#that said I don’t think it ever becomes okay not to tag spoilers

[lulu2992]

I’ve just found this interesting 10-year-old video I don’t remember ever seeing before in which Dan Hay, former “shepherd” (term they half-jokingly use in the interview) of the Far Cry series discusses the past but also the future of the franchise, a few months before the release of Far Cry 4. Mark Thompson, narrative director of the game, is also interviewed.

When he’s asked if he has “any interest in unifying the larger world and creating a larger meta-story between all the games” and if they’re all “in the same universe”, Dan Hay answers he’s “just gonna smile at that”, and after talking a bit about how invested the team is and how smart he thinks players are, concludes, “But your question is very intriguing, and it makes me smile.”

He then happily explains Far Cry is “near and dear to [his] heart” (he even has it tattooed on him because he lost a bet) and that he “[plans] on working on it for a long time” because he “can’t think of anything else”.

That was in 2014.

In June 2021, it was officially explained that Far Cry games were only loosely connected and each had their own world. In November 2021, Dan Hay left Ubisoft.

I don’t know what happened (or even if anything happened at all) and don’t blame the Far Cry 6 team for their decision to create a new timeline to tell their story (they didn’t really have a choice after the ending of Far Cry 5), but I admit I’m a bit sad we never got to see the full extent of that “meta-story” they clearly had in mind 10 years ago...

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

there’s been lots of requests and comments so here it is PART 3!!! (SHE’S HERE first anon, hope you survived this long second anon and it was not a dream third anon, I’m posting/making it now fourth and fifth anon)

some of you were going feral for part 2 so I hope this lives up the expectation 😭😭 if not I’m severely sorry

title: the dancer and the angel part 3

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: grayson has just admitted to kissing lyra kane, the girl you’d been worried about, the girl that was stunning, the girl he said didn’t matter… he chose her over you so now what??

parts: part 1 part 2

warnings: swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: okay so I hate switching POVs but I felt it was necessary here and I know the start is the same as the part 2 but in Gray’s POV but trust me there is lot more

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31

GRAYSON’S POV

Guilt has chewed me up and spat me out the whole walk back to our shared room. There’s a pulsating lump in my throat that aches relentlessly, reminding me of what I’ve done. I am a terrible person. I never deserved her and now I’ve done the worst thing I could’ve possibly done, that anyone on this whole planet could’ve ever done. And she will never forgive me for it. I wish there was a way to turn back time and alter certain events. As soon as the time machine is invented, no doubt by my very own brother Xander, I’m coming back to moments before now to stop my idiot brain from-

I can’t even think it. Maybe it’s because it makes it more real. It’s like the last few moments of my life have been erased from my brain, it’s a blank canvas and I have no paints. I know what I did but I can’t remember exact details. Still, I can taste her on my lips, an over sweet taste that was almost too sickly has now morphed into something bitter. Her perfume lingers on my clothes and adds to my ever growing headache. I don’t want to smell her, I don’t want the reminder of the awful human I have become. The monster that now inhabits my body, lives in my skin, breathes my air and poisons the people I love. The ones I truly love.

Y/n. At one point she was the only reason I was still existing, still carrying on. She somehow managed to give me the fight to keep carrying on. I got up most days because I knew I would get to see her face. And now I’m going to throw everything away, our whole relationship. Everything we’ve been through or planned to go through together. It will reduced to nothing in a few minutes.

I’m outside the door, my feet have carried me here through muscle memory. I must go in, I must face her I’m aware but I’m afraid. I’ve never felt so pathetic. I wonder if she is still asleep. Though, I can’t work out whether I’d rather she be awake or asleep. I don’t think I could bear to look at her angelic feature either way. Those wide eyes, round lips, heavenly- I can’t bear it, I’m going to lose her, all of her.

I fiddle around with the key, hoping the door will just never unlock so I don’t have to face this. The mechanism clicks, mocking me. I step in silently and face the door to lock back up again. I don’t understand why, I know I’ll be kicked out in a matter of seconds, what good will a locked door be? And yet I’m still facing the door, fumbling with the key, my back towards her. Though I can hear her getting out of bed. She’s awake. My body’s immediate response is to go into a state of paralysis. I can’t move as the guilt ridden cement hardens over my body, creating an outer shell of the cruel creature I’ve become. Her body is behind mine. I can feel her bright presence radiating her usual tentative nature.

“Are you okay?” I hear her whisper as she touches my arm so gently it stings.

It stings so sharply because I know what I’ve done. The shameful crime I’ve committed. I jerk away suddenly.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, deep concern in her tone.

It kills me. It’s a poisoned dagger wedged deep within my heart, hitting every vital artery. Her voice is so soft, so melodic. She cares so much, too much and I’m about to destroy it all. And as much as I could not say a word I couldn’t live a lie, the guilt would eat me alive. How could I look her in the eye and tell her she’d always been the only one when I know she hadn’t? She’d already noticed earlier today my distant mood. She had always been observant, vigilant about those things concerning me and I’d always been grateful. I wouldn’t have that anymore. Lyra had been on my mind earlier and I couldn’t tell her. Now she would realise.

“No,” I reply.

My voice is unfamiliar to myself, it’s sharp and blunt. It sounds horribly harsh. I could feel it hurt her, the air ripples with a touch of dimness when I hurt her. Even with my back to her it’s obvious to me. I know her so well, too well and from this day on we might drift to perfect strangers. That thought hurts me more than anything.

“Where have you been?” she says. Her voice so sweet, so innocent, cruelly naïve.

I don’t want to break her, I don’t want to do it. It would be like smashing a glass ballerina. Something so beautiful, something so delicate should be preserved not purposely broken. I force my eyes to meet hers. I immediately regret it. The soft mellow colour all melts into one, clawing at my heartstrings and ripping the organ to shreds. She’s so beautiful. How had I ever looked at any other? How had I let myself?

Suddenly I’m drowning in guilt. I don’t know how, it just comes over me suddenly. Like a tidal wave I had my back to. I’ve been swept under by an endless ocean of shame. My lungs swollen full of my own black sin. I don’t know how but I manage to choke out two shaky words.

“I’m sorry.”

My voice cracks. My voice never cracks. She knows that. I’m sturdy, I’m strong, I’m the rock that never breaks and here I am. Here I am crumbling into dust. She’s too smart to miss the signs, she’s too clever not to immediately know something so horribly wrong, her mind is too sharp not to have worked half of it out. She’d already been suspicious of Lyra. She’d already seen what might happen between us even before I did, before it did actually happen.

“Gray?” she asks, my name sounding too sweet on her tongue. The next time she says it will taste bitter, I’m sure of it. She barely whispers the word but I hear her, it rings in my mind. It forever will.

I’m full of pure regret and guilt, it wracks my soul, shaking me relentlessly back and forth until I’m dizzy with it. Remorse’s doors suddenly burst wide open, ready for my grand entrance. My hopes and dreams snicker and smirk smugly as I walk down the runway, my head hanging in embarrassment.

I need to tell her. My heart races in my chest and there’s a lump stuck in my throat, so large it’s started to block my airways. I don’t know how to get the words out, I don’t know how to talk. I feel like I’m suffering some sort of aneurysm. She looks at me, her eyebrows pinched in and eyes narrowed and then I see it. Her eyebrows part and slowly sink. She knows already.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, her voice of an angel shaking.

I close my eyes, trying to suppress the tears. I haven’t cried in years I’ve forgotten this feeling, this heavy weighted agony that ripples through me causing water to infiltrate my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek and still my shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, an uninvited raw desperation ripping through my voice, “I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” she grits through her teeth sharply, her eyes glitter so beautifully fierce and fiery, like she wants to kill.

But I know she’s trying to steady her rising sadness by covering up with her fury. I can see through her, like she can see through me. I freeze and the pause elongates. The aching silence is deadly, it’s fatal. I wish she didn’t have to make me say it.

“I kissed her,” I murmur, the words making me feel sick as I say them.

“Who?” she asks, he tone low and ferocious, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

I’m twisting a knife into her heart and I know it. But she wants me to cut deeper. She’s a woman of principle, I’ve already hurt her, I might as well do the job properly in her eyes. And I can’t deny her this. Not I’ve stripped her of her dignity, her trust, her love, her everything.

“I kissed Lyra,” I whisper, suddenly aware of the dampness on my cheeks.

A sour taste fills my mouth. The words send lightning sparks across my jaw, sending ribbons of agony down the sides of my face. The truth hurts. Literally. Tears are rolling the side of my face, but I don’t bring my hand to wipe them and nor do I stop them. I’ve never felt more broken.

But she doesn’t care, there is not pity in her eyes. Good. I don’t want he to pity me. She should hate me. She should want me to miserable and hope for me to have a lifetime of the torture I’ve just forced her to endure.

“Get out,” she murmurs, the anger bringing out her natural stunning features. A flicker of boldness in her eyes, the striking angles of her eyebrows, her strong thick lashes and her full lips.

“I’m sorry.” they’re the only words I remember how to say, through my internal fit of torment.

I expect her to hit me around the face, a good strong punch I know she can make or a sharp smack that’ll leave a red hand mark pressed against my cheek. I imagine she might scream at me and ask me all the questions I wish I had answers to. But she does none of that. She only looks at me darkly and utters two last words.

“Leave Grayson.”

I can hear the tears she’s trying to hold back, through the numb façade. I know her better than she’ll ever realise. But it’s not fair for me to stay, not after this. She’s only asking one thing of me when she should be doing so much more. So I do. I turn my back on her again. And I leave.

***

Tears pummel down my cheeks like never before. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I don’t think I’ve ever cried like this. I’m blinded by them as I stumble sideways. I don’t know where I’m going. I stand on the edge of the cliff and sink to my knees, letting out a loud guttural scream. I’m there until my throat is so raw I can’t feel it. I bite my lip so hard it draws blood. And then I’m up again and running, following a path my footsteps are dragging me towards. I can’t think straight, I’m dizzy with pain. Before I know it I’m outside the safe house on the island. My hands tremor on the handle and I swing open the door, falling to the floor for my sobs to take me over. My chest aches and burns and tightens. That’s when I realise I can’t breathe properly. I fumble around for my phone, a tear splashing into the illuminated screen. With uncontrollably shaking hands, I typed no words. Just three numbers.

911

***

The wait feels like years, maybe even decades. Each second taunts me, with a mocking tick. I’d crumbled into the corner of the room at some point and stayed there, curled up and choking on my own sorry sobs. What had I done? What had I done? What had I done?

The question circles around my head like the nostalgia of a distorted tune of a merry go round. I’ve never made such a big mistake and my life and deep down there’s a sinking sensation that is telling me I’m not going to be able to make this better. I sob, loud harsh sobs that hurt my lungs and knock the air out of my stomach. My whole being shakes with every strangled noise that escapes my lips. Grieving. I’m grieving over something I chose to throw away. It’s cruelly ironic. But I think part of me is also grieving the good man I once thought myself to be, that she made me believe I could be.

I turned my back on the one and only person in this world who just cared about me, took me for who I am and believed I could do anything. She only wanted the best, she only wanted happiness and she deserved so much more and here I am, stabbing her in the back and dancing in her blood like a madman. She was my everything and I managed to mess it up, just like everything else in my life. I can’t have normal relationships, I can’t do something without messing it up. I’m one big screw up the opposite of how the old man raised me to be. He’s looking down on me now and I can feel his disappointment, like an infection coursing through my bloodstream. I failed him, I failed my brothers, I’ve failed her, I’ve failed myself.

She thought I was better, she believed I could be more than his expectation. And I was stupid enough to believe it, encourage it and let her belive the lie too. We’re all idiots.

I can recite her favourite song, her favourite flower, her favourite food and favourite colour. I can tell you all about her favourite novels and how she orders her books on an endless bookshelf. I know that she tells people her favourite film is ‘it’s a wonderful life’ but it’s actually secretly ‘tangled’. I know she prefers to stay inside and cuddle under blankets rather than have a night out. I know she’d rather reason a thousand books than watch a thousand movies. I know she wanted a library in her dream house and two, maybe three children with her husband and I know she’d sometimes debate about getting a cat as well. I know how she loves brownie batter more than the actual brownies and can’t sleep with any lights on. I know she still uses the bunny rhyme to tie her shoelaces and how she fiddles with her collarbone when she’s nervous. I know exactly what diamond she wanted in her engagement ring and her favourite country. I know what people she despises and I know what people she adores. I know every inch of her face, every hair on her head, every sparkle in her eyes and every cell on her skin.

I know her.

I know her, but that can’t help me now. Pain ripples across the left side of my chest and my hand clamps over it as I grit my teeth to try and bear it. I hear the door creek open and can’t tell whether it comforts me or not.

“Grayson pookie!” Xander calls out, “we’re here.”

His cheerful voice doesn’t provide me with the cushion to this pain I thought it might.

“And we have some in incredibly strong whisky,” Jameson adds, I can here the mischievous grin in his voice, it’s been the same all of his life.

“My nose hairs are officially burnt off,” Xander agrees.

I can’t speak. I try to call out for them but the words die in my swollen throat.

“Where are you Gray?” Nash calls out, he sounds a little more worried than the other two but is concealing it well.

“Here,” my voice is hoarse and laboured, even I can’t recognise it.

The mood immediately shifts, you can feel it. The air becomes tainted with concern as their footsteps approach my cowering figure. The case of whiskey is dropped as there is an audible thunk as it hits the floor. I can feel their bodies enveloping around mine creating something of a circle of safety. I look up to worried face and shiny eyes.

“Help me,” I gasp for air, greedily trying to gulp down the oxygen that I feel so deprived of, “please.”

“We’re here to help you Gray,” Nash murmurs softly. His voice had always been something comforting, especially when I was younger. I wonder if he will be so kind when I tell him what I’ve done. He’s going to hate me, there’s nothing he despises more than a man who can’t respect a woman.

I shake my head and choke out another struggling sob, instead of the words I don’t know how to say. Jameson’s eyes flit between mine and Nash’s, the concern rippling across his features. He’s never looked this concerned for me in his life. I think to all the times as children I’d helped him settle after a nightmare and wiped his tears that he hated falling when the old man had humiliated him. Oh how the tables had turned. Now it was my little brother wiping my tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his touch so gentle it shocks me.

“I can’t-“ I barely get out, wrapping my hands around my neck.

“Gray…” he trails off, unmasked emotion hitting his face like a train.

“I can’t breathe,” I wheeze as the invisible blanket that was set out to suffocate me tightens over my nose and mouth.

“Hey, Gray, look at me,” Nash says, his voice smooth and reassuring, “in and out okay, in and out.”

“I can’t,” I pant, my limbs shaking embarrassingly uncontrollably.

Xander takes both of my hands into his and squeezes them until they still, “yes you can, follow Nash’s instructions okay?”

“Slowly, do it with me,” Nash nods, “in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

I do. In and out, a rhythmic pattern. Each time Nash reminds me how to breathe. There’s an aura of calmness about his voice that lulls my panic into a narcoleptic sleep. Once my breathing is halfway regulated I look at him, dead in the eye, with shaking sorrowful lips.

“I fucked up,” I sob, “I fucked up and I don’t know what to do.”

They all share a look, this is the worst state they’ve seen me and we all know it. I begin to pathetically sob uncontrollably once again, the feelings building up in my chest and tearing me apart from the inside out. It’s like a rabid pack of wolves had been set loose to feed on my internal organs. I don’t know how to stop the ocean of tears, I don’t know how to shut my mind off, I don’t know how to help myself. Reel myself in from this abominable mess I’ve become. I’m hyperventilating, my chest throbbing up and down unevenly. Nash nods towards Jameson, a short, soft, sharp nod of approval.

“Hey! Calm down!” Jameson snaps, giving me a hard slap around the face, “snap out of this!”

The shock shuts me up and the sting stops my tears. I’m back to reality instead of a wallowing mess. Nash must’ve been approving the slap I realise in the sudden cleared head I’d obtained

“Sorry,” Jameson mumbles at me, looking a little guilty.

I massage my jaw, “no I think I needed that.”

He grimaces and then softens his tone, “what happened Gray?”

I tense, growing very still, “I can’t say it out loud, I can’t, I’m awful, I’m horrible-“

“What happened?” Nash drawls.

I choke out yet another unnatural sound. Seems the slap didn’t snap me hard enough into reality. I exhale slowly. I have to say it, now or never.

“I kissed Lyra.”

The words hurt even more this time, that they did when I’d admitted it to y/n. Neither one of my brothers can mask their honest reaction.

“Oh fuck,” Jameson blurts out, “you cheated?”

Anger. He’s fuming with me. I can see the rage trailing through his eyes and blossoming into his expression.

“I didn’t mean to,” I reply, feeling like a small child.

Jameson’s eyes widen and fury flashes across his face, “how can you not mean-“

Nash shoots him a look and his mouth glues shut. Then he turns to me and I can’t quite read him yet. I gulp.

“No one does that kind of thing for no reason,” he says sternly, “I never thought you’d be the one of the four of us to ever do that, seems I was mistaken little brother.”

Disappointment. He’s disappointed. A horrible sinking feeling settles in my stomach. Nash is disappointed in me. It’s one of the worst feelings imaginable. There had only been few times in my life when he had been and I remember the feeling all too well. Shame has me in a chokehold an it’s succeeding in strangling me. I can‘t bring myself to meet his eyes, I don’t want to see that look I can feel is on his face, that look of pure disapproval.

“How did she find out?” Xander asks quietly.

Shock. He hadn’t said anything until now, but his lips had been slightly parted and he’d paled a little. He never thought I’d do this to anyone, he’s yet another person I’ve let down.

“I told her,” I murmur, “the guilt was consuming me.”

“As it should,” Jameson snaps, twitching with a fiery ferocity.

“Jamie,” Nash says, trying to keep some kind of diplomacy.

“No,” he growls, “you don’t do that to a girl, your girl, you can’t do that!”

“Don’t take the moral highground now,” I spit.

“When you’ve cheated on your girlfirend? Yeah I think I will,” he replies, the bitterness rolling off of his tongue like a deadly poison. He doesn’t know I’ve already poisoned myself with my own actions, his words can’t hurt me.

“I didn’t mean to,” I falter.

“Bullshit,” he grits through his teeth, in two definitive and threatening symbols.

“Careful Jamie,” Nash warns.

“All this is your fault anyway,” I continue, ignoring the warning.

“So it’s my fault, you kissed another girl, yeah, okay Gray,” he nods his head with a sarcastic smile.

“It is!” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air, “if you hadn’t locked me in a room with her-“

“So it’s my fault you couldn’t keep up dick under control,” he quips, interrupting me.

“You could’ve locked me with my one of my sisters but of course you just had choose the only girl who isn’t related to me,” I seethe.

“Odette isnt related to you,” Xander pipes up. I’d forgotten he was there, that anyone besides me and Jameson were there.

