his body once more. And he can see it’s happening to [Y/N] too.

“Dean,” she begs, breaking his heart.

He kisses her. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable first.”

Then the hunter coaxes her into the wide backseat of the Impala.

...

Dean barely registers that he’s lying on his back in the Impala because there’s another sensation: much more comfortable than usual, his morning wood is nestled snugly in a tight heat and a warm and subtle figure lies on top of him. Seemingly asleep (despite previous claims not to need that sort of mundane arrangements) [Y/N] is breathing slowly with a little smile on her lips. Ever so gently, he manages to pull out but he can’t do anything about the flushness.

What the fuck? Wrecking his brain, only bits and pieces start to come back to him before her eyes flutter open.

“Dean?” she mumbles, squirming only for a fraction of a second before she freezes completely.

She takes a moment to take it all in while sitting up as much as the low roof of the car allows. Nimble hands skirt over her naked body and delve between her legs without any sign of shame.

“Why am I sticky?”

Dean remembers now. He remembers everything and it leaves a sour taste in his mouth because he knows what he did was wrong. He took advantage of her. Afraid to meet her gaze, the hunter breathes deeply before turning his face to find...just a frown. Maybe she can’t recall everything? But no, he sees the moment it all comes back to her.

“Oh,” she gasps.

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N]!” he rushes, “I...what we did...I should never ha-”

A finger lands on his mouth to shush him. “If I remember correctly...you’d have died otherwise?”

That’s true but he knows it would have been better to pick that route rather than throw himself onto her the way he had. He explains as much but she doesn’t seem to understand.

“Dean...even without the risk of impending death...you didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”

“Wait, what?!” That’s the last thing he’d expected to hear.

She smiles shyly. “I’ve been...feeling things about you.” A moment passes where she’s trying to say something more, opening and closing that pretty mouth before eventually settling on: “Have you...do you...?”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean admits before returning to his concerns, “but what I did...I took advantage of you! You couldn’t say no and I’m so sorry!”

“So it would be different if I asked now that I’m not under the influence of the incubus?”

“Yes,” he barely manages to say before she wriggles her pelvis, slick core rubbing along his still happy morning wood.

This time her smile is big, cheeky like he’s never seen before. “Dean...I want to.”

“Fuck...yes!”

Hoisting herself up a bit, she reaches down to align his cock with her entrance before sinking onto him. It feels much better than last night as she slowly rides them both to renewed highs, guided by his hands on her hips.

Upon completion, she collapses onto him, snuggling in with Dean’s cock still buried deep inside.

“Thank you,” [Y/N] mumbles against his neck.

“Anytime, angel.”

[hcoct8xfi]

Okay, so a couple days ago, I made I post while I was in a flare up about how I was irritated with some Kanera fanfiction or some fanfiction involving Kanan Jarrus, which you can find here 👇

I expressed how frustrated I was with some people who will completely write Kanan's blindness out of their fanfiction because it's 'easier' to not have any disabled characters in their story.

I said that if you find yourself struggling to write a disabled character, reach out or take pointers from disabled writers. Well, even though no one asked for it, I decided I should give a few pointers on how to write disabled characters.

Now, before we get started, I wanted to clarify that I myself am disabled. I have a physical disability that causes chronic pain as well as other symptoms that flare. I also have a psychiatric disability as well as being neurodivergent. I did state in my original post that if I was wrong or incorrect in any way, to please educate and correct me. The same thing applies to this post.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Keep this as a golden rule, disabled characters in sci-fi or fantasy, will translate to disabled characters in Alternative Universes. I would argue that Kanan would probably not be a difficult character to write in fanfiction. A good chunk of season 3 and a bit of season 4 in Star Wars Rebels was dedicated to how Kanan copes and accommodates his blindness. Of course there is no acceptable excuse to write out a characters disability out of your story, but, writing Kanan would not be that hard to write and accommodate in your story.

2. So I may get some comments saying, "Well, how do I explain how Kanan became blind in a modern AU?" Well, there's two answers for that, one, that's up to you and how you choose to write that. Second, you don't have to explain how your character became disabled or why your character is disabled. A common misconception is that disabled people have to explain why they are disabled, and that's just not true. It's also rooted in ableism. Phrases like "What happened to you?" or "Why are you using [insert mobility device]?" are ableist and inappropriate to ask because you could possibly be asking someone to relive or rehash trauma that they have. And also, disabled people do not owe you an explanation, nor a justification of their existence. So mind your business and your ableism.

3. Avoid tropes such as the inspiration p*rn, or "tragic burden" in your stories. Again, disabled people do not have to justify their existence by being an "inspiration". Yes, disabled people are capable of doing inspirational things, but we're not inspirational for just existing. Next, don't constantly potray your disabled character as a "tragic burden". Yes, it's a huge adjustment when you have acquired a disability and it can be very burdensome. But, once you learn how to accommodate your disability, such as managing your symptoms, support groups, or finding a community, you start to find your rhythm. Always remember to show the good and the bad that come with disability. Also, remember that we are allowed to be upset about our disability and mourn the life we once had, but, a lot of us do not constantly think about it to the point where that is our only thought throughout the day.

4. This is kind of like number three, but, if your disabled character is in a relationship, do not make it one of those "Well, I see the person, not the disability." Yes, this may sound good at first, but what you're actually saying is that you don't want to acknowledge our disability, and that's a huge problem. Yes, acknowledge us as people, but, acknowledge us as disabled people. Disability does impact our lives, and I personally would not want to be in a relationship with anyone, romantic or friendship, that completely ignored that I'm disabled.

5. It's a VERY good idea to research your characters disability. Research how it may impact your character, if they require any mobility equipment, therapies, or other accommodations. I promise, this research will help you with your character so much. It will help make your character more accurate.

6. Don't put this fear mongering over disability in your story. There's already a lot of stigma surrounding disability as it is. Remember, disability is a part of life, and at some point, we all will become disabled. Some of us just become disabled young or are born disabled. Also, don't not try and demonize mobility aids. Using a wheelchair, crutches, cane, walker, etc. is not a sad or unfortunate thing. They do what they are meant to do, aid our mobility. They help us and give us so much freedom.

7. Listen to more disabled writers. Disabled writers can help a lot with advice and guidance with disabled characters. Listen to their experiences on their disability, how it impacts them, and any sort of ableism they may have faced (if they are willing to talk about it).

8. Have fun writing your disabled characters. Once you get the hang of writing disabled characters, it won't be as hard as you originally thought. Writing disabled characters is not complicated at all, especially when you educate yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope that I was able to assist some of you with writing disabled characters. Just remember that there are so many disabled writers out there that will give tips and pointers on how to write disabled characters. 🫶🏼

[iovebarca]

The Coin Toss - Pablo Gavi

Authors note: send me some requests!

WC: 1300+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, just fluff!

summary: You rely on coin flips to make decisions, leading you to meet Pablo at the park, where you bond over your shared tradition. A coin toss decides on the beginning of a beautiful love story.

Decision-making had always been a daunting task for you. The weight of choosing between two paths, each filled with its own set of uncertainties, often left you paralyzed with indecision. It was during one particularly challenging period in your life that you stumbled upon an unconventional solution, the simple act of flipping a coin.

It started as a whim, a desperate attempt to break free from the cycle of overthinking and second-guessing. One day, faced with a difficult choice, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a coin. With a flick of your thumb, you sent it spinning into the air, leaving its fate to chance.

On this particular day you couldn't decide if you wanted to go to the park or stay in your apartment to study for an upcoming business exam. "Heads, I go to the park," you whispered, the words a silent prayer to the whims of fate.

As the coin arced gracefully through the air, time seemed to slow to a crawl. And then, with a soft clink, it landed in your palm, revealing its verdict. "Heads," you repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Looks like the park it is."

You arrived at the park with a weight on your shoulders, a decision looming in the forefront of your mind. The vast expanse of greenery seemed to beckon you, promising solace and clarity amidst the chaos of life.

As you wandered through the winding paths, the sunlight filtering through the leaves above, you felt the tension begin to ease from your muscles. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers filled the air, carrying with it a sense of tranquility that you desperately needed.