“Odette is old enough to be my grandmother,” I scowl at him, immediately feeling bad as the words leave my lips, but don’t dwell on it as I turn back to Jameson, “why did you make me a player in your sick excuse of a game?”

“You can’t use the game as an excuse,” he laughs darkly.

“I will,” I reply sharply, “this is your fault and Avery’s fault too.”

“Avery? Don’t make me laugh,” he rolls his eyes.

“The game never should’ve been created by her,” I yell, “that’s why I’m in this mess!”

“No, you’re in this mess because of you,” he shouts back, “but don’t you dare bring Avery in to this it’s not her fault.”

I feel like I’m one of those circus acts, the ones that lay on a spinning board and get knives hurled at them. Only in my case the knives are the truth and they actually hit me.

“Why did you make me a player?” I ask quieter now, my voice hoarse, “why?”

“I didn’t know making you a player would result in this,” he says.

“It was so irreverent,” I snap becoming angrier by the second, a sudden burst of red overriding any rational sense in my head, “I never needed to play.”

“You can’t pin this on me Gray, if it didn’t happen with Lyra, who knows who else it would’ve happened with,” he hisses.

“So you think I’m just like this? You think this is me?” I ask him, prodding the hollow space where my heart used to be.

“I didn’t before….” he trails off, sighing, “but now I don’t know what the fucking think of you.”

“Jamie,” Nash repeats again, in the same warning tone as before. We both ignore him.

“Just because you and Avery are all peaches and roses-“

“Leave Avery out of your anger issues,” he roars defensively.

“No,” I counter, raising an eyebrow, mirroring his usual argument demeanour, “you think you’re so perfect now you’ve got your dream girl and the two of you are so much better off than the rest of us, because your love is undeniable or whatever bullshit people feed you about it-“

Jameson’s features twitch for a split second. He’s hurt, but won’t show it. He’ll refuse but I know that it hit a nerve that won’t heal for a long time. I stop mid-sentence.

“I am far from perfect, I think we both know that,” he says, in a low voice, “look you’re hurting, I get it, but I’m not going to mollycoddle you and tell you it’s okay when it’s not. I’m not going to stand here and lie to your face because as your brother that would be the worst possible thing for me to do to you.”

“My brother would try and understand what it’s like from my side,” I say, desperation clawing at my voice.

“You’re looking for a fight Grayson and it’s not going to end well, not with me,” he warns, shaking his head.

“Maybe I do want a fight, but you know you do too,” I growl rolling up my sleeves, “so fine, I’ll give you a fight Jamie.”

“I don’t want a fight, I want some justice for y/n,” he states simply, “she did nothing to deserve that Gray, she’s been so good to you, the sweetest soul on this earth and she’s helped you through a lot of shit and this is how you’re repaying her?”

“Jameson,” Nash says.

He ignores him for the third time and I can see his calm facade beginning to drop, “you think because you called a 911 and you’re here crying that I should feel sorry for you?”

“I thought you were going to be here for me,” I reply numbly, my tone dead, “clearly I’m mistaken.”

“I can’t be there for someone with no morals,” he replies, “you cheated and you’re the one who’s upset about it, how do you think she feels?”

“You think I don’t know her?” I fire back, my throat burning, “you think I don’t know exactly what she’s doing right now? I hate myself, I hate myself for doing what I did!”

“Good you should!” he screams back.

Before I know it I feel myself charges towards him, ready to throw a good punch but Nash and Xander launch onto me to quickly and managing to hold me back. Nash’s grip is so tight I don’t dare try and budge.

“Out. Now.” Nash says sharply to Jameson, “go and cool off.”

His tone sends a shiver down my spine that I won’t admit to. Jameson opens his mouth to argue.

“Jameson.”

He skulks away, with a sullen face. We all wait frozen until the door has been slammed shut. Nash lets my arm go, dropping it harshly and Xander follows suit.

“And you’re no better,” he turns to me, placing his cowboy hat on a nearby surface, “I’m only sending him away because you can’t be left alone in this mess and so the two of you don’t rip each other to pieces.”

Silence stills the room. His voice echoes but makes no sound all at the same time.

“Take a second, take a breath and we’re going to talk this through like adults,” he says, “if you want to carry on being a child then leave. Calm down, you’re not a toddler having a tantrum, you’re a grown man, act like it.”

Nash has a way of snapping me back to reality. I nod shakily.

“Talk.”

I begin, “I don’t even know why I kissed her, I didn’t mean to it just-“

“Happened?” he guesses, “no little brother, that doesn’t just happen.”

“The I don’t know Nash,” I say, tipping my head back and resting it on the wall behind me.

I hadn’t meant for it to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. It just did. She was there, just stood there. Her hands looped naturally around the back of my neck, warm and gentle, “someone sent me that ticket Grayson. I thought it was Avery but if it wasn’t…”

She trails off, her voice small and tentative. Her golden eyes filled with the utmost worry. I wanted her to know she’d be okay, that she’d have someone to keep her safe. Her arms get more comfortable around my neck. She’d felt it too, the electrifying spark between us. It was exhilarating but something about it was off, synthetic.

“Then who the hell was it?” I questioned, my hands magnetised to her cheek all of a sudden.

Lyra didn’t pull away and neither did I. I lower my head and she raised onto her toes and titled hers back a little. She was graceful, like a dancer. My lips brushed over hers. They were sweet like honey. For the first few moments it was bliss and the realisation hit, like a stone to my stomach. I jerked backwards suddenly, shaking my head.

“I can’t do this,” I said, my fingers trying to wipe her taste off of my lips, “I don’t- this isn’t-“

I was tongue-tied, not able to explain to her how wrong it was. The words wouldn’t work the way I wanted them to.

“Gray?” Lyra murmurs, a tender voice. Her amber eyes are widened and slightly confused.

“No,” I yell. She flinches and another wave of horribly strong emotion rushes over me, drowning me. “No I’m in love with someone else. I don’t know what that was. I can’t-“

I stumbled backward a few steps and the turned around and ran. Like the coward that I am.

“It did just happen,” I murmur, lifting my head from the wall to look my older brother in eye, “I swear to god, I didn’t intend for it to happen, I didn’t even know I had feelings for her.”

I can see he disagrees still and isn’t convinced. I don’t know how to prove it to him.

“Let’s establish one thing here, who do you like?” Xander asks me.

“I like Lyra,” I say slowly, “but I love y/n.”

Nash shakes his head, “if you loved her you wouldn’t have done that.”

“I made a mistake,” I press on.

“And you will pay for it and regret it for the rest of your life,” he shrugs, “it’s not what you wanted to hear but it’s the truth. Listen, I love Libby and loving someone means so many things. One of those things is that I don’t even look at other women, to me they don’t even really exist. Libby is my world and no one else even comes into the equation, so the fact is someone else came into the equation for you, meaning the love wasn’t there.”

“But it was, I felt it,” I say, my voice breaking as I press my chest.

“What do you feel for Lyra?” he asks plainly.

“I don’t know, she’s intriguing and smart and beautiful,” I murmur, “and I like her, but I don’t know if I have romantic feelings for her.”

“Then why did you kiss her?”

“Comfort? Lust? Greed? Selfishness? I don’t know it just happened,” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Stop using that phrase as a get out clause,” Nash shakes his head, “you have to admit to yourself more than anyone that this didn’t just happen.”

“I leaned in and I put my lips of hers, and I didn’t stop it, it didn’t feel wrong straight away,” I admit out loud finally.

“It didn’t?” Xander says, looking wounded.

“No, it didn’t feel wrong until I realised what I’d done,” I say, looking down, suddenly finding my shoelaces to be the most interesting thing in the world.

No one replies for a long while. That’s when I realise how exhausted I truly am and how much I crave sleep.

“I vouched for you,” Xander says quietly, “I told her that you’d never do that, that you weren’t that guy.”

“I’m not,” I say, in denial at first. I take a moment to analyse his sentence and then come to a sickening realisation, “oh my god I am…”

“She was already anxious about where your loyalties were Gray,” he winces.

“I proved her right, I proved every worry she had right, I just proved to her that she shouldn’t have trusted me,” I spiral, hating that I hadn’t seen it sooner.

Xander looks to Nash for support for a reply.

“Yeah,” Nash sighs, “you did.”

“I need to fix this, there has to be a way-“

“Grayson,” the acuteness of his voice cuts through my sentence like a machete.

I freeze and clamp my mouth firmly shut.

“This isn’t a broken vase, you can’t glue it back together or buy a new one,” he tells me softly.

He was referring to a time where Jameson and I had been seven and eights years old. We’d been brawling of course, Hawthorne style and accidentally smashed a vase. Usually it wouldn’t matter, there were vases all over Hawthorne House and they were smashed frequently. But this wasn’t just any vase. It was nan’s priceless vase that had belonged to her daughter, our grandmother, Alice. We were never allowed within a five mile radius of it, but like the rebellious children we were, we didn’t listen. Through our fight we’d smashed the whole thing, it was truly destroyed. The two of us stayed up for nights on need gluing together the pieces only to realise it was never going to look like the original again. So we’d hunted to buy another, problem was, this vase was one of a kind. It turned out after four weeks or trying to ship a similar one in that nan had known the whole time. She didn’t speak to either of us for a good few months.

“This is real life, she is a real person and you hurt her,” he explains, “fixing this isn’t an option. There isn’t a way to fix it, there are no pieces to our back together, okay?”

I’m silent but it’s the loudest voice in the room. My face pinches together in agony. For the first time, a little of the disappointment fades and my brother’s face softens. He wraps a strong arm around me and I flop into him like a lifeless bag of nothingness. I bury my head into his shoulder and try to cry but there seems to be no tears left. He understands and holds me for a moment. Suddenly I’m six years old again and crying in Nash’s in my arms over Jameson hiding my favourite teddy bear at the time, then I’m eleven in his arms with pneumonia after being stupid enough to get caught in the rapids un the dead of winter wanting a good photograph of a rare fish, then I’m seventeen, crying over a redheaded girl who I thought I’d managed to murder. And now here I am, at twenty-two years old in his grasp once again, having made the greatest mistake of my life.

Suddenly I feel another set of arms wrap around the both of us.

“Group hug!” a familiar voice sings.

Leave it to Xander to make me crack a half smile in the darkest moments I’ve ever experienced. After a while I pull away and sigh.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” I ask, pulling away.

“Honestly?” Xander asks.

I nod

“No,” he says. I wish I could see that little glimmer of a lie in his eyes, but I can’t. And it kills me.

“Think about it like this,” he sighs, “would you forgive Eve for what she did?”

“This is not the same thing,” I reply coldly.

“Eve cheated your trust, she betrayed you,” he explains gently, “that’s exactly how she feels.”

Dread fills my every pore as I murmur lifelessly, “I’m as bad as Eve.”

“No wait,” he says, looking guilty and panicked all at the same time, “that’s not what I meant!”

“I know,” I reassure him so some of his guilt subsides, “but it’s true and now I’ve just realised.”

“Look Gray, you aren’t Eve. You’re never going to be Eve, but think of how you felt then. That’s how y/n feels,” Nash soothes, “she’s not going to just forgive you, that’s not how it works.”

“You just broke her heart Gray,” Xander adds, careful to keep his tone as light as a feather, “for a girl you just met.”

“Why am I horrible person? Why do I always find a way to mess to something good?” I groan, smacking my head on the wall behind me. There’s an audible thump as pain spreads through the back of my skull. I wonder if I can concuss myself to forget all of this, but I don’t attempt the idea.

“You don’t-“

“No I do,” I say firmly, cutting him off, “I’m not meant for love, to love or to be loved, I’m not built for it. I’m not a good enough person for it. I’m never going to find my Libby or my Max or my Avery.“

“Grayson-“ Nash begins.

“Emily knew it and now so does y/n,” I snap.

My brothers still at her name, not moving a muscle. I never bring up Emily.

“Listen to me,” Nash says sharply, getting my attention, “you are meant to be loved. You are meant to love. I love you, Xander loves you, Jameson loves you and y/n loved you too…”

The change of tense makes my soul ache.

“…but this time around, you made a mistake, a costly mistake. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love.”

I nod numbly, robotically.

“What can I do to make it up to her?” I ask, my voice beginning to tremble, “to show her I’m sorry? Something there has to be something.”

Nash gives me a grim look and Xander’s face remains blank, they’re the only answers I need. My head sinks into my hands. The door reopens and I look back up. Jameson has returned.

He meets my eyes, “Avery’s with her.”

Blood surges through my heart and I can almost smile. He checked on her. For me.

“Is she okay?” I ask quickly.

Jameson looks at me and for a split second I almost see the ghost concern is his eyes. He shakes his head softly, “no, but she will be,” he replies, it’s an attempt to comfort me and I am grateful.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“I’m not apologising for what I said, because I still stand by it and you won’t change my mind,” Jameson says, “but I am sorry for being so angry about it.”

“You were right,” I whisper, “you were right about me. I never deserved her, so was nothing but an angel to me and I just turned around and threw it all away. I abused the luxury I had, I stabbed her in the back and then gifted another with the knife, I’m a horrible person.”

“What you did was wrong, but that’s doesn’t make you a horrible person,” he sighs, “you need time Gray, this is going to take a lot of healing. On both sides.”

“I don’t deserve to heal, I deserve to be in pain,” I murmur, the dullness in my tone echos around the empty walls.

“Oh no, we’re not going back to emo Grayson,” Xander says quickly, shaking his head.

“I agree with Xander on this one,” Nash nods, readjusting his cowboy hat.

“I don’t want to hear you blasting my chemical romance at three a.m and then denying it later again, you came out of that phase we’re not going back there,” Jameson tells me.

I bark out a laugh that thaws my icy chest. I then bite the inside of my cheek.

“I can’t fix this, can I?” I say, looking at the ground,

Nash shakes his head softly.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be fixed,” Xander says.

“You’ll get through this Gray,” Jamie agrees, “I know it.”

The room grows still.

“Can we drink that whiskey now?” I ask, to cut through the silence. I feel like getting drunk, I feel like I need some relief.

“Big brother,” Xander nods at Nash handing him the bottle.

“Little brother,” he tips his cowboy hat in reply before taking the bottle into his hands and cracking it open.

“Let me pour these things properly,” Nash grins, “Jamie, come help.”

“Wait me too!” Xander jumps up,

“Stay with Gray,” he shakes his head.

“I don’t need to be babysat,” I grumble, annoyance written all over my face.

“I want to watch them pour whiskey properly,” Xander explains, “so I can impress Max.”

My eyebrows fly to my forehead, “Max drinks?”

“No I want to impress her though,” he grins.

‘You’re an odd human,” I almost laugh, tilting my head to the side.

“Why ta very much!” he says, almost skipping away.

Once I know they’re all gone, I lean back on the wall, my heart feeling a tiny bit less heavy. The pain isn’t gone. I think I’ve just gone numb. I feel hollow, empty, nothingness. Guilt is still gnawing at my insides but slower. A satifying clink against the fragile rim of the glass takes me out of my own head for a split second. There are hushed voices from the kitchen, I notice. I walk over to the door that lay ajar, I lean in to listen.

“We need to tell him,” it sounds like Jameson.

“Not now,” the accent indicates Nash.

“Then when?” Xander’s voice asks, “how long can we prolong it.”

“I can hear you,” I tell them, raising my voice a little.

They turn to face me, awkwardly remaining silent. The expressions on their faces don’t offer me comfort.

“Whatever it is, spit it out,�� I say, “it’s not like tonight could get any worse.”

They share a look. Apparently it can. I feel sick to my stomach.

I can barely breathe, “who died?”

“No one has died,” Xander says quickly, “yet.”

“What?” I say, my tone deadly,

Nash glares at him, then turns back to me. There’s sorrow laced delicately, deep within his hazel irises.

“Gray,” he says gently, “Gray we hate to do this but…”

“What? What is it?” I ask urgently.

“Gigi’s missing.”

The words shock me to my core. I feel my throat begin the close up as panic returns with a smirk and triumphant greeting. My whole world has collapsed in less than 24 hours.

***

YOUR POV

I don’t hate him. Call me naive or call me stupid. But I don’t. I don’t think I ever could. The kind of love I have for him is unconditional, irrevocable. Time can’t heal a wound this deep and although it is still fresh now, I can tell. But if he were to say sorry I think I would forgive him every time. And if he asked me back I’d fall into his arms into an instant. And I hate myself for it, it’s stupid and it’s a little cruel. How easily I would take him back after what he did. I know I shouldn’t but something inside of me is drawn to him. Like an invisible magnet has been planted in our hearts. I wish I didn’t love so hard, fall so deeply, maybe I wouldn’t get hurt so badly. But it’s in my nature, it’s who I am. I wonder if he knows how much pain I’m in, the rippling agony that rolls across my chest relentlessly with no hint as to when it will cease. I’m tired of being the second choice but unfortunately I wouldn’t mind being his. And I know it’s completely stupid of me to think that way, completely wrong but love makes you do stupid things so they say. I sit on the beach, by the sea in a state of numbness. Silent tears roll down my tears as the waves lap my feet. Deja vu washes over me and the memories of Grayson and I the night of the game flash through my mind.

I grip his hand and run with him as he guides me the just beyond the shore. He sits down swiftly on the sand and pulls me down to sit between his legs. I lean my back onto his chest and let him nuzzle his face into my collarbone.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing my neck, “only you.”

Only me, huh? Only me…

The waves crash against the rocks, hurtling a salty spray towards me. I hear footsteps and turn around. Avery stands there, a mournful expression over her delicate face. She knows. I stumble towards her and collapse into her arms in a fit of uncontrollable sobs now and she holds me. Her touch is gentle and warm but it’s nothing compared to his. I realise he might never hold me in his arms again and I cry even harder.

***

I don’t hold Lyra accountable. She is not to blame. Some girls in my position might dream about different ways to brutally murder her but I can only ask what comfort would it bring me? My feelings are already dead, what good is more pain doing?

There was a choice that Grayson Hawthorne was given: his dancer or his angel. He chose his dancer and I hope he’s happy. Because angels have wings and we rise up stronger.

idk guys I think I wrote Grayson’s POV really awfully to be honest… also I feel like the 911 meet up was not like their normal ones where they try and like do something (e.g drink or dare) and then talk about the pain but that’s bc Grayson was in such a mess and then they had to drop the bomb that Gigi was missing. so anywayyyss…

I am sorry this took so long and I hope it lived up to any expectation you wanted it too (sorry if it didn’t) and I hope you enjoyed 🤍🤍 thanks for reading as always

TIG masterlist

[the-depths-au]

FAQ

*this post continues heavy totk spoilers

How did it start?

A lot of people started posting some really cool art of a TotK ending where Zelda returns as a hybrid dragon creature thing. I saw a few that called it a “bad” ending and I noticed she was often portrayed with dominantly human-features just like, with horns or a tail, or the purple eyes, etc. I love to play video games(clearly) and I enjoy the challenge of seeing various endings, not just “secret endings” (think Heavy Rain, Until Dawn, The Witcher 3, Drakengard- anyone else play this?) I got to thinking about how her coming back didn’t really like a true “bad ending”. To me, a bad ending, really, would be one in which she didn’t get to magically, miraculously come back in any form. A bad ending to me would be Mineru’s warning held true. And in doing so, it would become The Legend of Zelda because she becomes the stuff of myths. Of true Legend. Fulfilling destiny (botw-era and the series as a whole). My brain sort of took off from there regarding the implications this would have on Hyrule and specially, our boy Link.

How could you! A Bad ending? Is this story at least hurt and eventual comfort??? Does it have a happy ending??

I could tag this hurt and comfort, but usually people who read these types of stories have certain expectations of what “comfort” is (and that’s okay!). Same with a “happy” ending. I don’t need stories to be wrap up in a bow with warmth to enjoy them. Honestly, some of the stories that have touched me the most over the years have had “sad” endings/negative character arcs/tragedy. That being said, I don’t particularly enjoy pure whump, either. What I feel is most important and what I am to do with this story, is to make any suffering meaningful. With purpose. And hopefully- maybe- you’ll see the “comfort” that is possible even in these types of stories.

Wait! So Zelda remains a dragon?

Yes. They defeat the demon dragon. Rauru and Sonia appear in a silent thanks, then they disappear and Link falls from the sky alone into the water. The Light Dragon continues along in her flight above him.

Link is also the only one who can see/has ever seen the Light Dragon.

Are there any other major changes from TotK?

It follows the game pretty closely. It’s just hard to say exactly what is in this story from TotK because there is just so much. In BotW, I headcanon Link took his time. He doesn’t remember anything. He is alone, lost, and the world is a vast, broken place. Therefore, it is plausible/ realistic in my head for all the side questions to be done prior to the ending being reached. In TotK, especially with the headcanon he and Zelda were together in the time between BotW and TotK, I had a hard time imagining Link would waste much time on anything unnecessary to save Zelda. So, with this in mind, I’ve had to justify the side questions to include in the story. Link’s journey is a bit different than my own. Whereas I actually spent 80% of my playthrough exploring the depths, this Link only went down when necessary. Meaning many of the lightroots have not been unlocked and he only has part of the armor of the depths. In the Linktober and the early concept, he has the entire set but this has been changed for the main comic.

How far after the events of TotK does this take place?

Five years.

Is it completely planned out?

Yes. I have a complete rough story outline done. It’s 17 chapters. I am anticipating some editing as I go, but regardless, it’s a big project. A huge shout out to @zeldaelmo and @fioreofthemarch for helping me get the story set. They are both phenomenal writers for the LoZ fandom so be sure to check them out!

What happened to the comic?

I made the decision to tell this story (initially) in writing. I have a very specific style in mind for this story as a full comic and honestly, I just don't feel like my artistic ability and overall proficiency is where I want it to be at this time. I'm still learning! I will be continuing to post art, concept art, and some comic panels here as I go and eventually, I would love to adapt the story into a full comic, but for now, I'll be telling the main story in writing.

How long have you been drawing?

I’ve been drawing all my life. Just for fun, although I took a few classes in school. Digitally, self-taught, since fall 2022. Still very new to this with lots to learn! I have a minor in creative writing and feel much more confident and comfortable with that.

Feel free to send me a DM with questions anytime! I plan to update this periodically.

Last updated 2/26/24

[baronessblixen]

Prompt: 23. "No, you won't understand, ever."

A different kind of post-episode fic for "The Unnatural": After his and Scully's baseball date, Mulder runs into Diana. (spoiler alert: this is an MSR fic) wc: 1,226

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 21: No Longer Stuck In The Past

He sees her waiting in front of his apartment, leaning against the door, and he stops for a moment, feeling like he’s stepped into the past. Back then, something odd years ago, this exact moment has happened. Except back then, his heart had soared, his lips had twisted into a smile, and her sight was welcome. Today, none of it applies.

“Diana,” he says as a way of greeting. “What are you doing here? It’s late.” He unlocks the door to his apartment and she just walks past him. Her perfume isn’t the same as it was back then, so it doesn’t carry any memories for him. All it makes him think about is Scully. Her softness and her subtlety. The exact opposite of everything Diana is.

“I came to see you, Fox.” She’s smiling and he looks at her, trying to find that part of him that was in love with her. “Were you out playing baseball with some friends?” Her smile is wavering. He knows why she’s asking. And what she really wants to know.

“In a way,” he replies, not wanting to give her what she wants. “What do you want? Is it a case? Did anything happen?”

“No, nothing of the sort. I wanted to see you. I called but… I miss you, Fox.” She’s walking closer to him and he’s rooted to the spot. “You’ve always loved baseball.” She reaches out and touches his jersey. The one that has Scully all over it. Diana blurs in front of him and turns into Scully. Into the moment when they said goodbye. She touched his arm as if unsure if she should let him go. He felt the same. But tonight wasn’t about jumping on trains or breaking into government facilities. Tonight was a new beginning. The start of a new iteration of them. Without saying a single word, they both decided to go home alone. Now he wishes they hadn’t.

“You couldn’t tell me that at work?”

“That’s hardly a conversation for the basement, is it?” She tilts her head, giving him all her best moves.

“You could have called.”

“I told you that I tried. You weren’t picking up.”

“Because I was busy,” he says.

“That’s why I came here.” She’s always been like this. Took whatever she wanted. Even if it meant being pushy. The one time he pushed back, she disappeared into the night without a single word of goodbye. Now she’s standing here, claiming she misses him. She’s the same Diana she was when he was in love with her. But he’s not the same Mulder.

“I’m tired, Diana. I had a long day and I’d like to go to bed.”

“Oh right, you have a bed now. When did that happen?”

“How did you even know I’d come home tonight?” His words hit her unexpectedly, that much is clear. She recoils as if he just hit her.

“Where else would you have gone?”

He laughs. There’s no humor in it whatsoever. “That’s so you. You really think that I- Diana, please leave, okay? Before either of us does something we might regret. We can talk tomorrow. We can meet for a coffee or-”

“Coffee?” She spits the word. “I don’t want to drink coffee and reminisce, Fox.” No, he thinks. That’s not what she wants. She wants to push her way back into his life. Into his pants, and into his mind. He’s never seen so clearly. It’s as if someone has removed a blindfold. Scully, he thinks. It must have been Scully. He thought she was just jealous; that may have played a part. But he sees now what she must have seen in Diana in the beginning. His heart breaks all over again, like it did back then. This time, however, it breaks for what could have been. They could have become friends, allies. It’s not what she wants. At all.

“I was playing baseball, Diana. But I wasn’t with some friends. I was with Scully.” Diana snorts.

“I don’t understand what you see in her.”

“No,” he says, a half-laugh slipping from his mouth. “You won’t understand, ever.”

“She doesn’t get you, Fox. I see the way she undermines you.” Diana is pleading with him. She must know that what she’s saying is far from the truth. But she doesn’t give up. They have that in common.

“You don’t know her at all. Or me, for that matter. You did – once. When I was younger. I’m no longer the same man.”

“Clearly,” she says, derision in her voice. “You’d pick her. After everything we’ve been through?” She takes a step toward him and he lets her. “After everything we’ve done?” Her hand is on his chest and she looks up at him, her eyes begging.

He thinks of nights when they sat here together, talking about the X-Files. Nights where they were wrapped up in each other. Nights full of passion. They’re a part of him, but they’re in the past. And for once, he has no desire to revisit it. He touches her hand and sees hope bloom in her eyes. But he removes it from his chest, holding it a moment longer.

“I’m grateful for what we had, Diana. And I’d like to be friends. That’s all we’re going to be, though.”

“Friends.” There’s hurt in her expression and her whole demeanor. She thought she had him. She thought she could convince him. Mulder knows her. He can read her all too well. He doesn’t know why he was so blind before. Maybe he didn’t want to see. He closed his eyes and turned away, refusing to face the truth.

“You’re choosing her?” To him, it’s not a choice, but he knows Diana wants an answer so he nods. “You’re not even together,” she says lamely, making Mulder chuckle in spite of the situation.

“My relationship with Scully is not your business, Diana.”

“You really have changed,” she says, picking up her purse. The pain of rejection is still evident, but he thinks there’s admiration in her voice, too. “Well, I’ll be going then. You know where to find me if you do change your mind. You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

He remains quiet, biting his lip. He does know what he’s letting go. And he’s ready. His arms tingle with the memory of holding Scully. Her soft form pressed against him. The trust she put in him to help her hit each ball that was flung at them. Her laughter. The sweetest sound he’s ever heard. And he wants to hear it again. And again, and again.

“You’re not even listening, are you?” Diana says. “I’ll see you at work then.”

“Goodbye, Diana,” he says and she just throws him a look, not saying another word. He doesn’t wait until her steps recede outside and grabs the phone. He dials her number by heart and she picks up after just a few rings.

"It's me," he says, smiling and wishing he could see her.

“Mulder?” she asks, perplexed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay, Scully. I was just missing you.”

“You saw me an hour ago.”

“I know.” He grins. The memory of Diana’s visit is fading already. “But it was a long hour. A very long hour.” On the other end of the line, Scully laughs.

[kaletastrophes]

The great Ethan Hawke once said “I’ve always had a thing for Westerns.” I, too, have always had a thing for Westerns. And a thing for Ethan Hawke. And, for the past year, a thing for Pedro Pascal. And next month all of my things are combining into one big thing. A film called “Strange Way of Life”, a Spanish western (anti-western?) about two former friends (lovers?) reuniting after 25 years apart.

To celebrate this momentous collaboration of all my "things" I would like to submit to this website a small collection of Westerns I believe would be helpful to watch before the release of Strange Way of Life next month. I’ve tried to give each film in the list a summary and a small explanation of why I included it in the list.

Some of these I’ve included simply because of how wonderful they are, some because I believe they’re going to inform Strange Way of Life in one way or another, and one because I, no lie, watched it in a movie theater with Ethan Hawke himself at a film festival he put on.

(@the-ginger-hedge-witch hi! I hope its okay to tag you the western queen in this! I thought maybe you would be interested in this western love fest.)

Without further ado:

Westerns I believe would make wonderful companion films to Strange Way of Life:

Red River

How does one delicately say….the scene in which Montgomery Clift meets John Ireland is so homoerotic and so sexy it’s almost unbearable. Have you ever wanted to watch two cowboys compare the weight and size of their dicks by trading guns? Well you’re going to love this film! To put it simply, as a wonderful youtube comment said, “give me one heterosexual reason for this scene. SPOILER there isn’t one!!” Exactly. This film has been hailed in film history for 2 things: the first being that Montgomery Clift burst onto the scene in this movie with a new way of acting (the method) that was so incredible it changed film acting forever. Literally. FOREVER. The second being, this is one of the gayest westerns ever filmed and has been viewed as one of the brightest examples of how homosexuality always found its way past censors. Clift and Ireland were lovers in real life and wow does that come through in every second of this film. Yes, sadly, John Wayne is in this film, but please don’t let this deter you. It’s simply incredible.

Summary: A father (John Wayne) and his adopted son (Montgomery Clift) feud over the management of a cattle drive from Texas to Kansas.

Unforgiven

What happens when one of our greatest Western actors ever, Clint Eastwood, thinks "actually Westerns promote an unrealistic black and white version of history and a kind of violence that is unrealistic at best and actively harmful to our society at worst"? You get THE Western to end ALL Westerns. (Note: please heed trigger warnings for this film!)

Summary: After a sex worker is assaulted, William Munny (Clint Eastwood) comes out of retirement to take one last bounty job and must finally confront the violent and reckless past he thought he left behind.

The Wild Bunch

One last job goes bad trope? Check. Men who have aged just enough they cant understand the modern world that now surrounds them? Check. Men driving themselves to madness after they violate their code of ethics by betraying a friend? CHECK. This film has it all, and it's why its considered one of the greatest Anti-Westerns ever made. And, as I've now mentioned twice before on this site lol, the wine scene in the Strange Way of Life trailer is, I believe, a direct retelling of a scene in this film.

Summary: An aging outlaw gang on the Mexico–United States border plan to retire after a final robbery but find themselves having to adapt to the changing modern world of 1913.

Hud

Paul Newman is HUD! Would you believe I added another Anti-Western to this list?? A father and son fight after their cattle falls ill. Thats the simple summary. My summary: What happens when masculinity becomes so toxic it's like a disease infecting everything and everyone around it? HUD is what happens. This is one of the films I watched at Ethan Hawkes film festival, Paul Newmans West, earlier this year. It's staggering. Hawke has clearly spent a long, long time thinking about Newman, Westerns, and his own life and career. Its hard for me to imagine he didn't carry at least a piece of this performance with him into Strange Way. (Note: please heed trigger warnings about this film as well!)

Summary: Honest and hard-working Texas rancher Homer Bannon (Melvyn Douglas) has a conflict with his unscrupulous, selfish, arrogant and egotistical son Hud (Paul Newman).

The Power of The Dog

ANOTHER gay anti-western?? Yes. YES. One of my favorite films. Loneliness and internalized homophobia destroy, we all know that, but it feels like it's never been said more powerfully or put more fully on display than in this film.

Summary: A domineering rancher (Benedict Cumberbatch) responds with mocking cruelty when his brother (Jesse Plemons) brings home a new wife and her son, until the unexpected comes to pass.

Brokeback Mountain

The film that started it all! Almodóvar famously turned down directing Brokeback Mountain in 2004 because he felt the studio would stifle his vision. “(Strange Way of Life) could be like my answer to Brokeback Mountain."- Almodóvar  What more is there to say? A watch (or re-watch) is imperative.

Summary: In 1963, rodeo cowboy Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) and ranch hand Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) are hired by rancher Joe Aguirre as sheep herders in Wyoming.

Extracurricular Films

Westerns staring Ethan Hawke:

The Magnificent Seven

In a Valley of Violence

The Kid

The Good Lord Bird (miniseries)

Westerns staring Pedro Pascal:

Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Triple Frontier

The Mandalorian (series)

The Last of Us (series)

Films shown at Ethan Hawke's Film Festival, Paul Newmans West:

The Left Handed Gun

Hombre

Hud

The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean

Buffalo Bill and the Indians or Sitting Bull's History Lesson

Highlights from Pedro Almodóvar's directing career:

Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!

All About My Mother

Talk to Her

Bad Education

Volver

Parallel Mothers

[s-creations]

26 Ways to Feel Mortal - H: Hollow

26 Chapters based around experiences that newly arrived Geno experiences while trying to find the Star Pieces.

Fandom: Super Mario & Releated Fandoms, Super Mario RPG Rating: Teen and UP Audiences Relationship: Mario/Geno (Nintendo), Mario/Princess Peach (Nintendo) Additional Tags: Rating for Teen needed for later chapters, but shouldn't be to worrisome, I'll have warnings if I'm worried, Poly relations!, Main characters will always be named, Minor characters will arrive as needed, the chapters are not in a specific order, just meets the needs of the given word, please be aware of spoilers.

Hollow: (adjective) Having a hole or empty space inside.

“Geno?”

The puppet, who’d been staring at his hands for a while, looked up hearing his name. “Mallow, are you okay?”

“I was going to ask you that. You’ve been sitting here for a bit now.” Mallow made their way over to Geno. Happily plopping down next to the puppet. 

“Oh, I’m fine. Just…thinking.”

“About?”

“Well…can I ask you something?”

“Sure!”

“Do you ever feel…not like yourself?”

Mallow frowned in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“This body isn’t mine. I know I’m borrowing this until I can complete my task. I mean, that was the intended purpose. But I’ve been in here for so long now, it’s starting to feel like…myself. Except, it’s not. Because this isn’t what I really look like. It feels right though. How is that even possible? It leaves me feeling…lost.”

Geno clenched his hand together tightly. Seeing Mallow’s face full of worry. “How do you feel like yourself but also an imposter, is that even possible? Am I still myself if I change so much? I’ve been stuck in this mindset for a while now, going around in circles trying to find some solution.”

 Letting out a slow sigh, Geno offered a small smile to Mallow in hopes to offer some comfort. “I’m sorry, this… You shouldn’t be worrying about this. It’s just a silly thought bouncing around my head.”

He fell quiet when Mallow wrapped his arms around one of Geno’s. The puppet falling quiet to allow the other to collect his thoughts.

“Before Grandpa told me I was adopted, I sort of knew I wasn’t a frog,” Mallow spoke softly, “I didn’t look like a tadpole, but I wasn’t old enough to be a frog. Even if everyone was super nice and grandpa told me he loved me, I felt…wrong. I didn’t look like anyone else, but I didn’t know what I was or where to go to figure it out. Even with everyone’s support, I felt like I didn’t belong.”

Geno flinched slightly as a raindrop landed on his cheek. Looking up as the sky began to turn a steely gray, rain starting to fall. He moved to wrap his arms around Mallow.

Mallow sniffed before continuing, “I felt like a fraud. I wasn’t a frog, I wasn’t a Toad, I was nothing. But I just smiled and said everything was fine if someone asked. Even now, being told that my suspicions were right, I still feel lost. It’s a jumbled mess of thinking, if I don’t belong where I’ve been raised, where do I belong, who am I really?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while…and then I remember something that Grandpa always told me growing up. I thought he had been just trying to comfort me when I was younger. You know, how adults just say things to make things better but make no sense.”

“Uh…of course.” Geno replied weakly, honestly having no idea what Mallow was relating to. 

“I remember, he said,” Mallow sat up a little further and cleared his throat, “Uh…it was something like: ‘There is no one right answer. You’re shaped by what you learn, not what you are. If you focus on what you think you’re supposed to be, you’ll never become you’.”

“I see… What does that mean?” Geno asked. 

Mallow kicked his legs, “I’ve started to take it as… I can’t get stuck on what I don’t know. I’m not a frog, I’m not a Toad, I’m Mallow. And I need to be the best Mallow there is. When I find my parents, I want to connect with them. But I don’t want the not knowing to be the only thing about me. No matter where I go or what I do, as long as I’m still me and I’m happy being me, that’s enough.” 

“Oh…”

“I think you’re forcing yourself to figure you out too soon. Do you like being Geno?”

The puppet blinked slowly in thought, “Yes.”

“Do you like how you look?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want us to use your other name?”

“No.”

“Do you…hate your old name?”

Geno frowned softly. “I mean…no, but it doesn’t feel like me anymore. I mean, if someone called me that, I wouldn’t be offended. I’d just ask that they call me Geno instead. I…I like being Geno.”

“Then be Geno! You’re still you, your name’s just different and you’re more comfortable. That’s not a bad thing.”

“...I suppose so.”

“And, if you’re still having trouble, then I’ll help! So will Mario and Peach. I’m not so sure about Bowser… But what ever is happening Geno, we’re here to help. And whatever happens, you’re still you. Whoever that will eventually be, I’ll still care about you.”

Geno let out a heavy breath, he swallowed down a lump in his throat as he felt Mallow hug him back.