Finally, you found yourself drawn to a secluded bench nestled beneath the shade of a grand oak tree. It seemed to call to you, offering a sanctuary where you could gather your thoughts and find the answers you sought. Only there was a guy sitting on the bench.

Approaching him tentatively, you cleared your throat, your voice betraying the nervousness that churned within you. "Excuse me, do you mind if I join you?"

The stranger looked up, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he offered you a friendly smile. "Not at all," he replied, gesturing to the empty space beside him.

Introductions are made, and you learn his name is Pablo. You chat about inconsequential things at first— the weather, the beauty of the park— but soon the conversation takes an interesting turn.

"So, what brings you to the park today?" Pablo asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts before deciding to share a glimpse of your quirky tradition with the stranger beside you. "Actually, I was going to study for a business exam I have coming up," you began, your voice tinged with a hint of amusement, "but I ended up here instead. You see, I have this odd tradition where I flip a coin to make decisions."

The stranger's eyes widened in surprise, a grin spreading across his face. "No way, you too?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. "That's incredible! I can't believe we have the same tradition."

You couldn't help but laugh at the sheer coincidence of it all, feeling a sense of connection growing stronger between you with each passing moment. "It seems like fate brought us together," you remarked, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

A playful glint danced in Pablo's eyes as he suggested, "Well, why don't we put our tradition to the test? Make a decision together?" "Sure, I'd love that," you replied, unable to hide the smile that tugged at your lips.

With a grin, Pablo retrieved a coin from his pocket, the sunlight catching its gleaming surface as he held it between his fingers. "Heads, we go for ice cream. Tails, we take a stroll by the lake," he proposed, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You watched with bated breath as Pablo flicked the coin into the air, its metallic clang echoing through the quiet park. Time seemed to stand still as it twirled and spun before finally landing in his palm, revealing its verdict.

"Heads!" Pablo exclaimed, a delighted smile spreading across his face. "Looks like we're getting ice cream."

Your heart soared with excitement as you rose from the bench, a sense of adventure coursing through your veins. Together, you set off towards the nearby ice cream parlor, laughter and lighthearted banter filling the air.

The bell above the door chimed cheerfully as you stepped inside, greeted by the tantalizing aroma of freshly made waffle cones and the colorful display of frozen delights. Pablo's eyes sparkled with delight as he scanned the menu, his excitement infectious.

"I can never resist a classic vanilla cone," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

You chuckled, feeling a sense of warmth spread through you at his endearing confession. "I'm a sucker for anything with chocolate." you confessed, feeling a twinge of excitement at the thought of indulging in your favorite flavor.

As you waited for your treats to be prepared, you and Pablo found a cozy corner to sit, the air filled with the hum of conversation and the tantalizing scent of freshly baked waffle cones.

With your ice cream in hand, you and Pablo savored each delicious bite, the sweetness of the frozen treat melting on your tongues. You couldn't help but smile as you watched Pablo's eyes light up with each lick of his cone, his expression one of pure bliss.

As you and Pablo enjoyed your ice cream, there was an undeniable spark between you, an electric energy that seemed to crackle in the air. With each laugh shared and every lingering glance exchanged, the connection between you deepened, igniting a flame that warmed your hearts.

As you continued to chat, the conversation took a more intimate turn, delving into deeper topics that revealed the layers of your personalities. Each revelation felt like a step closer to understanding each other on a profound level, and with every shared moment, the connection between you deepened, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and emotions. It might be weird but you felt like you've known him your whole life.

As the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, a gentle breeze swept through the park, stirring the leaves of the trees and sending a cascade of golden light dancing across the grass. In that moment of serene tranquility, Pablo's gaze met yours, his eyes soft with an unspoken question.

Without a word, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt the electric thrill of anticipation coursing through you, your senses heightened by the proximity of his presence.

With a tender smile, Pablo's hand brushed against yours, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Is it okay if I...?" he began, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours for permission.

Your heart raced in your chest as you nodded, a rush of warmth flooding your cheeks. "Yes," you breathed, your voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart.

And then, with a tenderness that took your breath away, Pablo closed the remaining distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was a moment filled with all the sweetness and innocence of a first kiss, a gentle exploration of the newfound feelings that bloomed between you.