“Thank you, Mallow.”

“You’re welcome, Geno.”

[kob131]

Okay...let’s try doing this dance with Beatrice one last time.

Tagging @avalonblue12​ and @goethefaustworld​

So I’m guessing that in his travels, Kinzo finds a woman who looks a lot like the Beatrice he knows (maybe a family member) and, probably through some kind of human rights violation, gets her locked up in the hidden mansion as a kind of prisoner-mistress. So he comes around, pretending that she’s the same person that he knows, because he’s crazy. And this Beatrice keeps trying to escape. Until one day, little Rosa comes by discovers her. Rosa leads her out of her prison and accidentally gets her killed. Which should logically be the end of this story.

... Except, if we were to take Battler’s journey with his Beatrice as a parallel with Kinzo and his own tale (given Battler’s resemblance to Kinzo in both appearence and personality)- then it’s very likely that the Beatrice who died had a child whom Kinzo took. How did she have a child? Well, I’m not entirely certain but, spoiler, I would believe this child would be the Beatrice we know in the game for the most part. And that Beatrice became the head of the Ushiromiya family in the games that she was allowed focus. And knowing Kinzo, he would probably insist on a blood relative take over. ... And I don’t think he cares about consent.

So this child (who for reasons I’ll explain soon, i assume is named Sayo Yoshiya) is brought in by Kinzo and is raised by the servants of the household in secret. I do not think the hidden mansion is in use at this time due to the boat captain in Ange’s time revealing that the shipments he brought to the home stopped about 19-20 years before the events of Umineko. And because of this, they posed AS one of the servants using a pseudonym. Or rather, posing as TWO servants- one as a girl (Shannon) and one as a boy (Kanon). 

I state this because Shannon and Kanon are said to not be full people on their own in Episode 6, with a heavy implication that they are in fact one person with two aliases (because of Zepar and Furur’s talk of how one cannot date a person with a husband/wife. As if the pairings of Shannon/George and Kanon/Jessica form a three way rather than two pairs). It’s also why I assume the child’s name is Sayo Yoshiya- Shannon’s ‘name’ is Sayo and Kanon’s ‘name’ is Yoshiya. And admittedly, I feel like ‘Yoshiya’ is a last name rather than a first name.

And so, acting as ‘Shannon’, George falls in love with her and as Kanon, Jessica falls for them as well. ... But the child, Sayo Yoshiya, instead falls for Battler. I say this because of the 18 people on the island, the ONLY one Battler has ever indicated attraction to one- Shannon. And Battler’s interactions grow rather romantic with Beatrice as time goes on, becoming especially so in the sixth game AFTER he finds the ‘truth’ of the game. And on Beatrice’s side- her actions are all but explictly romantic in nature with Battler between the framing of their scenes, the growing vulnerability she has about him, the obsession with his focus on her, her desire for his sympathy. And become explictly romantic as she is reborn as her original self, one minus the events that made her so cruel and vindictive. And it’s also here where her voice, pitch and even manner of speaking seem to resemble Shannon.

There’s also Beatrice’s red truth in the fourth game- how the events that she wants Battler to remember wasn’t between Battler and ‘Beatrice’. Implying that her name, Beatrice, is the weasel word she used to indirectly lie to Battler. Shannon and Kanon’s names are also important and integral aspects of their characters.

At this point in time- Sayo and Battler have bonded. But around the beginning of the six year gap, Battler’s mom Asumu dies and Rudolf remarries to Kyrie. Enraged, Battler abandons the family. And in turn, seemingly abandons and does forget about Sayo. And so, deeply hurt by his absence, Sayo nurses a grudge against the Ushiromiya family for causing him to leave. And so, she begins to plan on killing the family around the time Battler returns, having also become the family head by Kinzo upon his death. And so, by using the name ‘Beatrice’ to create the illusion of an outsider, she uses her supposed ‘death’ in each game as a cover for her crimes and kills off the family, leaving Battler as the sole survivor throughout the four games she was in charge of. Each time, trying to jog his memory and have him remember her to try and justify her actions.

Other elements I couldn’t find a natural way of including-

-Shannon, Kanon and young Beatrice are all the participants who lose their forms in the sixth game, symbolizing which aspect of ‘Sayo’ wins in that game.

-Beatrice uses ‘warara’ as her pronoun, a pronoun that is considered arrogant and haughty....but was used by SERVANTS in the past. Furthermore, in her thoughts during Episode 4′s Tea Party- Beatrice briefly switches to ‘watashi’, a very informal, shy and understated pronoun. A pronoun I believe Shannon uses t refer to herself. Likely showing that Beatrice’s core personality is basically just Shannon.

-Shannon and Kanon refers their father in their duel, whose design is to kill them all. Which is awfully similar to Kinzo’s desire to kill off everyone for the ritual of reviving Beatrice.

-Beatrice focuses especially hard on Shannon and Kanon, especially Shannon as she asserts her humanity and love. Both of which would be sore subjects for Sayo, especially coming from what is essentially herself.

-In a flashback, we see an image of a young Battler describing his ideal woman: a blonde, blue eyed, big breasted woman who is vulgar and casual. AKA Beatrice. This is backed by an unheard person telling the young Beatrice that she would inherit her love for Battler in exchange for being his ideal woman. Which matches well with Shannon’s own shy and insecure personality before loving Geroge. As well as how her appearence nor personality match Battler’s description.

-The same image of a young Battler is used during George’s confession of his past, referencing how he admired Shannon and yet it seemed she admired someone else. Heavily implying that person is Battler.

-Shannon during the first game was surprisingly willing to let Battler grope her, shocking for someone who is already so much in love with George...unless she had feelings for him in the past.

-The first person we see try to help and reach out to Kanon is Battler.

-Kinzo is said to have acted more open around Kanon when others weren’t around. Almost like he were talking to someone he cared about.

-During their final confrontation with Erika, as she introduces herself as the 18th person, Battler and Beatrice correct her as the 17th. Implying that two of the people in the group are in fact one person. Much like how Shannon and Kanon are treated.

-I don’t think that in whatever the original murder was- Sayo was the killer. In the character tab of Episode 6- you can kill off ‘Erika’ and get a message saying that her body wasn’t found after the ‘Rokkejimia Explosion Incident’. Implying that something made the island explode.

Or Tl;Dr-

I feel like an insane man piecing together pieces in the dark and I still don’t feel like I did a good job. 

[antlerx-art]

GOOD OMENS 2 EPISODE 4 REACTION - CONTAINS SPOILERS‼️

NAZI ZOMBIE FLESH EATERS IM SO NOT READY

aziraphale why do you have to be so pretty

modern heh🤩 but not bebop🤨 HES CUTEE

OH. MY. GOD.

OH MY

NOT MOONLIGHT SERENADE

IF THIS PLAYS LATER IN THE EPISODE IN THE FLASHBACK IM GOING TO ACTUALLY FEEL SICK NEIL GAIMAN YOURE CRAZY YOURE SO CRAZY OHHHH MY GOD

okay i’m normal again

SHAX?

DONT TOUCH HIM LEAVE HIM ALONE

oh i don’t think we’ve ever seen aziraphale talking to a demon other than crowley have we?

“im a little bemused as to why crowley would risk destruction for you, you don’t seem his type at all” EHHEHHEHE aziraphale knows he is

POOR OLD FURFUR? WHAT DO YOU MEAN TICKET TO THE BIG TIME

aziraphale uhm i love you but that was VERY naive you’ll have to run her over with the car now 👍🏻

OHHH YES LONDON 1941 LETS GOOOOOOOOOOO

AAAAAAAAA its the same scene but the nazis are about to become zombie flesh eaters

furfur face reveal?

LOL THE NAZIS WENT TO HELL

ah yes nice fresh cup of fire

THE LIFT HOMEEEEEEEEE

aziraphale’s face 🫶🏻😭 “shut upppp”

“on behalf of my………..good friend here” michael sheen had an aziraphale moment in that one interview

YAY ITS AZIRAPHALE’S MAGIC SHOW

okay so furfur uses the nazis to spy on aziracrow HEHEHEH they’re gonna interrupt them during the dinner aren’t they

miracle blocker 💀

the proof being?? an almost kiss ?? i’m delusional

yummm tasty human flesh meal

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THEYRE IN THE BOOKSHOP

“oh there’s no need to thank me that’s what……… friends……..do” AZIRAPHALEEEEEEEEEEE

“to mr fell (that’s me😊) a wonderful student”

AZIRAPHALE MOVING AROUND BEING EXCITED FOR THE MAGIC ACT AND CROWLEY PLAYING THE PUBLIC OH THEYRE SO THEYRE SOOOO

also what made crowley so embarrassed about it in the future?

“the farthing has vanished!!!!”

“you, my nefertiti fooling fellow~ are about to perform on the west end stage! if that doesn’t make you a professional conjurer, i don’t know what does” CROWLEY YOU HAVE TO PUT A ROMANCE WARNING BEFORE SPEAKING THIS IS SO ADORABLE

AND JUSSSST THW WAY AZIRAPHALE SMILES AT HIM????

oh my is this going to be the boa scene? 🫢

“natural dexterity” yeah now i see why crowley’s embarrassed

why does aziraphale have a firearm license HOW MANY LICENSES DOES HE HAVE

“you wot?”

CROWLEY’S GOING TO BE THE ASSISTANT I KNEW IT (THE HAND ON THE ARM!!!)

THEY HELD HANDS AZIRAPHALE PUT HIS LEFT HAND ON CROWLEYS TOO OOOOOHHHH MY GOD THE AMOUNT OF SLOWED GIFS PEOPLE ARE GOING TO MAKE OF THIS MOMENT

these nazi zombies are crap what was their plan anyway

HELP they’re all soldiers

THE MIRACLE BLOCKER NOOO

OOOHHH ITS NOT GONNA END WELL IS IT

shit they took the picture

i’m actually sweating

POOR CROWLEY’S TREMBLING

WOOOO IT WORKED

AZIRAPHALE IS SO GAY WITH THAT BOA STOP STOP BEING GAY YOURE TOO SWEET

“aziraphalala” me reading his name for the first time

girl put that picture on fire it’s literally in your own hands

aziraphale has stolen the evidence with a magic trick hasn’t he

HAHA YESS HE DID

OHHHHHHHHHH THE DINNER THE DINNERRRRRR

SHADES OF GRAY VERY DARK GRAY AND VERY LIGHT GRAY ITS THEM OH ITS SO THEM IM IN TEARS

do demons even have vital organs?

“CROWLEY’S PET”😨

don’t touch his bookshop.

nina break up with them that relationship is so stressful please

NAH CROWLEY TALKING TO THE BENTLEY LIKE A DOG 💀

THEYRE GOING TO HAVE THE BALL YEAAAAAAH

tagging @neil-gaiman since he said he was interested in reading live reactions

[hollyhomburg]

are you calling Jimin a psychopath because he’s not aware he’s on the spectrum? there’s little comorbidity between the two within the psychology field so i don’t know if you’re saying that Jimin is both, because he cannot possibly be (that being said there can be similarities but you can’t have both as one is an absence of emotions while the other is a lack of being able to understand and/or relate).

okay so the thing is that jimin's not actually a psychopath- he only thinks that he is. killing people puts him under a great about of stress and duress. being forced by your circumstances to become a killer and rationalizing that they're bad people so it's okay if you kill them isn't the same thing as legitimately not caring if people die and having that lack of emotion.

with jimin's character i only wanted to talk about how like- the things people say to you when youre a child have a MASSIVE influence on your sense of self as you get older. jimin got told he was a psychopath often enough because they didn't have the words for his autism and believes it. i always make sure to tag unreliable narrator during jimin's part because his internal monologue about himself and what's happening is ALWAYS skewed.

this is a spoiler, so don't read if you don't want to!!!

this will be touched on when jin and jimin finally have the conversation of "minnie you're not a monster i just don't think that you experience the world the way the rest of us do" but if you actually go back and read the very first chapter jimin ever kills someone in- he mentions a few times that his face feels wet- jimin thinks that it's blood but in reality it's because he's crying and is very much having a breakdown because he just killed someone.

he's traumatized and blocking it out. because believing that he's a soulless person is easier for him than believing that he can both kill people who deserve it and deeply regret it all at once. jimin has alot of empathy- he just doesn't let himself feel it in certain circumstances when it overwhelms him. i happen to think that actually probably makes him more autistic only that it's more of a shutdown vs a meltdown situation.

[seriouslysam8]

Hey Sam, I love love love Brumous so far and I can’t wait to read more. I know things are going to get more dark and I hope this isn’t asking for any spoilers but how dark is everything going to get? I guess what I’m trying to ask you is if the death eaters will be sa the Hogwarts students? As someone who went through that at a very very young age I can’t read stories have those story lines for obvious reasons. I’m usually good at looking out for tags or warnings, but I thought I could handle it with one particular fic and let’s just say it was a downward spiral. It was my fault and not the writers in any way, I think I thought I was stronger and better and reality really slapped me in the face. I’m a lot better now but I’m trying to be more cautious of what I read or the fics I get invested in because sometimes as a reader you read things that make you uncomfortable because the writer is so good but then you realize that you can’t handle certain plots and it and it takes a toll on you. I would never blame the writer because they usually warn you, but sometimes we think we’re stronger than we actual are. There was one of your fics I had to avoid reading because of the warnings, and I hope this doesn’t come across as rude but I’m afraid to get invested and things becoming really dark in terms of sa with minors. This probably seems like a stupid ask and I’m sorry if it comes across as rude or anything and im probably not explaining myself well, but I hope I was able to ask the question without sounding rude or like an idiot. I really admire your work and I hope you keep gifting us with your amazing writing.

Don’t worry at all, okay? I got you. You’re not the only one who has asked, and I don’t mind at all. I don’t want someone to ever be upset by something I wrote because they were blindsided or tried to push through. I am not offended or upset at all, all right? I would much rather be frank about what will happen in my stories to make people feel comfortable and confident when they read. It’s not at all rude to say you avoided one of my stories. I am just glad I tagged it appropriately for you and I can guess which one you’re talking about.

Short answer: No.

Long answer: I have no interest in writing those kind of scenes with minors. It’s hard for me to read those kind of scenes and most times I will just skip those scenes when I read stories with it. So I totally understand your concern and your desire to avoid it.

I try to tag appropriately and even give a heads up in special author’s notes before the chapter begins. I remember Bell and I deciding how to write the warning for Harry’s throat slicing moment without giving away what happens but also warn people enough to know it’s gruesome and have an idea of what was going to happen.

Now, that being said, it will be dark akin to Backstabber and Bête Noire. There will be death and torture. I’ll do my best to warn people at the beginning of the chapter if there’s something particularly gruesome. If you decide to read and get to one of those chapters where it sounds like it may be too much for you to read, you can always private message me on here and I’d be more than glad to give a summary of the chapter or tell you exactly what POV to avoid or what have you.

I hope that helps!

[tasteofthedivine93]

Breathe On Me - Chapter 2 (Fallout 4) - 18+ 🌶️🌶️

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51040804 Rating: Explicit 18+ Category: F/M Fandom: Fallout 4, Fallout (Video Games) Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor, Robert Joseph MacCready & Female Sole Survivor (OC) Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship // POV switch // Possible Slow burn // Fluff // Smut // Eventual Smut // Sexual Tension // Post story // Spoilers // Masturbation // Accidental Voyeurism // Dream Sex Warnings: None Words Total: 23,222 Originally published: 1st June 2017

Summary:

The first summer Sally would experience after the bombs fell and her unfortunate time in the vault wasn’t the best experience of her life. She needed to cool off. In more ways than one.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

As MacCready entered the room, Sally snapped around sharply, her hazel eyes caught his baby blues and he could see her cheeks flushed and pink. She looked embarrassed and almost, like he caught her doing something. He watched her breath heavy, he was worried for a second she was going to pass out, but she straightened up and seemed okay.

He let his eyes wonder over her body again, this time up close. He’d never seen her wear so little, he could see the evidence that she’d become a fighter echoed over her skin. A large burn rising from her right knee to her thigh, her shoulders and upper arms dotted with bullet grazes and wounds. Three lines swooped over her left shoulder from where a Deathclaw took a chance at her life. All pink and downright beautiful. MacCready had technically seen her skin like this, aiding her on their battles out in the Commonwealth, but when it’s a life or death situation, you don’t think sexually about someone.

“MAC!” She said rather loud – “I’m sorry, I – I – I was looking for you, I – um – yeah…” she trailed off. He saw her look around his place, becoming shy. He stepped forward and was suddenly, and uncomfortably, reminded of his extremely sore erection. His face both drained and filled with blood from embarrassment, he wished the blood would drain from his cock and go to his face, that would be less embarrassing, but it seemed to grow even more upon seeing Sally up close. He didn’t look directly, but he could see her nipples poke out threw her pink vest, making him shiver, remembering his thoughts from earlier. He realised he hadn’t responded to her – the seconds felt like hours. The tension in the room was thick, thicker than ever with the heat of the day.

“Oh He-hey-hey! Sally, you okay? You seem - erm –.” He trailed off too, unsure how to finish his sentence. He grabbed his gun from off his shoulder and placed it in front of his groin, hoping to cover the outline of his throbbing cock. The hard metal brushed too much against him, a small moan founds its way in his throat, but he refused to let it escape his thin lips.

Sally looked at him again, her mouth parted and she let out a sigh. He could see something in her eyes, but he wasn’t sure what. Turning her head downwards, she spoke; “Yeah, I’m – f-fine, just, a little hot today, it’s so hot. Very hot.” A faint smile grew over her blushed face. She looked up at him threw her eyelashes. MacCready took in a sharp breath, seeing her face at this angle made him think of her on her knees in front of him, her mouth around his member, looking up at him with hooded eyes as her tongue lapped around him. He let out a small cough, snapping himself out his rather pleasurable daydream.

“Yeah, it really is – I hope you’re doing okay?” he questioned, he wanted to move from his stiff pose in the doorway, but he knew he couldn’t. He looked down and noticed she wasn’t wearing any shoes – it wasn’t like her at all. Sally noticed his face change as he looked at her feet, looking down, she laughed lightly. “Oh, yeah, I – er- I can’t find my boots” smiling at him. He felt his stomach jump at her smile – so soft and warm, loving and perfect. She had the most perfect teeth, no one in the entire world probably had as beautiful pearls like she did – a reminder that she wasn’t from this world, she was a treasure from before this miserable time. He smiled back at her. Despite his calm exterior, he could feel his pulse in his ears, his cock still strained under his trousers, remembering Sally glistening under the hot sun. Her curves in all the right places. “You probably left them by the river” as soon as the words left his mouth – he felt his eyes grow wide and his smile drop. She reciprocated the look, fear was now between them. ‘Oh fuck, shit, fuck, shit, why did I say that?’ MacCready thought to himself – he’s busted now. He tightened the grip he had on his gun, his fingers become white and numb again. He didn’t realise he was holding it so tight.