As you melted into each other's embrace, lost in the magic of the moment, you knew with absolute certainty that this was just the beginning of a love story that would unfold in the most beautiful of ways. And as you lingered in each other's arms, basking in the warmth of newfound affection, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the chance encounter that had brought you together.

[sot0-n0-h1to]

pikmin 4 incorrect quotes ^-^

Dingo: If I say I love you, will you say it back? 

Shepard: Yes. 

Dingo: I love you. 

Shepard: It back. 

*Later* 

Bernard: Why is Dingo crying face-down on the floor?

Pom: What’s it like being tall? 

Pom: Is it nice? 

Pom: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? 

Yonny: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 4 chairs, 2 boxes, a small coffee table and 6 oddly placed stools to get what they want. 

Bernard: It was one time!

Dingo: Caffeine no longer keeps me awake while I work, so instead I have Yonny periodically send me texts saying ‘we need to talk.’ 

Dingo: It gives me the right amount of adrenaline and fear I need to keep going.

Shepard: *trying to get five seconds of sleep* 

Bernard, poking Shepard’s arm: Shepard Shepard. Shepard. Shepard. 

Shepard: WHAT? 

Bernard: …We’re out of Capri Suns—

Shepard: Hey, Yonny, where are you going? 

Yonny: Well, it depends. When I die, probably hell. 

Yonny: But right now I’m going to McDonald’s.

Dingo: Let’s write Bernard a friendly note, shall we? Dear... Incompetent... Dumbass…

Shepard: I personally don't think it's possible to come up with a crazier plan. 

Dingo: We could attack them with hummus. 

Shepard: I stand corrected. 

Dingo: Just keeping things in perspective.

Shepard: Alright, listen up you little shits. 

Shepard: Not you Pom. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

Yonny: *eating a cinnamon roll* 

Dingo: Cannibalism. 

Yonny: *confused chewing noises*

Collin: A person can really hear themselves think out here. 

Collin’s mind: Did you leave the stove on? The front door unlocked!? WILL YOU DIE ALONE!? 

Collin: Well, that was a mistake.

Bernard: No problemo! 

Bernard, internally: But it was all problemo.

Bernard: Yonny and I were crossing the street, and this man drove by and honked at us. 

Collin: What did you do? 

Bernard: They chased him to the next red light, and reached into his window, and- 

Yonny: *walking in* Who wants a steering wheel?

Dingo: I hate you. 

Yonny: Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.

Yonny, texting: Answer your phone 

Dingo, texting back: Wait a minute, I can’t find my phone 

Yonny: Understood 

Yonny, 5 minutes later: You’re a terrible person. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing me, Dingo.

Dingo: Wait a minute, how did this happen? We're smarter than this! 

Shepard: Apparently, we're not.

Dingo: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt? 

Yonny: 

Yonny: Why are you eating dirt? 

Dingo: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

Yonny: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. 

Yonny: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.

Collin: Well, needless to say. Uh-oh Spaghetti-os.

Yonny: I got us matching friendship bracelets, and you say I don't care about our relationship. 

Dingo: These are handcuffs. 

Yonny: Yeah, 'cause we're partners in crime!

Dingo: I am so cool. I am an absolute Chad. I am the epitome of coolness and awesomeness— 

Yonny: Hi. 

Dingo: *melts down in a flustered heap of softness*

Kidnapper: I have one of your friends. 

Pom: Which one? I have seven. 

Kidnapper: The loud, annoying, rowdy one who never shuts up. 

Pom: Which one? I have seven. 

Bernard, distantly: HEY!!!

Pom: I sort of did something and I need some advice, but I don't want a lot of judgment and criticism. 

Dingo: And you came to me?

Dingo: I don't dab. I stab.

Shepard: You really believe in Dingo? 

Bernard: Luckily, they believe in themself enough for the both of us.

Dingo: Sweet dog you got there. 

Police: Yes, this is our new drug sniffing dog. 

Dingo: Still training huh? 

Police: What do you mean? 

Dingo: 

Dingo: Never mind.

Shepard: Alright, what pizza toppings should we order? 