“Wh-wh-what? How did you know… how did you know I was by the river?” she stammered out. His eyes darted over her face, her body, her hair. ‘Hair, her hair is still wet.’ MacCready thought. Her body was dry but her hair was not, a loophole; MacCready thought, his lifeline. He raised his hand from his gun, pointing to her orange locks, blood rushing back into his digits making them tingle for the second time today. He tried not to shake as he held out his hand. “Your hair, it’s wet and – erm - the water pump is broken. I know how much you hate the heat, so I thought you’d probably gone to cool off.” He could feel a drip of sweat fall down his neck from both the heat and the fear running through his veins. Fucking nailed it. He realised he stopped breathing too, he slowly let air escape and re-enter his lungs. He wasn’t the smartest man, he knew that, but in times of crisis, he could think up a thing or two. His smart-ass mouth didn’t have a filter so it sometimes came in handy when he needed it. Her fingers shot up to her shoulders, patting the damp strands, he wished he could run his hands threw her soft hair. She always smelled so good, he wanted to breathe her in, but deep down he wanted to grab her hair and gently tug at it, exposing her neck while he ran his hot tongue down her throat. He could feel his temperature rise again; anymore and he’d faint. “Oh yeah,” she laughed nervously “so it is.” She looked at him again, her once hazel eyes how seemed black. She rolled a wet strand between her finger tips, she bit her lip, he watched her think for a second. Looking sheepish and not at all like her confident self, she walked a few paces forward towards him – the tension between them grew solid. His gaze never left her hazel eyes, he whispered; “Sally – I…”

Arriving back at Sanctuary, Sally took a sharp turn and jogged up the hill away from the guard post, she didn’t want to see anyone, not now. She could feel a heat pooling in her stomach, her thighs screamed to be touched. She tossed her empty can into a bin by the edge of a remaining intact fence, looking up at the town she realised she was near MacCready’s home. Her mind said not to go in, but her body screamed yes, she needed to see him, his cool blue eyes and sharp features. Her feet lead her to his backdoor – not wanting anyone to see, despite she’d visited him countless times. She gently tapped her knuckles against the old red door – calling out; “Mac? You in?” She stood with her arms folded over her breasts, covering her still hard nipples. Despite the heat, they refused to settle down. Sally didn’t hear anything inside, she pushed the door open and called out again. “Mac?” Her eyes slowly glanced over to his chair, his bed, the workbench behind the door. ‘Not here, fuck.’ she thought. She had no idea what she would do if she saw him, she just knew she needed to see him. Sally still entered the building anyway, looking around, he didn’t have many possessions – a small stack of comic books on his night stand she gave him, a pile of bullets and a few guns he’d scrapped for parts. A small dresser with a few empty bottles scattered along the top. A somewhat clean bed tucked in the corner and an old Nuka-Cola poster above the headrest, opposite a rusted old table and 2 chairs. Sally’s mind flashed to the countless amount of times they’d sat at this table, laughing and talking about the world, she found comfort in his conversations – she could talk about her late husband and now lost child without feeling judged, they’d both lost people they’d loved. He understood her.

Her eyes spotted his duster jacket, scarf and signature hat laying rather neatly on the table. She could hear her feet tap over the wooden floor – leading her towards his clothes. She ran her fingers over the material, feeling the texture between her fingertips. A shot of lightening ran down her spine – thinking of him again, knowing the clothes had been on his skin made her somewhat jealous. Sally picked up the scarf, she lifted the green fabric to her nose, she could see the fabric was stained slightly, from blood and sweat – however she wasn’t disgusted. Placing the cloth on her nose, she inhaled lightly. It smelled like him, strong and musky, a little hint of sweat but not much. She became light headed at the smell, her stomach was on fire and she could feel herself become wet between her legs.

She sighed sharply, and before she knew what she was doing, her other hand drifted between her legs, she pressed her fingers hard on the shorts against her sex, rubbing the fabric against her clit. An audible moan escaped her lips, she could feel sweat slowly form on her brow and down her back. She knew she was in a dangerous situation, but she couldn’t stop. Her clit screamed in pleasure, sending a hotness through her body. Oh how she’d missed this feeling.

Closing her eyes tight, she let her mind wonder, breathing in his scent, she pictured his rough hands instead of hers – slowly scraping over her sensitive stomach, going down into her shorts, brushing over the patch of hair she’d now become to love and gently brushed her swollen and throbbing clit. Another moan escaped her lips and was breathed into his scarf, she felt herself smile at the pleasure and she moved her fingers lower. She imagined him whisper her name over her ear, breathe on her neck, playfully parting her now soaking folds and feeling her wetness, rubbing the soft skin and teasing her entrance. She could feel her legs now shaking, she was already so close and she’d barely touched herself. Bringing her fingers back, she pulled gently the hood of her clit, exposing the sensitive bud and her head snapped back in pleasure. “Mac… no… Robert… fuck Robert…” she whispered into the scarf, her fingers turning white as she gripped the cloth. Her lower back grew hot, her mind was lost in her imagination. She thought of MacCready rolling his calloused fingers over her over and over her sensitive clit, she was getting close. She continued to breathe him in, her stomach growing hotter and hotter with desire and lust.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps outside the house – her eyes snapped open and she withdrew her hand from inside her underwear and dropped the scarf from her fingers. Turning on her exposed heels, she saw him standing in the doorway, looking extremely flustered and sweaty. But most of all, fucking sexy.  

His eyes met hers, she could feel her chest rising and falling and she knew her skin was patchy with redness. She couldn’t let her eyes leave his, they looked at each other for a few seconds, but it felt like hours. Despite seeing him outside his hat regularly now, this time made her heart jump in her throat and her mouth become dry, seeing some of his strawberry blonde hair sticking to his forehead from the heat made him look irresistible.

 Snapping out of her daze, her throat opened and she blurted something out. Her voice echoed in the room, ‘Shit, that was too loud,’ she thought. Sally looked away in embarrassment. ‘Do you think he knows?’ She thought to herself, she heard his weight shift under foot, he responded. Sally looked back at him, noticing him place his gun at his groin height, holding the barrel and stock hard like someone wanted to take it away from him. She also remembered her hard poking nipples; she folded her arms without making it obvious.

She’d only just noticed he wasn’t wearing his jacket – regardless of knowing it was on the table. Seeing him in just his white vest, her heart leaped higher in her throat. She let her eyes quickly wonder over his slender yet rather muscles arms –they rippled as he held his gun so tight. God I want them around me, holding me’ Sally thought. She could feel her cheeks grow warm as she eyed his neck – she could see his pulse from here. Looking away, she muttered something about the heat. ‘I said hot three times, fuck, what’s wrong with me? I’m acting like a teenager; I’m a grown woman for fucks sake.’ She blissfully looked upwards threw her lashes at him, she saw him stiffen even more; eyes seemed dark and full of desire. She could feel her wetness soaking threw her underwear now. He responded back, his gaze moving to her feet.

Sally also just realised she wasn’t wearing her shoes, she suddenly felt even more exposed than outside, she hated her feet and hated anyone seeing them. Her head dropped down and she looked at her pale toes, wiggling them on the hard floor, her mind raced ‘Shit, they’re by the river, erm, just, erm, say you’re looking for them here! Or something! SPEAK WOMAN!’ Sally replied; “Oh yeah – I – er- I can’t find my boots” Letting a light laugh escape her lips, trying to act normal, she looked back at his strong figure in the doorway and smiled at him. She saw a flush grow over his nose and cheeks. ‘Was he blushing at me smiling?’ MacCready reciprocated the smile. “You probably left them by the river” as soon as the last syllable left his lips, Sally felt a cold rush flow over her body, and not a good kind on this unbearably hot day. Her eyes locked with his again, this time, they both fell still with fear.

Sally’s mind ran a mile a second. 'The river? How did he know I was by the river? Did he see me? FUCK, DID HE SEE ME NAKED?’ Her mouth fell open, she tried to breath but she couldn’t. Her chest became tight and she saw stars for a split second. Before she could think, her mouth spoke for her; “Wh-wh-what? How did you know… how did you know I was by the river?” She could feel her mouth become dry she waited for him to speak. Sally could see a glint of something in his eyes, but she couldn’t tell what it was. He responded about her hair, where she touched the wet strands on her shoulders. ‘Oh, maybe he didn’t see me. Or… is he lying?’ She couldn’t think straight. MacCready mentioned the water pump and knowing she hated the heat, she felt her heart flip from happiness… or something stronger? She loved how much he knew her – everything about her. Letting out a nervous laugh, she agreed. But also, he felt a little upset, she wanted him to have seen her naked.

Sally bit her lip again between her perfect white teeth, she looked at him with hooded eyes. She was trying to read him, but she couldn’t clear her clouded mind. She walked a few paces towards him, slowly.

“Sally – I…"

[popopretty]

The Day I Picked Up Dazai - Side B (1)

Links to Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final

This is the first few pages of Side B of the new Dazai novel, which was given out as free bonus for those who come to the cinema to watch the BEAST live action movie in Japan.

I said on Twitter that I will not spoil Side B any time soon, but as I have finished the translation for the first part of Side A, I think there is already enough context to move on with this one. Actually, it's pretty interesting to read and compare between 2 sides.

For that reason, I HIGHLY recommend you to read the first 3 parts of Side A that I have translated first, before moving on to this one, for better understanding. You can find the link to the tag with all Side A translations I have done in my pinned post.

Please also carefully read the notes below before progressing. - This post contains spoilers. It is not a summary, but a full translation of the first few pages of the novel. So if you plan to read the novel later yourself and think this would ruin your expectation, please stop here. · I tried to keep the translation as accurate as possible, but as I don't speak English or Japanese as my native language, I may make some mistakes or use weird words etc. This translation might not be final. I may come back and fix it later if I find any mistakes. · This is a moviegoers-only benefit, so please be extra careful when discussing it about on Twitter. Use a #spoiler tag on your tweets or your fanarts. You can share the links to this post but don't take many screenshots.

· Don’t retranslate it. [UPDATE MAY 9, 2023] You can retranslate it but please keep in mind that my translation is not perfect and some meanings will be lost through re-translation. If you are not sure about the meaning at any part, please let me know! Don’t repost this translation anywhere else out of Tumblr. If you ever decide to do it without my permission, at least don't mention my name. I don't need the credits for that. · DON’T GO TO THE AUTHORS’ OR OFFICIAL TWITTERS TO COMMENT ABOUT THE CONTENTS OF IT.

I'm sorry if that's too much but honestly all I want is for everyone to have a good experience, for those who wants to read the novels to be able to read the novels, and for those who don't want to be spoiled, to be safe from it as much as possible. If you have read and are okay with all the above, please continue to move forward and enjoy the novel. Have a good day!

A bloody corpse of a young man is lying on my front porch.

I look down at the corpse, then at the front of the house. It is a quiet morning. The apartment across the street is casting a long black shadow on the pavement in front of me. The trumpet vines planted in the hedge are rustling in the breeze, and whispering to each other in a way that human cannot decipher. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear the sound of the long-distance trucks scraping against the road surface. And there is a corpse in the middle of the stairs in front of me.

In any case, to our eyes, a corpse is always a strangely exaggerated presence. But this time it is different. This corpse blends in with the landscape, becoming one with the everyday peaceful morning scenery. After a while, I realize the reason. The corpse’s chest is moving up and down faintly. It is not a corpse, it is alive.

I look at the young man. He is all black. A high-collar black cloak, a three-piece suit, a black tie. The things that are not black are his button-down shirt, and the bandages around his head. This one is a mottled color of white and red. This color pattern reminds me of some ominous Chinese prophetic characters. The place he is lying is the middle of the stairs that leads to the front porch. The blood stains continuing down the cracked concrete stairs looks like he has been crawling.

Question. What should I do with this nearly-corpse in front of my eyes?

The answer is simple. If I touch him with the tips of my toes and put some weight on him, he will just roll down to the ground below. If I do so, then he will not be on my premise anymore. He will be on a public road. The country’s territory. All those who are in trouble within the territory of the country should be saved by the mercy of the country. An ordinary postman like me should go home and have breakfast.

I am not doing that because I am a cold and heartless person. I am doing that because it is a survival necessity. The young man’s wounds are clearly from gunshots. He has been shot multiple times. There are probably more holes in his body than I can see from here.

I look at the young man, at the road, and the sky, and at him again.

And then I start to act. First, I approach the guy and lift him up by his sides. Then I drag him by his heels into the house and lay him down on the wall-mounted bed. He is much lighter than he looks. Carrying him alone is not that much of a trouble. I check his wounds. There are many deep wounds, and the bleeding is not usual, but if he receives immediate proper treatment, it is not like he will die.

I take out my medical kit box from the back of the closet, and give him some simple first aid treatments. I put a towel under his upper body, cut his clothes with a pair of scissors to expose the wounds, and check if there is any bullet left inside. In order to stop the blood flow, I apply pressure on the pressure points: below the armpits, inner elbows, ankles, backs of knees, and tie them tightly with a clean cloth. Then I put disinfected tourniquets to the wounds to stop the bleeding. Fortunately for him, I can do this kind of first aid even with my eyes closed.

After I am done with the treatment, I look down at the young man and cross my arms. His breathing has stabilized. His respiratory system and bones seem to be intact. But he does not seem to be waking up. “It’s fine already, just kick him out.”, I can hear the angel’s voice in my head. There is nothing more stupid than treating a suspicious guy like this. I guess I should listen to that voice. That is what a wise man would do.

Before following the angel’s advice, I take another look at the young man. I don’t recognize his face. Probably not someone I know. I say probably, because the bandages covering most of his face makes it impossible to make out his features.

I feel an uneasiness in my chest.

There is something strange about this young man. It is impossible to say that seeing someone covered in blood in front of your house is not strange, but I am feeling a completely different kind of discomfort than when I first saw him. I go around and look at his face. His eyes are closed. His face is pale and tired. His breathing is so faint that it is hard to tell without paying close attention. But still, I feel a strange power coming from his presence. It’s like will power, a certain sense of trust in his own body. And more specifically, right…

It is as if the whole thing about him collapsing here is all according to his plan.

The young man opens his eyes and looks at me.

I am startled and jump up. I didn’t notice when he opened his eyes at all. He moves without any sign of movement. He looks without a sign of looking. He seems to be one of “those people”, the kind of people you will never encounter if you are to lead a normal life.

Those eyes.

I’m not a person with an excellent observation skill. But even so, just by looking at those eyes, I understand a few things right away. He probably has killed before. Not one or two digits. Hundreds of people. When you have killed that many people, you will reach the other side of the mentality that ordinary humans can possess, beyond the other shore where neither light nor gravity can reach. The spirit of those who have reached that state will be seen first in their eyes, then in their mouth. Their eyeballs become black holes, and the muscles around their mouth become organs to show the depth of their sin, not their facial expressions.

And I also know one more thing instantly.

This young man knows me.

“Who are you?”

I ask without thinking.

The voice coming out of my mouth is so cracked, I cannot believe that it’s my own voice. If I didn’t hold my leg strong, it would have backed up a step on its own.

“Who are you?”

I ask again. There is no answer. I don’t even know if he is listening. Because the light in his eyes show no reactions to my question. No matter how cold-hearted a person is, if you look at him in the eyes and throw words at him, you can still see some kind of responses. But this young man does not have any of that. Just black eyes looking at where my figure is.

I cannot say anything much in details, but I associate this young man with a certain state.

There is no heart here. Just a heart-shaped emptiness.

Just as I am thinking this, the young man opens his mouth. He is trying to say something.

To make sure I do not miss anything, I stare at his lips and listen carefully.

But he doesn’t say anything. He just opens his mouth in a certain way. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t show any emotions. He just changes the shape of his lips. That’s it.

“Do you know me?” I try asking. “Why did you collapse in front of my house? How did you get all those wounds?”

The young man looks at me. He opens his mouth and breathes in as if he is going to say something, but he ends up not saying anything. His mouth is quietly closed, together with a sign that it should not have been opened from the beginning.

Maybe he cannot speak? Aphasia, or probably congenital speech impediment. People can lose their voices for various reasons. Mental reasons, brain conditions. Having their throat burn in a fire, or having their pharynx removed through surgeries. However, I feel that none of those applies to this young man. There is a sign that he has been suppressing the sounds coming right up to his throat.

He can speak but he doesn’t.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk. But if I leave you untreated, you will die. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He doesn’t reply. Those eyes are filled with a quiet emptiness. From that, I assume that he is listening. Because if he is deaf, there should be a reasonable amount of confusion and signs of claiming that he cannot hear.

“To treat you, or to kick you out, it is up to me to decide. As long as you don’t speak, you have no rights to decide. Is that okay? If it’s not, say something.”

The young man stares at me. A few seconds, then tens of seconds. Then he gently looks away and closes his eyes. Quietly, emotionlessly.

He can hear, he can speak. The reason he does not talk is because his door is closed. A door built of thick, huge iron that will not open now matter how hard you try.

“I see. Then I will do as I like.”

I say, my words echoing in the emptiness and dropping into the corner of the room, in the middle of nowhere.

And so begins my communal life between me and the young man.

Strictly speaking, it cannot be called a communal life. It cannot even be called nursing. It’s more like an adjustment work, a monitoring work, and a maintenance work. If I dare to put it in a terribly devious way, it is like keeping a fish. After all, the young man just lies in bed and hardly moves all day. Except for eating and going to the toilet, he is not stirring a muscle. He doesn’t react to what I say or do. It saves me some effort, but it does not feel like dealing with a human at all. I do not expect to hear words of gratitude, and it is a lot easier than dealing with rampages or complaints, but it makes me feel restless all the time. I have never experienced something like this in my life.

There is just one time, when I try to change the bandage that covers most of his face, do I get a strong resistance. That is such a quick reaction that I cannot even imagine. He quickly grabs my wrist as I try to change the bandage. His other body parts do not move at all. It is just like his hand only has turned into another creature and attacked me.

In fact, that bandage should be changed. The bandage that covers most of his face has turned gray in places, and the blood stains have darkened into a gloomy color. From a hygienic point of view, it is not in a condition for an injured person to wear. So I try to change it no matter what, but he is still resisting so stubbornly that I eventually give up. I have carefully applied disinfectant on it. He will not die.

Probably, I imagine, he is afraid that I will see his face when I change the bandage that covers it. I can see the stubbornness in the color of those hard and cold eyes. When you are resisted with such strong will, there is no choice but to back up. However, no matter how many times I try to recall after that, I cannot remember ever seeing him before. Not even in a photo. So, his worry is absolutely groundless. I think so and I actually speak it out, but there is no response from the other side.

Just do as I like.

I cook his meals, let him change his clothes, and change the bandages on his body. We do not talk. He is not speaking anyway, and I am not exactly good at conversations. So, his silence itself is a convenient thing. But somehow, I cannot get rid of the feeling that I have been put on a boat without knowing where it is going.