Dingo: Anchovies and pineapple. 

Pom: I like beets! 

Yonny: Have you guys ever had a cheese-less pizza? 

Shepard: I’m disowning all of you.

Dingo: You use emojis like a straight person. 

Yonny: That’s literally the worst thing anyone has ever said about me.

Dingo: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one.

Bernard, talking to Dingo: Well Dingo, whenever I’m about to do something, I think ‘would Yonny do that?’ and if they would, I do not do that thing. 

Dingo: … 

Yonny, from the distance: They’re not wrong though!

Dingo: Is stabbing someone immoral? 

Yonny: Not if they consent to it. 

Bernard: Depends on who you're stabbing. 

Collin: YES??!!?

Bernard: I’m so happy two of my favorite people are getting along now. 

Shepard: Uh, Dingo and Pom are not getting along. 

Bernard: They’re not trying to kill each other. 

Shepard: You may have a point.

Shepard: Yesterday, I overheard Bernard saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Yonny replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

Collin: Which one of you was going to tell me that tea tastes different if you put it in hot water?? 

Dingo: Y- you were putting it in cold water?? 

Shepard: Collin. Answer the question, Collin. 

Collin: Yeah??? I thought people just put it in hot water to speed up the tea-ification process. didn't realize there was an actual reason. 

Collin: Plus you think I have the patience to boil water? 

Dingo: You don't have the patience to microwave water for 3 minutes?? 

Shepard: Why are you putting it in the microwave to boil it? 

Dingo: Do you think I have the patience to boil water on the stove? 

Shepard: It takes less than a minute. 

Dingo: Is your stovetop powered by the fucking sun??? 

Shepard: How long does it take you to boil a cup of water on the stove? 

Dingo: Like seven minutes?? 

Bernard: Just stick the mug on top of the stove on medium heat and it boils in like 2 minutes... less than that if you use a saucepan! 

Shepard: Why are you putting the whole mug on the stove?? On medium heat?? Bernard? Your stove is enchanted! 

Collin: Every single person here is a fucking lunatic. 

Pom: Do none of you own a fucking kettle?!

Bernard: I'm having problems with a guy... 

Yonny: Like his dead body won't fit into your trunk kind of problems, or you like him kind of problems?

[feathersnflowers]

so I wanted to try writing something because idk it's fun and I decided to start a little fanfic on an au. Basically (I'm still working out some of it) Philip is Hunter's abusive Uncle that keeps him locked up in the old house then one day he finds a little girl (vee) out on her own so he decides to kidnap her so hunter can have a little friend (I mean he doesn't really care about hunter being happy he just hopes he'll be a little less clingy) then about two months later the authorities find out who kidnapped vee and arrest Philip. Also Sorry if there's anything in it that doesn't make sense or is incorrect I didn't really know how this kind of stuff would work and I didn't want to research.

Chapter 1

______________________

Hunter woke up to the sound of people arguing; which was strange, there was never anyone else in the house besides him, Uncle Philip, and Vee. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and looked over at Vee, peacefully sleeping. He was tempted to go downstairs and investigate, but he though it better to stay with Vee. Plus, his uncle would probably get mad if he did.

Since Vee wasn't awake and he couldn't go see what was happening, he decided to clean up the area a little. Uncle had let Vee and him make a pillow fort in their room the other night, meaning there were pillows, blankets, and toys strewn about all over the floor. He was almost done picking up when he heard footsteps, followed by knocking on the door.

"Yes?" he asked softly, holding on to a pink frog plushy.

The door creaked open and a tall woman with short, dirty blond hair, held up in a ponytail walked in. She was met by the ten-year-old boy looking up at her. The women crouched down to his level before speaking.

"Hey there buddy." she smiled "I'm here to help you. Have you seen a little girl by the name of Vee around here?"

Hunter tensed up a bit. "Yeah, she's sleeping right there." he informed her quietly, pointing to where the girl was sleeping in a pile of pillows.

"Thank you." she said getting up and moving over to the girl, picking her up gently. "Come, follow me." she instructed. Hunter looked around nervously before timidly walking close to the women, still hugging the plush tight.

They snuck quietly down the stairs to the dimly lit living room, the house seemingly empty.