The time the cops appear at my house, is one of those times.

...

[grudgecollector]

the most wonderful time of the year | otto octavius

Pairing: Otto Octavius / GN!Reader

Story Summary: After a horrible Christmas with your family, you went to the only place you knew would make you feel better, a very small Christmas party hosted in an Oscorp break room.

Words: 1.8k

Tags/Warnings: !!TAKES PLACE AFTER NO WAY HOME!! Smallest spoiler ever, swearing, hurt/comfort, mentions of reader having a bad/uncaring family, fluff, not fully beta-read

A/N: This is an extremely self indulgent comfort fic. This takes place in Tobey!Peter’s universe. 

Your fingers curled into a fist, tears finally being released from your dewy eyes once you were finally parked in the all too familiar parking lot. It had been a long awaited release of emotions being bottled up throughout the entire morning as you suffered through Christmas with your family. It was supposed to be a holiday that brought happiness and cheer but all it brought to you was an overwhelming sense of disappointment and resentment, a reminder that you were the odd one out. 

A broken sob left your lips as your chest heaved painfully, your mind turning fuzzy as the memories of the morning already started to become muddy. 

The most painful reminder of it all was the guilt you felt for being so disappointed. Had it been selfish of you to not enjoy the things wholeheartedly even though you already knew exactly what you got? You glanced over at the pile of books lying pitifully in the passenger seat next to you. There wasn’t a single present that screamed ‘I was thinking of you when I got this’, no uniqueness to it like your other family members had gotten. But even still knowing that you still felt guilty for wanting more effort put in, that you didn’t appreciate it enough, or smile enough when tearing the paper to yet another book.

A knock on your driver’s side window made you jump violently in your seat, you looked over through your tear filled eyes, the figure obscured and blurry but you still knew who it was. Your window slowly rolled down as you wiped the tears from your eyes and the sight of Peter Parker was finally clear. 

“You okay?” Is all he asks, concern evident with how his brows furrowed and lips are twisted into a frown. 

“Oh… You know, just family being family.” You chuckle as if you hadn’t just been caught bawling your eyes out. “Are you guys still having that Christmas party? I know I said I probably wasn’t gonna come but…” 

“Hey don’t even worry about it, you’re always more than welcome. It actually just started not too long ago.” He reassures you, opening the door for you once you unbuckled yourself. “MJ was just asking about you actually.” He held his hand out for you to take, helping you out of your car even though you didn’t really need it, Peter was just doing what Peter did best. 

“That’s so sweet.” You say with a watery smile, the tears welling up again in your fragile emotional state. 

---

You were awestruck when you walked through the door, one of the break rooms in Oscorp having been decorated so perfectly, not a single inch of the room had been left untouched by streamers, tinsel, or shiny red and gold decoration. The tree was beautiful too, perfectly decorated and standing tall in the corner. Norman very clearly took advantage of the opportunity to go all out when Peter had brought the idea of a party up at the beginning of the month. 

“Oh you came!” MJ came up to you with a beaming smile, a cup of apple cider in her hand. She gave you a warm hug, rubbing your back with her free hand, “It’s so good to see you.” She said with a softer smile, one that told you that she was here for you. 

“We’ve got food, music that Norman insisted on being played, non alcoholic drinks because it’s twelve pm, and your best friends to help you feel better.” Peter placed a hand on your shoulder “Oh and Octavius is here too.” Peter wiggled his eyebrows at you with a smirk plastered on his face, making your face heat up. 

“Shut the hell up, Parker.” You laugh, hitting him in the chest with the back of your hand. 

“Oh, don’t tease them Peter.” MJ half heartedly scolded with a smile on her face, “He is here though, right over there.” 

She pointed at Otto, who was standing in front of Norman laughing at something he had said. The tentacles on his back moved around occasionally, thankfully no longer a nuisance on him like they had been. He was wearing a deep red turtleneck and the long black coat that he always wore. 

“You guys are evil.” You muttered to yourself as you quickly averted your eyes and looked back at MJ. You risked a glance back at Otto, finding that he was already looking over in your direction. He gave you a small smile, waving at you. 

“Oh god.” You whisper under your breath, waving back at Otto with a smile.  “Do I look okay?” You ask them anxiously

“You look great.” MJ says, placing a comforting hand on your bicep. 

You spent the remainder of the party talking with Peter and MJ. Eventually Norman made his way over to you followed by Otto, who still had the ever present smile on his face slowly nursing his own cup of apple cider. The hours went by filled with laughter, pleasant conversations, and scientific discussions you didn’t understand. 

But things came to a halt when Peter stopped abruptly mid sentence and glanced towards the window just in time for a loud explosion to be heard in the distance. 

“What the hell was that?” You asked, your arm brushing against Otto’s when you turned to look at everyone else. 

“I don’t know…” Peter said slowly, quickly making his way to the window and pushing some of the streamers out of the way so he could see outside “Shit, I have to go. I’m so sorry guys, I promise I’ll be back just in time to help clean up.” He was rushing out of the room, giving one final wave to you all and letting the door close behind him.  

“Well, I feel like it would be a good time to call it a night before a car gets thrown through my building with all of us in here.” Norman jokes, already making his way to the food table and taking a snowman sugar cookie from the plate they were placed on, “I’m going to get more trash bags, I’ll be right back.” 

“Yeah, I’m gonna go help him find those, be right back!” MJ said following after Norman. 

A nervous heat began to rise in your body at that realization that you were standing in the room alone alone with Otto next to you, hoping you didn’t seem too awkward as you turned to the side only to see Otto already looking at you from over the rim of his cup.

“I guess it’s up to us to start cleaning then.” He said with a soft chuckle. 

“I guess so.” You agree. 

Both Otto and you went to opposite sides of the break room, filling the trash bags with the streamers and tensile that were hanging all over the room. 

You were really glad you came to the party, even if it had ended as abruptly as it did, it helped you forget how horrible your morning was. You couldn’t have been more thankful to have Peter and MJ in your life. 

You’ve been best friends with Peter and Harry since high school they’ve seen many of your highs and lows throughout your life, especially when it came to your family, and in the end Peter and MJ were always by your side. 

Once the trash bag you were holding was almost entirely full you wanted to place it by the door, you looked down at your sweater, adjusting the sleeves around your wrists as you walked to the door, looking up just in time for you to almost collide with Otto who had also not been paying attention to where he was going. 

“Oh shit, sorry!” You rush out as you lightly bump into each other. Otto’s hand instinctively caught your forearm to steady you just in case you fell, “Should’ve been watching where I was going.” 

“It’s no problem.” Otto smiles, his gaze soft. “Did you get everything over there?” He asks, looking up at the ceiling where the streamers had been skillfully hung by Peter’s webs. 

His eyes lingered on a certain spot above the both of you though, you followed his gaze to the little green decoration hanging above both of your heads. The mistletoe was tied at the end with a red bow with gold edges, hanging just high enough above the door to not be shut into it.

“Oh…” You whisper with a slightly awkward chuckle, “I didn’t even know that was there.” 

“Me neither.” Otto muttered, his cheeks becoming a soft red, “We don’t… If you don’t want…” He trails off awkwardly.

“Well I mean if you don’t…” You add, “I mean…” Your face became hotter as you carefully pushed out your next words quietly, “It is tradition… It’s actually kinda interesting because in Norse mythology Loki actually used it to kill Baldur. But in some stories he’s resurrected and Frigg was so happy that it became, well… What it is...” You trailed off awkwardly, your rambling coming out slightly strained as you tried to alleviate the anxiety you felt while standing beneath the taunting green plant with the man you’ve had feelings for. 

Finally you were able to tear your eyes away from the mistletoe to see Otto already staring at you for the third time that night, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want just because it may be tradition.”

“Who said I didn’t want to?” You say before even thinking, your brows furrowing when you look into his deep brown eyes, happy that they weren’t being obscured by the sunglasses he sometimes wore. 

Otto seemed taken aback by your quick response. Your eyes fall to his lips when they part only slightly, “I…” He starts but doesn’t finish as he throws caution to the wind and leans in, your lips touching in a soft kiss. 

Your hand comes up to rest on his bicep, drawing yourself a little closer as you kiss him back hoping to diminish any doubts he may have. His own hand makes its way to your jaw, his thumb softly stroking against the apple of your cheek before you slowly pull away from each other. 

You found it hard to open your eyes, still feeling as if you were floating on a cloud, but when they fluttered open you looked into his beautiful brown eyes which looked back, swimming with emotion and a small smile plastered on his face. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He whispers. 

“Me too…” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. 

“Sorry I took so long! There was this huge- oh!” Peter stopped in tracks after swinging into the window you had left open for him “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” He held his hands up, you could practically hear the smug smile he had behind his mask as you and Otto quickly separated from each other “Glad you guys found the mistletoe through! Great party, I’m gonna go ahead and find MJ, bye!” And just as fast as he came he was gone again through the same window. 

“That little shit.” You mutter, unable to shake the smile on your face as you glanced over at Otto, who mirrored your expression.

[unpopularbunny]

`

Chubby!Reader X sanemi

Reader is AFAB and has female pronouns. 

MINORS DNI!!

Previous fic: X

Start here: X

Next fic: X

warnings: Long story again, mind break (ish), aphrodisiacs, exhibitionism (kinda), outside sex, cunnilingus, generally rough sex, Sanemi continues to be a giant asshole to your 'friend’, drama, a fist fight lol, angst, ambiguous spoilers at the end.

THIS GETS A LITTLE BIT SPOILERISH!!! MANGA SPOILERS!!! 

Notes: Okay! Here’s the last smut centered fic for these two! (until the last fic hehe.) I am sorry it took me a bit to write! I’m working on keeping consistent without pressuring myself! After this fic I will be writing a smaller fic for before the final battle, a smaller fic for after, and an ending fic that will include smut! I will maybe do a bonus fic after that. 

Thank you for reading and don’t be afraid to let me know what you think!

Beta read by @lets-get-kraken-boys

Tag list: @trishiepo0

Things were becoming tense around the house lately, you being at the center of it. Not that anyone was really surprised. Since three months ago when your ‘friend’ walked in on a sight most sinful, he hadn’t said a single word to you. He stopped offering you lunch and tea. When he passed you in the hall he stared at the floor. Even when you tried to talk to him, he was short, direct, and gone before you could bring anything else up. It hurt your feelings at first, but over time you realized that maybe the reason he refused to interact with you was because he wanted something from you. Once  he found out he couldn’t have it. 

You pushed it to the back of your mind and continued on with work, counting the days until Sanemi returned. It was in the middle of fall, your favorite season really, warm in the sun and cool in the shade. You were bringing a decent harvest to the kitchen when you overheard the cooks squabbling. They needed someone to go with one of them to buy some things in the nearby town, but two of the three had to stay and do prep as for tonight’s dinner. 

When all three laid eyes on you, you agreed to go without hesitation, taking any chance given to get some space from the house. It was a brief walk before you both were in town. It wasn't too busy, but there were a few people wandering the streets like you. You both split the list and money accordingly and set to work. Your grandparents taught you the skills of ‘haggling’ with shop keeps to get the best deals. 

A few hours later you both met back up and took inventory of your shopping, celebrating the little bit of money that was left over. You split the change and decided to buy yourselves something before returning for the night. You were looking at seeds to plant, maybe start stocking up before spring so-

“Excuse me!” You stood up and  glanced around. Was someone talking to you? 

“Excuse me, miss!” A few booths down an older woman was waving you over to her booth, when you pointed at yourself, she nodded, “Yes yes! I have some very interesting things for sale~” She cooed, beckoning you over. 

You figured it wouldn’t hurt and approached her. Her table had an array of many different things you don’t think you’d ever seen before. 

“A young beautiful woman such as yourself must have men crawling to court you, yes~?” She was shoving something in your face before you could respond, “If there’s a man in your life that you want, just brew this like any other tea and it’s sure to make for a long pleasurable night!” She cackled. 

You felt your face flush and realized what she was trying to sell you. As much as you were embarrassed, you were curious as to what ‘components’ were in the little satchels of tea leaves. You quickly bought some of the tea and scurried off to meet back up with the cook. She asked what you bought and you told her just some seeds for next spring’s harvest. 

The walk home was filled with small talk to fill the time. Upon arrival you both stopped, Sanemi was leaning against the opening of the gates, staring you both down. Your friend whispered a small ‘I’ll see you later’ and sped past him. His eyes didn’t even acknowledge her, instead looking into yours. You couldn’t help smiling at him. He wasn’t even injured this time, no, he simply ‘requested’ some time off to ‘recover mentally’. 

By that he just wanted to be attached to you for a few days so he didn’t have to think about fighting. For once he didn’t want to constantly be on the offense, he wanted to exhale all the tension and inhale you. Your sly smile when you saw him was enough to make his adrenaline pump. You were both absolutely enamored with each other and the desire was palpable. As you walked through the gate, you stopped directly in front of him and bowed. 

“It’s good to see you again, Shinazugawa-sama.” You were being coy, looking up at him and fluttering your eyelashes. 

He shouldn’t have to wait; he shouldn’t have to dance around to have you to himself. So, he didn’t. 

As soon as you stood up straight, he grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder. If this had been the first time, you’d be worried, but now when he did it, you felt all the more empowered and excited.

“I told you to call me by name” He tried to sound annoyed, but you knew he wasn’t. 

“When we’re in public I would like to be form-” You jolted as he stopped suddenly. 

“The fuck are you staring at.” Sanemi snapped, setting you down ever so gently.

Standing in front of you both appeared to be another demon slayer, but this one appeared to be very, very different. Flashy was an understatement to describe this man. He was covered in accessories. To be honest, he was quite the piece of eye candy. He was staring you and Sanemi down. You noticed that Sanemi clenched his fists. You were growing more and more confused. 

“Eh~ That’s no way to treat your elders, Sanemi~” He taunted sanemi. 

“I don’t have to respect a bitch like you!” He barked right back. 

“And just who might this be?” His eyes focused solely on you, “Ara ara~ This must be the reason you’ve been losing at sparring; she doesn’t seem like anything special to me.” Sanemi clicked his tongue at him. 

“Well, she’s not for you, so fuck off already!” He hissed and snatched you by the wrist and pulled you along as he stomped away. The other man gave a small wave and you waved back as you went. 

You didn’t ask too much about it, sensing that it would cause an argument if you asked about the obvious ‘pretty boy’. Instead, you both settled into your room. He was as coarse as ever. Sanemi complained about demons and nothing more, missions were annoying, he hated when the demons begged to live after they’d killed innocent people. You chatted about your plant’s growth and the many things ongoing in the house, omitting the part about your now ex-friend avoiding you. All while this went on, you were seated quite comfortably in his lap, working on the tea that you had bought earlier that afternoon on the table in front of you two. 

You had poured it onto a plate and were separating what you could decipher what was in it, but you couldn’t make heads or tails of the mixture. It was littered with bits of lavender, cloves, and what appeared to be green tea leaves. You figured that it was a scam anyway. When Sanemi asked about it, you said it was just a tea for relaxation and you’d make it for the both of you. When you finally pried yourself out of his lap, an exercise altogether because of he clingy boy, you left to brew the tea. 

You both enjoyed two cups, finding it pleasantly sweet and warming as night fell and it got colder. He grew drowsy and yawned, you took this as your chance to escape once again to check on your pond once more. As it grew colder, some of the fish would begin to slow and rest. As soon as spring came, they would start mating and breeding. You liked to keep a very close eye on this so the fish would not overpopulate the pond. 

You held your lantern close, shivering as you were greeted by chilly autumn air. You could see your breath as you carefully made your way to the pond side. The fish seemed well, some of them familiar with you, nudging your hand when you dipped it in the water. You giggled, knowing that they were only looking for food and feeling just a little bad when you didn’t bring it. 

Your skin started to tingle. 

You withdrew your hand, something felt wrong. The tingling started to get stronger, your skin started to heat up, your head started to feel cloudy. When did it get so hot outside? You set the lantern down and loosened the collar on your yukata, sighing in relief when the cold air met your shoulders. This couldn’t have been the tea, right? You leaned, one hand supporting yourself on the ground. It felt so nice and cold. Of course your crotch felt hot; everything felt hot, sticky, and feverish right now. 

The thought of if it had been affecting Sanemi too hadn’t even crossed your mind. 

He was laid out on your futon, eyes half lidded and fighting sleep. He was holding on and waiting for you to come back so he could trick you into talking to him in that voice you’d use to lure him to sleep. He had just about given in when his eyes shot back open. He sat upright. His fingertips were tingling. Not like the normal tingling when you’d beg for him, no, this was worse. It traveled up his arm and felt like he was burning from the inside out.  

Alarms fired off in his head. Could he have been poisoned? Was it you? There’s no way you’d- 

His crotch throbbed. 

He looked down and groaned in frustration, he looked back up the door, his vision just a little blurred and his thinking slurred. No, you couldn’t have poisoned him, but you did something else. Whether you knew it or not. He got up and made his way out of the room, using the wall to support himself. His anger was rising with every uneasy step he took. He loved you, of course, but this was going way too far. 

It was you who he sought first. It was you who he yearned for more than anything else. You had him wrapped around your finger, had him at your every beck and call. But was it not enough for you. He was gritting his teeth, praying to whatever sick god controlled this life that he wasn’t caught struggling down the hall with a massive erection. His thoughts were focusing on one goal. Get his hands on you. 

“What the fuck did you do to me.” Your head snapped over at the voice. 

When he made it to the pond you were fully sitting, leaning to the side and barely being supported with a shaky arm. You had pulled the lower half of your yukata open and had your hand buried between your legs, rubbing furiously. You seemed frantic and confused, panting and whining loudly. When you saw him, you felt bad at first, but then stared directly at the bulge in his pants. You crawled to him, hands grasping at his pants while you pressed your face against his crotch and nuzzled his erection through his pants. The desperate moment was short-lived when he yanked you back by the hair and made you look up at him. 

“What. Did. You. Do.” His tone was forced as he spoke through clenched teeth. It was so hard to talk, you couldn’t think but you needed to explain yourself. 

You opened your mouth; your words were slurred and you couldn’t stop stuttering. One of your hands was back between your legs and you felt like a shameless animal in heat. You told him about the tea and what the old woman said it was, you thought it was just a scam. Your voice was cracking and you were tearing up, but not because you were sad. You were crying because your hand wasn’t enough. You were rubbing and prodding, your thighs were wet with slick. You were crying because you were desperate to have something inside of you, to cure the ache that was getting stronger. 

He understood what you were saying and that you were sorry, but he wanted to make you feel sorry. His breathing was haggard. He let go of your hair and grabbed you by the chin, using his thumb to pry your mouth open. He loved the look of desperation on you, it scratched an itch deep within his brain. Finally, you looked as desperate as he felt when he first pursued you, and it was about damn time. Parted lips, skin glistening with sweat, and panting just to bend over and be his personal fuck toy. At this point he couldn’t hide his grin. 

“Stick your tongue out.” You complied, drooling as you complied.

He leaned down, shoving his tongue in your mouth. You thought that maybe he’d use your mouth differently, but you didn’t care. It was slippery, hot, and it made you feel dirty in the best way. Neither of you cared that you were outside. He wasn’t intending to take you inside just yet. You were pressed against one of the wisteria trees as he kneeled in front of you, forcing you to watch as he buried his face between your thighs and lapped at your throbbing core. 

Your hands were fisted in his hair and you were grinding against his face, while your legs shook uncontrollably. He hefted one of your legs over his shoulder so he had better access to you. He didn’t look away from you for even a moment, hazy eyes focusing as much as possible on every reaction you made. The first orgasm was fast and intense, sparks flying across your vision as you called out his name. Your whole body shook, Sanemi kept you steady until the tremors subsided. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Your core still felt tight, you still felt so hot. You were sure that he wasn’t faring any better than you were. While attempting to collect your thoughts and self-control you were spun around and bent over. His hand was on the back of your head, pushing your face into the wisteria tree. Sanemi couldn’t get his pants down fast enough for his liking,  acting on impulse and urges alone.

“H-Hey we can’t do this outside, wh-what if someone comes?”

You’re trying to push back and get away from him, knowing that once he started, he wasn’t going to stop. You feel the cold breeze on the bare skin of your ass followed by fingers rubbing and prodding at you.

“So what?” He laughs at you, his tone sounding as if he’s mocking you, “So what if they catch me fucking you, huh?” He shoves two fingers deep and you gasp, “I wouldn’t stop, I’d make them watch.” he curled them against your G-spot and laughed when your thighs shook.

“Don’t you want me to show everyone how pretty you look when I’m-“ He withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the head of his cock, “Fucking a baby into you?” He bottomed out with one thrust, your legs almost giving out. You choked on anymore words of protest, your head focusing on his words. You were trembling, not out of any negative feelings, but from the way your own body throbbed around him and just how full you felt.

You didn’t even notice the drool dripping from your parted mouth.

His hand settled on your lower back, rubbing gently, “See? Doesn’t that feel so much better?” His other hand was holding your hip, nails digging into the flesh with a grip that contradicted his softer tone. You nodded your head and stopped fighting it. There was only one way to beat the ‘heat’ that you put the both of you in.

After that, it was a blur of sweat, moaning, and desperation at its finest. You couldn’t say much, just trying to keep yourself quiet while Sanemi let his own mouth run (not surprising), saying and doing whatever he wanted. Slapping your ass just to get a reaction out of you and holding your hair in a tight fist. He fucked you through his first orgasm, not slowing down or stopping, but eventually pulling out of you.

Your legs gave out without his support and you were on your knees, panting and trying to gain some kind of clarity as he helped you to your feet. You were both still flushed and horny, but didn’t want to risk too much exposure.

“It’s still hard.” He mumbled, that wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Sanemi had crazy amounts of stamina, so sometimes three to four rounds was normal for you two, unless you grew tired and wanted to stop.

“Okay, let’s ju-just go to my room, okay?” You pulled on his sleeve and you both snuck back into your room with, thankfully, no one to catch you two.

All through the night, into the mid-afternoon of the next day, you two couldn’t leave each other alone longer than 10 minutes. Small breaks for the bathroom or food were scattered throughout, but other than that, he wouldn’t let you stray too far. Every time you stood up, cum would drip out of you and make you feel embarrassed, while it only made Sanemi scoff. He’d then complain, “How am I supposed to knock you up if you’re so careless” And he’d fill you right back up.

The concerns you had about being too loud were forgotten, even going so far as to abandon your chores for the day. Unfortunately, anyone who walked past your room knew exactly what was happening and the hallway leading past your door was avoided. Uzui would laugh when he’d overhear concerns and complaints from fellow nurses about you and Sanemi. He was genuinely amused and surprised that Sanemi had an obsession with you like this.

Your room was a mess and the air was damp. That night you were in his lap, legs locked around his waist and nails digging into his back while he gripped you tight and bounced you as if you were nothing more than a toy. You both were covered in bite marks, hickeys, and bruises. Your bodies were sore, and even though the aphrodisiac was at its end, your mind was lost a few hours ago, reduced to broken sobs and garbled words. Sanemi wasn’t doing much better, basically using your body to get himself off, not that it was an issue. You both acted like animals in heat and couldn’t focus on anything except chasing one last orgasm.

This time when you came, all you could do was whine and clench around him, pushing him over the edge one final time. It was a dry orgasm for the both of you and the last one as the aphrodisiacs had finally worn off. He laid down on the futon with you on his chest, already falling asleep from exhaustion while he rubbed your back gently. You both slept through the night to the following afternoon, you would have slept longer, but there was a fierce banging on your door. You struggled out of bed, your whole body sore and throbbing. You threw a blanket over Sanemi and wrapped yourself in a robe. Outside the door stood the building manager, alongside the man from the other day. The building manager had an annoyed look on her face.

“Y/N, usually I wouldn’t start issues with your ‘personal business’ like this. However…” She trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“We need to split you two up,” He cut off, “Just to ask questions. I promise.” He was all smiles and charm.

“I-I’m terribly sorry for my behavior. I’ll wake him up immediately and tell him you need to speak to him!” You bowed your head in shame and quietly shut the door. Waking up your partner wasn’t too hard but his usual morning grogginess turned into anger when you explained that you both were in trouble. He was frustrated because instead of spending a morning wrapped around you, he had to look at Uzui and that stupid fucking smug face of his.

After a brief shower to wash the dried fluids and shame off of you, you found yourself in the building manager's office. You were both avoiding each other’s gaze and didn’t want to approach this subject.

“Listen.” She began, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Relationships between employees are strictly prohibited in the house. You sleeping with Shinazugawa-sama is a loophole because you two aren’t in a ‘relationship’ and because he’s not technically my employee. However, the events of the last two days are completely unacceptable.” You shrunk under her words and she paused to sigh deeply, “I just have…..some questions.” You nodded, giving her the go ahead.

“Are you using proper contraceptives?” You nodded. “Are you being…..forced?” 

“A-Absolutely not! It’s all consensual.” 

“I see.” She pursed her lips and exhaled, leaning back in her chair, “What….happened exactly?” She was hesitating to ask this question.

You told her about acquiring the tea with the intent to decipher its ingredients, omitting the part where you and the cook pocketed the spare money. You apologized profusely, saying that you had no idea that it was going to actually work and were so deeply sorry about causing a ruckus like this.

“It’s…It’s okay Y/N really, just please be more careful next time, okay?” She sounded concerned more than angry at this point, “Just take today to rest and recover from this ordeal, we don’t know what else that ‘tea’ could have done to your body.” She smiled. You felt so relieved.

You got up and bowed before turning to leave, “Oh! Y/N!” You turned back around, “Please refrain from any extracurricular things for the next few days, aside from your chores.” You flushed and nodded before closing the door and hastily heading to your bedroom, both to clean and to keep your mind from thinking about that whole conversation.

Sanemi had yet to return as he was sitting in Uzui’s room being laughed at.

Upon the sight of Sanemi’s (Freshly showered but still a mess) disheveled look, complete with bite marks and hickeys; Uzui couldn’t keep it in. They were both sitting cross-legged at a tea table, Sanemi’s arms crossed and clenching his teeth to keep from leaping across the table and biting his colleague.

“Will you shut the fuck up already?!” He snapped and Uzui’s laughs started to dwindle down to chuckles.

“I just think it’s very funny-”

“Just ask your dumb ass questions already or I’m leaving. I have better shit to do than sit here and entertain you.” Sanemi was sick of this annoying asshole.

“Like what? Fuck that girl all day and night?” Uzui’s teasing was merciless, “Who couldn’t hear you both? Humping like animals in heat~” Sanemi scoffed and moved to get up and leave. “Are you making sure she’s not getting pregnant?”

“What?” He stopped.

“Y/N? You know, the girl who you pine for.” Uzui said it like it was obvious. It was, to everyone except you and Sanemi, “Contraceptives? Are you just having sex raw? Do you not remember any of your education regarding sex?” Sanemi’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and frustration.

“What the fuck are you even saying?” Uzui busted into loud laughter again, “What so damn funny?!”

“She could be pregnant! You are SO dense, did you ignore the sexual education class that Shinobu made us sit through?” The answer was yes, but Sanemi wouldn’t admit that.

“I guess I have to explain it to you, huh?” Uzui wasn’t going to let Sanemi live this down.

Meanwhile, you were busy cleaning. The room was just about done and the windows were open to let it air out. You had to take frequent breaks as your hips and back were more sore than usual and your lower stomach hadn’t stopped hurting all day. You figured it was after ‘affects’ of the tea and tried to ignore it. You were returning from the kitchen after taking some dishes and kindly asking one of the kitchen staff to take care of it for you, offering to do a favor for them at a later time.

Someone grabbed your wrist and yanked you back behind a wall. You yanked your hand back and looked up at the person who had been avoiding you for months. You purse your lips at the annoyed look on his face.

“He’s forcing you, isn’t he?” He blurts out.

“What?! No!” You huff and try to leave, but he grabs you again.

“You’re lying! If he’s hurting you, just say that! I can help you-“ You snatched your wrist back from him again.

“I don’t need your help!” You snap at him, fists clenched at your side. “I never asked you for anything! You do nice things for people on your own, which is nice in theory, but you always expect something in return!” You haven’t felt anger like this in years. “I am VERY grateful for all the nice things you do for me, I really am, but just because you do things for me doesn’t mean I’ll have sex with you and that you can be in my business!” Your voice cracks at the end and tears gather in your eyes, he scoffs like YOU’RE the one causing him grief!

“It’s not even like that Y/N-“

“Isn’t it? It’s happened to me so many times now” You hiss at him, “Men like you who come to me, bringing me gifts, food, and trinkets-“ Your anger wins over your tears, “Just so they can walk around the village and say that they fucked the fat girl, like I’m just some kind of milestone they can check off their list!” Your face is red and you’re heaving with rage. It’s not fair, you had spent so long with Sanemi reminding you that you’re worth more than a good fuck that you forget that, at the end of the day, you should always be thankful for any speck of attention someone shows you. You feel so sick you could throw up.

“Just stop freaking out! It’s because I love you-“

“Just what the fuck are you doing?”

You both freeze and turn to the end of the hallway, Sanemi is standing there with Uzui right behind him, who is thoroughly enjoying the drama and can’t wait to gossip about it to anyone who’d listen. Sanemi had heard what you said and that pissed him off more than your friend’s pathetic attempt at a confession. He told you how beautiful you were, how impressive your knowledge of plants was, and how nice you were to him. Surely, you understood, right? At this point, you both were the two most dense people Uzui had ever seen.

“Just forget it.” He huffed and tried to pass but Sanemi stood firmly in front of him, glaring right up at him.

“I don’t care how you feel about Y/N,” He tilted his head and cracked his neck. “I don’t care about whatever pathetic confession this might be, however…” His hand twitched, which didn’t go unnoticed by Uzui, who was on alert to keep Sanemi from doing something that he’d have no choice but to report to Kagaya.

“She’s mine. She can decide whenever the fuck she wants to stop this, but until then? She’s mine. Right?” He was addressing you, they both looked at you. You nodded without hesitation. “Right. So don’t assume shit about her or me. Again.” Sanemi almost stood on his tippy toes to assert himself, but that was unnecessary. Your friend made a face as if he was confused and bewildered. You sighed.

“Just…to you it looks bad, right?” He hesitantly nodded, “But I wanted this. If I was being hurt, the building owner wouldn’t let him come here anymore. That,  I just….I don’t like you in that way….” You tried to whisper the last part, staring at the floor. Sanemi laughed cruelly at this as your friend stomped off in frustration. Uzui called him childish and returned to his room, reminding Sanemi to ask you something.

When you both returned to your room, it was tense and quiet while you moved some things around and checked on the plants. He watched you flutter about, enjoying his favorite pastime. Every so often, you’d have to pause. Your stomach was still hurting and sometimes the cramping would be too much for you.

“If you’re in pain, you should sit down.” He mused watching you hold onto a table edge to steady yourself.

“That was mean.” You said.

“Huh?”

“You laughing at him was mean…and what you said about us.” You were focusing on the plant on the table in front of you.

“Yeah, well, he was making you cry.” He snorted. “And it wasn’t like I was lying. We can stop what we’re doing anytime you want.” He didn’t want to actually discuss the arrangement you two had, fearing it would lead to said arrangement ending.

“I don’t want to stop but-“

“Are you pregnant?” He said it without thinking. You turned around fast.

“What? No!” You rubbed at your eyes and forehead in exasperation, “I take medicine to keep that from happening….” You walked over and sat next to him, he slung his arm around you as a reflex.

You told him you just wanted to relax, as you felt nauseous and sick. He dropped the subject and you two relaxed until dinner, talking until you both fell asleep. For the next few days, you were still being affected by side effects of the tea, so Sanemi helped you with your chores until you could do it by yourself.

You did, however, find out who that man was. When you did, you bowed and apologized repeatedly for being so rude to a pillar. When Sanemi saw this, he told you ‘He’s not even worth a damn’. However, when Uzui caught you alone, he mused that it was simply too entertaining to see Sanemi follow you around like a little yapping puppy. He told you that he’d keep your little relationship with Sanemi a secret, just to respect your privacy. Uzui left not long after that, his minor injuries being healed and heading off to another mission. Before Uzui left, he told Sanemi he should hurry up and confess and marry you before someone else does, Sanemi promptly told him he can shove his sword up his ass blade first.

It was very odd though; you and Sanemi hadn’t had sex once since the tea incident. He didn’t want to bother you when you were sore, still having side effects, and you were busy as you were a day behind on chores. You two generally enjoyed each other's company for a few days, aside from the few times you’d pass your ‘friend’ in the hall and the air would be tense for a few moments. Sanemi opened up a little, telling you about a few of his interests and his favorite foods. You returned the enthusiasm by telling him a few stories about growing up on your grandparent’s farm.

When his little vacation ends, he reluctantly leaves. You bow at the entrance and wish him a safe journey and a small ‘Until next time’. It makes his chest tight when you treat him like this, like he has a home to return too. This is the first time he hugs you before he leaves and it’s very awkward. He’s stiff and you’re confused at first, but you hug him back. For a moment, you can both feel how fast each other's heart is beating. It’s hard for him to pull away and leave as he realizes that he’s truly deeply afraid to lose you.

You spend a week in a euphoric state, sighing wistfully and deep in thought. The weather is getting colder day by day and you wish that Sanemi was still here. Things have gone relatively back to normal, everyone seemed to respect your privacy and not ask questions. The side effects of the tea still hit you every so often, you’d awake with nausea and lightheadedness. The nurses would run tests and exams, but you were okay, so they would just tell you to take it easy.

As the days went by, you’d think back to the way Sanemi treated your ‘friend’, and you’d feel worse and worse with every reminder. So, you decided that you should apologize to him. You pulled a page from Sanemi’s book and watched him, waiting for him to go into the medical supply room before you slipped in behind him. He turned and looked at you before rolling his eyes and turning back around.

“What do you want?” He kept the conversation short and to the point, and judging from his tone of voice, he did not want to talk to you.

“I just wanted to apologize. What Sanemi said wasn’t right-“ You jumped when he slammed the tray he was using to collect medical tools.

“Just save it, okay? Your personality is wasted on him. He’s a rude asshole who thinks everything belongs to him. You let him treat you like shit.” He bends down and starts picking up the things that fell.

“You don’t know anything about him.” He stands up and tries to leave, tools and tray forgotten on the table, but you block the door, “Sure, he’s an asshole, but he’s never done anything to me that I didn’t ask of him. He'd stop if I say to.”

“So, you asked him to fuck you outside like that?” Your stomach drops into the floor.

“Wh-what?”

“I saw you two outside right under the wisteria tree. Real ‘Romantic’ if you ask me.” He sneered, suddenly standing closer and towering over you, making you aware of how much taller he was than you. “You were right, before, that I just wanted ‘something’ from you” He puts his hands on either side of your head, pinning you against the door. “But I don’t want it anymore. Not from someone as brainwashed or used like you are.” You can barely hear him as your heart beat was getting louder and louder, “Besides, he’s just going to leave you when he’s had enough, anywa-'' What happened after that is hazy for you. It was as if you were watching in third person.

You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to head butt him right in the face. He stumbled back with his face in his hands as you were frantically trying to open the door. When you looked back at him, his nose was bleeding. Just as you got the door open and you went into the hall, he followed and snatched you by the arm. He turned you and struck you across the face. Your flight or fight instincts chose to fight, leading to you and him wrestling in a fist fight on the floor.

It took two of the cooks and a few nurses to split you both up. He felt remorseful when he saw your split lip and bleeding nose, even started trying to apologize, but you weren’t going to have any of that.

“You know WHY I don’t like you?” You yanked out of the cook’s hold. “Because I love Sanemi. He wants me for ME.” You couldn’t even stop yourself from crying, “I love the way he’s hard headed to the highest goddamn degree, that he has the communication of a fucking ROCK.” You inhale deeply, “Most of all, I love him because he makes me feel safe. Never ONCE have I ever doubted my self-worth when I’m with him.” Everyone was staring at you and you felt so exposed and vulnerable. He opened his mouth and said something, but you wouldn’t let him, “I never want to see you again.” You stomped off, two of the nurses going after you to clean you up.

After some light first aid, each of you separately telling your sides of the story to the building owner, he was dismissed from the house, while you were given verbal warning as well as probation for two months. The building owner had never yelled at you the way she had tonight. She called you irresponsible and impulsive. In a sense, she had ‘grounded you’ to your room for the night. One of the cooks snuck you some snacks and checked on you as the others were worried. You ended up with a black eye, some light bruising, and a busted lip. That night, you tossed and turned restlessly, your face and head were throbbing but not as bad as your stomach. You just kept chanting to yourself that it was just leftover effects of the tea, but you hardly got any sleep that night.

The house owner gave you the cold shoulder for two weeks before accepting your apology. Thankfully, things started to relatively calm down afterwards, but not for long. Soon after, there was word that the demon slayer corps had made a breakthrough in fighting against the demons and were preparing to go on the offense and attack Muzan directly. All of the pillars would be leading the charge and you knew what it meant. When the news first hit you, it was from an injured soldier telling all the nurses about it ecstatically, commenting that they were expecting casualties.

You didn’t expect it to last forever. You mused that maybe one day he would find someone more fitting for him, or maybe you’d find someone more fitting for you. You thought of a lot of different ideas and scenarios but there was always one you’d never let yourself dwell on. The idea of him dying. You knew that in his line of work that was part of the job, but he was always confident and he always came back. The mere idea that he may never return was enough to make you feel sick.