The women led him outside. He squinted in the bright sunlight, trying to shield his eyes with his hand. When he adjusted he looked around, taking in the scene. There were a couple of cars, and people going in and out of the house while talking. They all looked so serious.

The women set Vee down on the ground, shaking her carefully to wake her up. Vee opened her eyes slightly and rubbed the sleep out, looking up at the women. "Hey there Vee, I'm here to get you back to your mama, alright?" she told the girl.

"Mama." Vee smiled, then sat up, looking around. " Wait, where's Hunter?" Vee asked "Is he ok?"

"Is this him?" The woman questioned, reaching behind herself, gingerly grabbing Hunter's arm, and pulling him over into Vee's vision. He had been watching all the grownups going in and out of the house.

Vee smiled "Yeah." she said.

Hunter looked around again

"Where's Uncle?" Hunter asked, looking up at the woman.

"Oh, well, he's going somewhere far away, and you won't be able to see him for a while, but you'll be ok I promise we'll find you a good home with loving parents." she said, puting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"What?" he asked, starting to shake a little. "D-did he die?" Hunter's voice cracked.

"No no no, he's not dead, he's just in jail" the woman reassured, seeing the boy's panicked face.

"Oh..." he said, looking down.

"Hey Bree, Camila said she's almost here, so get Vee ready-" said a voice from behind them. He paused before speaking again. "Who's that?" He asked, limply pointing to Hunter.

"Oh this is Hunter, I think he's Philip's nephew." She answered, rubbing the boys arm gently.

"So what do we do with him?"

"Well, we could bring him to an orphanage or foster care?"

"Actually, I should probably go tell Gary about the kid, this is his kinda stuff."

The man then walked away.

"Did you hear that, Vee, your mama is coming." Bree smiled, looking back at Vee. "Let's move closer to where she'll be coming from."

With that, she helped Vee stand up, putting her hand behind the girls back, and started walking towards the curb in front of the house. But Hunter didn't move. When Bree noticed, she looked over her shoulder.

"You too, Hunter. I'm not just going to leave you alone."

Hunter startled at that, then walked towards her and Vee, still standing close, but not touching.

After a couple minutes of standing there, a car pulled up and a short woman got out. She had curly brown hair, dark tan skin, and glasses.

"Vee, baby!" She cried, running over to Vee and hugging her tight.

"Mama!" Vee sobbed into the woman's shoulder.

"Oh my sweet baby, I'm so glad you're ok." The woman sighed with relief, pressing a few kisses into the girl's forehead.

The woman looked up at Bree with tears in her eyes, "Thank you so much." She smiled, holding the girl close in her arms

"Just doing my job." Bree answered. "I'm glad she's safe too."

The woman gave Vee one last kiss before standing up, still holding the girl. "Are you ready to go home, Mija?" She asked, looking at her daughter.

Vee opened her mouth to say yes, but remembered Hunter. "Almost, I just need to say goodbye to someone." She hopped out of the women's arms and walked up to Hunter, before hugging him. "Goodbye Hunter."

Hunter's eyes were wide and full of tears. "V-vee?" He choked, trying not to cry. "W-Where are you going?." he asked, knowing exactly where.

"Home." She said simply. "I'll miss you."

She was about to go, when Hunter wrapped his arms around her. "Please don't leave." He sobbed

"I'm sorry." She apologized, before freeing herself from his grasp. His knees started wobbling and he crumpled to the ground, shaking and sobbing, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Vee looked at him, then to her mom, not knowing what to do.

Camila looked over at the small boy with a soft expression, then looked over at Bree. "Does he have any family coming for him?" She asked with a gentle tone.

"No, he's Philip's nephew" Bree informed her.

Camila smiled "Then I'll take him with me." When she looked back to the boy he was looking up at her with disbelief. She smiled warmly at him and crouched down at his side.

"So, what do you say? Would you like to come home with Vee and I?" She asked, stretching her arm out to him.

His eyes filled with more tears, and he covered his face as he started crying again. Camila gently wrapped her arms around the boy and he snuggled in close, soon joined by Vee.

Bree smiled. "I think that'll be just fine."