You couldn’t hide how it made you feel, you were out back on your hands and knees, dry heaving and throwing up. One of the nurses rubbed your back and asked you what you’d eaten lately. After answering a few more questions, telling her about the tea that made you sick, and how its side effects were still lingering, she gave you a knowing look. You knew what it meant, you shook your head and started denying what you knew she was going to say.

“Y/N….have you considered that you’re pregnant? When was your last period?” Her voice was so soft and you started to cry, sobbing out to her that you didn’t know anymore. 

You were scared.

Note: This took a very long time to do and WHEW!!! I wouldn’t have made it without my sweet and kind beta reader!! As well as all the people who have encouraged me with their likes and reblogs! Thank you all for your continued support! I’ve already started planning out what my next series will be and will hold a poll regarding that soon enough! 

[squidgamesmut]

Hwang Jun-ho | All I worship and adore

Prompt: Turned on by seeing your boyfriend Jun-ho clean his gun, you finally decide that it’s time to take the next step in your relationship, and perhaps even include the very weapon he’s holding in his hand.

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho X Female Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Tags: Loss of virginity, kitchen sex, gunplay

Spoilers: None

Notes: Once again not proofread, because I'm lazy so I'm allowed to change my mistakes later.

MINORS DNI

Part of your charm was that you appeared to be very shy on the surface. Whenever meeting new people, you were incredibly reserved and quiet at first, but once they got to know you better, you began to open up.

However, this process of becoming more comfortable around strangers took you often longer than you’d like it to take. On more than one occasion, it had even caused your flings to leave you without the ability to truly get to know you. Their adronitis left you utterly lonely and eventually, your faith in love departed with them.

Until Hwang Jun-ho came along, that was.

As cliche as it might sound, he was different from all the other guys you had ever dated in your life. He was patient and kind, did not force you into anything you weren’t comfortable with, and told you on a regular basis that you were allowed to take all the time in the world. This trust he had in you, alongside his diligence, had you regain your faith.

Perhaps he did love you, you pondered whilst he was cleaning his gun in the kitchen one day, as much as you had grown to love him.

You knew the difference between being in love and actually loving somebody, and if this was what it felt like, you dared to give yourself to him completely.

Your eyes roamed over the gun in his hands as you watched him, thickly swallowing how he rubbed the rag over the metal to polish it. There was a light sheen of oil now, and you felt dangerously attracted to the way he was holding it.

How would his hands feel on your body? You had not yet taken that step in your relationship yet, but you were eager to become more physical eventually.

The gun shone in the dim lights of the lamp, and a warm wave of arousal surged through your abdomen.

“(Y/n), babe?” You snapped out of your daydream at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice.

“Hm?” you responded, blinking a few times.

“I was asking if you’re okay. You seem like you’re zoning out.”

You shook your head a little, smiling at him. “Oh, I’m doing just fine.” You swallowed. “Just thinking…”

“About what?” Jun-ho queried with an amused hum whilst continuing to clean the weapon in his hands. You couldn’t look away from it, basking in how powerful he looked.

“Nothing in particular.” you said with a flush on your cheeks, but Jun-ho knew you better than that, putting down the gun and turning towards you, reaching out over the table to take your hands in his. They were slightly greasy from the oil and there was some gunpowder under his nails, but you didn’t mind it.

“Babe, I know that look. Something is on your mind.” He brought your hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles sweetly, smiling at you. “You can tell me anything, you know…”

You nodded, your blush only growing. “Oh, well, I’m… I know that, but I don’t know if I should…”

You took one of your hands from his to press it against your face, cheeks redder than ever. Shyly, you shrunk in your seat, but your boyfriend would not let you get away with it so easily.

“(Y/n)... Talk to me.” He scooted his chair closer to yours until your knees were touching. Taking a deep breath, you dared to look at him, heart skipping a beat at the adoration in his eyes.

“I’m thinking about… You.”

“Well, good. But why are you so shy about that, baby?” He cupped your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered, but I’d love to know what is making you that nervous.”

“Well, the thoughts I have about you are…” you paused, biting your lip, letting your gaze fall to your lap, where you had begun fiddling with your hands. “They’re a little… Suggestive?”

Jun-ho let out an amused sound, though his eyes widened at the confession. “Oh? How suggestive?”

You shakily exhaled and smiled, crooning at the way his fingers touched your cheek. “Very…”

“Care to share?”

You blinked slowly, wondering whether you should do so or not. “I’m… I’m not sure how it works, though.”

He gave you a small nod, shrugging. “That’s totally fine, babe. Take your time, and if you don’t want to share your thoughts, I won’t hold it against you. Your thoughts are your own and--”

“I want to have sex with you.” you blurted out, cutting him off. “I want to have sex with you whilst you’re holding your gun, because you look delicious when holding it.”

There fell a pregnant silence in your kitchen. Jun-ho stared at you in disbelief for a few seconds, and you were afraid that you had scared him away, that he’d leave and never return, that there was another failed relationship to be added to your list.

“Really?” he whispered, now his turn to blush, “You… You want to do that with me?”

You meekly nodded, swallowing shyly. “Yes, Jun-ho.”

He laughed, dark eyes sparkling with joy. “Oh, you make me so happy.”

He leaned forward, kissing you on the mouth, keen to feel your tongue against his. You made out for a short while and he pulled you into his lap, allowing you to tangle into his hair. After a minute, he pulled back, slightly breathless.

“Uh… When would you like to do this? Tonight? Tomorrow? I can make you dinner and--”

You shut him up by kissing him again, feeling him groan against your lips. Something pressed against your butt, and you felt pleasure shunt up your spine, making your head feel fuzzy right away.

“Now,” you mewled, “Right now.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Jun-ho slipped his tongue into your mouth and wrapped his hands over your thighs, sucking your bottom lip in between his teeth, biting gently whilst he lifted you onto the kitchen table.

The gun fell to the tiles with a loud clang, and it startled both of you from your intense liplock.

“Perhaps I should get that out of here for safety.” said Jun-ho, short of breath. You put your hand on his arm as soon as he was about to turn away, shaking your head.

“Keep it here.” you suggested, “Please. I…”

You swallowed in shame, looking at the firearm, enjoying the way his hand was wrapped around it. “I’d like you to aim it at me.”

Jun-ho slowly blinked, and then frowned. “Are you… Are you serious?”

Not trusting your voice, you gave him a small nod, fiddling with your sleeves. Your nipples had grown painfully hard inside your bra, so you decided to take off your shirt, beckoning him closer.

Jun-ho put the weapon back onto the table and kissed you again, fingers caressing your now-bare arms, the feel of it causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. You inhaled his scent when he stepped closer, taking the spot in between your legs. He was awfully hard already, but you were unsure of what to do.

“Do you want me to take the lead, my love? I will not hurt you. If something is painful, or if you have any regrets about agreeing, all you need to do is say so, and I will stop.”

Nodding, you whispered: “Yes. I trust you.”

Relieved with your full consent, Jun-ho pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest. Of course, you had seen him shirtless before, but this time, it was way different. You roamed your hands around it lustfully, halting at the scar on his waist. He had told you the story about his brother, even though you had not yet met the enigmatic Hwang In-ho, but you knew that he must care for Jun-ho deeply.

Jun-ho gently grabbed your wrist and brought your hand to his lips to kiss it, smiling softly with eyes that contained a thousand stars. “(Y/n),” he whispered, licking his lips whilst he shyly looked over your body, as if it was prohibited to be seen, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your gut dropped pleasantly and you felt yourself grow more aroused, and you reached around your back to unhook your bra.

Under any other person’s gaze, you would have felt small and judged, even though you had not stood naked in front of any man before. Jun-ho, on the other hand, made you feel desirable in a way you had never sensed before.

He wasn’t looking at you with pure lust. This was love.

Jun-ho leaned down to kiss you again, and you melted against his mouth with newfound fervour, relishing in the taste of him. The detective’s hands went to encircle your waist, pulling you impossibly closer against him, the hard tent in his jeans pressing up against your clothed core causing you to gasp.

“Jun-ho,” you murmured, “Oh, Jun-ho, take me.”

He hushed you softly, brushing his mouth against your lips before moving it to your cheek, your neck. You tangled one hand into his hair, the other clumsily fiddling with the buckle of his belt.

It was mouth-watering and frightening at the same time - the sight of his erection popping from his pants made you thickly swallow. It was large, and girthy, and there was a long vein that ran over the base to his tip. The idea that you were the very person doing this to him caused a wave of confidence to wash over you.

You dared to advance, shedding your own trousers and knickers, your unfamiliar nudity causing not a single form of embarrassment. Perhaps it was the way he built you up, and the certainty in your relationship, that caused you to feel so adored and fuzzy.

He melted against you, his groin near your untouched core, and you drew a sharp breath at the feeling of warm fingers on your inner thigh. Jun-ho hummed upon feeling your soft folds underneath his fingers, your slick surprising him.

Your body jerked towards him and you looked at him with nervous eyes. Your boyfriend pressed his forehead against yours, smiling softly. “Do you want me to stop?” he quizzed, fingers running over your slit, and you shook your head slightly.

“No, keep going.”

“I am going to put my finger inside of you, okay?”

“Okay.” you shakily replied, a gasp escaping your lips when his index finger slipped inside. Of course, you had fingered yourself before, but this was different. His slender digit caressed your inner walls, spreading you open slowly.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “Keep going.”

Jun-ho began fingering you and soft moans came from your throat, eyes locking with his. It was an intimate moment.

You were happy that you had waited until this very moment to lose your virginity. You had wanted no one else to have taken it from you.

He eased in another finger slowly, and the both of you watched how it disappeared into your core. The burn of the stretch was there, but you knew that you had to go through it. Whilst his fingers moved, it became easier due to your ever-building slick, your toes starting to tingle when he curled them.

Jun-ho shifted to stand beside you, his palm grazing against your sensitive clit. Your eyes darted between him and the way he was finger-fucking you, the noises that left your lips like music to his ears. You kissed him deeply and moaned into his mouth, keen to feel more of him.

“More,” you croaked eagerly, “Please, Jun-ho, I need you.” A familiar warm knot in your lower abdomen alerted you that you couldn’t be far away from orgasm, even though he had not been going on for that long. The detective pulled away his hand, stained with your juices, and he brought it to his mouth to lick it off.

This sight caused another wave of pleasure to surge through you. Before you could comprehend it, you plunged your tongue into his mouth, tasting yourself. Jun-ho chuckled into the kiss, the sound pleasantly reverberating through your skull. You tangled into his hair, not breaking the kiss despite him moving to stand between your legs. He grabbed your knee, pulling it over his hip.

His length rested on your aching pussy and you mewled, pulling back with a moan. Jun-ho cupped your chin into his hand, licking his lips, his other hand guiding his tip to your dripping entrance. “Ready, love?” he whispered, sweat already beading on his forehead. You nodded meekly, biting your bottom lip, knowing that it was going to hurt.

Much to your surprise, it barely did.

With a grunt, Jun-ho slowly slipped inside, feeling your walls grip around him immediately. It felt like he was a puzzle piece that had been missing all your life, and that now, you were finally whole.

It slightly burned, but the pain eased. Curling your toes, you dared to shift against him, making yourself more comfortable.

“Can I move, (Y/n)?”

“Yes, Jun-ho.” you moaned, “Please, do!”

He moved his hips once - twice - thrice, and after the initial discomfort of the stretch was over, you were plunged into a sea of pleasure you had never experienced before.

To Jun-ho, it was equally as marvellous. Finally being one with you made him the happiest man alive, and the detective tilted up your chin to sweetly kiss you. You allowed him full control over it, wrapping your arms around his neck, whinging for more.

He made you feel like you were enough.

Suddenly, you didn’t want to kiss him. No, you needed to see him, watch him take you, witness how he plunged his pelvis into yours. Several strings of saliva bound you to his lips when you pulled away, and you stared at him with a slack jaw, strained sounds leaving your throat in sync with his movements inside of you.

Bracing yourself against the table with one hand, you were surprised by the feel of cool metal. The gun still laid upon the surface at your behest, and you picked it up, Jun-ho’s thrusts momentarily pausing. Your pleading eyes met his whilst you held it out to him. It was enough for him to take it into his clammy hand, the trigger finger still moist from being inside of you earlier.

“Are you sure?”

“More than I’ll ever be.” you muttered, “Please, Jun-ho, fuck me.”

Your heart drummed against your chest when he pressed the barrel against your forehead. He was hesitant, but your eagerness even when he aimed it at you eased his senses. “(Y/n)...” he whispered, hoping to receive a reaction.

“Jun-ho, I need you.” you sighed, lips trembling.

Was the firearm loaded? It couldn’t be loaded, right? He had been cleaning it, and--

He resumed thrusting into you again and you moaned, the heat of his cock contrasting starkly with the icy coolness of the gun. It pressed firmer against your forehead when he sped up his hips, pummeling his body into you whilst aiming the gun between your eyes.

“Take it…” he grunted, “Take it or I’ll shoot.”

Your cheeks flushed bright red at how deep his voice was, huskily slipping off his tongue. Something in your eyes spurred him on, and he smirked. Whether the gun was loaded or not, he certainly wasn’t giving it away.

“Oh, Jun-ho, please… You make me feel so good…”

He slipped the gun down, pressing it against your cheek so he could lean in closer to you. His mouth collided against your jaw, sharply nipping at your skin. “Open up,” said he, and you were about to ask what he meant in between the moans that left your swollen lips, when you felt the barrel at your chin.

Jun-ho pulled back, heavily breathing, bewildered eyes meeting yours. Despite his lust, he still searched for signs of regret, relieved that he didn’t find any. You were keen to open your mouth, and felt the metal hit your tongue.

It tasted of iron, gunpowder and oil, and a jolt of pleasure shot towards your core. The barrel was thick, but you dared to wrap your lips around it, your eyes watering at the strain on your jaw. “You’re such a good girl,” groaned the detective, “Goodness, you’re a beautiful mess.”

You nodded, the metal painful against your teeth, but the lingering danger clouded your mind with lust. Oh, you needed him to do this more often, and you whined around the firearm, his other hand gripping your thigh firmly.

Your tongue slithered against the muzzle and felt your orgasm creep up on you.

What if the gun really was loaded?

You blinked at your boyfriend, who gazed at you adoringly. He had noticed the clench of your pussy around his length and smirked a bit, tilting his head slightly whilst he rubbed the barrel against the expanse of your tongue.

“Jun-ho…” you mewled, eyes widening at the sudden click of the safety coming off. His finger rested on the trigger, heightening your senses.

“Cum for me.” he demanded all of a sudden, “My love…” he soon added, not wanting to scare you away.

You threw your head back in pleasure, your heartbeat drumming in your ears. For a second, you saw nothing but stars, closing your eyes, body trembling with your climax.

Jun-ho tossed the weapon onto the table, quickly wrapping his arm around your waist instead lest you fall upon losing all control over your body.

If this was what the first orgasm he gave you was like, you couldn’t wait for more.

“Jun… Jun-ho…” you sighed, legs shaking in the aftershocks of your high. The sound of your voice caused your boyfriend to pull out immediately, for he didn’t want to spill inside of you. Instead, he came over your lower abdomen with a grunt, eyes focused upon your face, his teeth gritting whilst his seed painted your skin off-white.

He groaned your name, diving forward to attach his mouth to yours despite the pair of you being out of breath. The kiss was sloppy, but it didn’t matter. Gradually, as you found yourself growing colder between your legs yet pleasantly warm in the afterglow, you cupped his face, stroking his hair, feeling his hands roam all over you.

“(Y/n),” Jun-ho whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jun-ho,” you replied, “Thank you… Thank you for all this.”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

You hummed softly, brushing your nose against his softly. “The gun,” you breathed, your breath hitting his lips, causing him to swallow. “It wasn’t loaded, was it?”

His gaze became even more softer than it already was and a smile tugged at his mouth. “What do you think, my love? I would never put you into such danger.” You tutted at the answer and kissed him, letting your hands slip to his waist, inching ever closer to his cock.

“The only problem,” Jun-ho told you, “is that now, I need to clean the gun again.”

A huff of laughter left your lips and you swallowed, tilting your head to the side a little. “That can wait, right?”

Your hand wrapped around his length now, and Jun-ho let out a delicious grunt, already addicted to your touch.

“Yes,” he groaned, “Yes, it can wait.”

Merged requests by @ballorawan740 and anonymous Tagged: @romewritingshop

[doctorstethoscope]

Yes, Mr. President || The Thing

art by @multiverse-mxdness

hello my loves! I am on vacation so this chapter and the next one are posting from the queue. I will update the masterlist and respond to taglist requests when I return!

story summary: Scandal! AU– your mentor, David Rossi, has recruited you to make Senator Aaron Hotchner the next President of the United States. Once described as a political nun, the Senator helps you see that maybe you can mix business and pleasure.

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: drug use (prescribed), additional triggers in tags to prevent spoilers

wordcount: 2k

The time you spend at Camp David is… restorative. You go every weekend— Aaron works very little, if at all, and you do the same. Holding onto the secret between you when you both worked at the White House felt burdensome and heavy— now it feels like the greatest gift to be able to share a secret with him at all.

It’s nice that Morgan knows, and even nicer that he pretends that he doesn’t, that he leaves you alone, let for a lone eyebrow quirk or sly grin. There are moments when you find yourself believing there’s nothing strange about the situation at all, that your dating life and it’s complications are no more or less intense than anyone else’s. Then, of course, you see your boyfriend and his wife on the news, and you snap back to reality.

“How did you ever make it look like those two like each other?” JJ asks one day in between bites of salad as you watch the President and the First Lady deplane Air Force One on the news. “At the beginning of the campaign, they both looked like they were only there because somebody was forcing them at gunpoint.”

“They’re high school sweethearts, JJ. They needed some alone time, and to not have 50 cameras shoved in their face, but it wasn’t all that difficult. They do like each other,” you scoff goodnaturedly, rolling your eyes to avoid looking at her.

“I don’t know. Maybe the White House has changed them. Will says the First Lady can be a bit high strung,” she shrugs.

“I didn’t realize you were still seeing Will?” You say, trying to change the subject. “That’s nice. You must really like him.”

“Yeah, I do,” she agrees a little bashfully, turning the subject once again to get the focus off of herself. “I guess ever since the President came home from the hospital, she’s dialed it up to eleven.”

“Well, you can imagine the kind of trauma she’s dealing with,” you remind JJ. And to think Will doesn’t even know about the divorce. You hoped, at least.

“I guess that’s true. You must know her better– what’s she like, really?”

You school your face into a pleasantly neutral expression. “Haley and I got along well on the campaign,” you said, choosing your words carefully to avoid lying to your friend. “I think being a politician’s wife is an incredibly demanding job, and one that rarely gets the credit it deserves. All of that gets magnified when you become the First Lady, naturally. And then to top it off, she nearly lost her husband. So I imagine she’s earned the right to get a little snippy,” you say gently.

“Who’s getting snippy with who?” Morgan asks, stepping back into the conference room with his own takeout container.

“Oh, god, me, if Senator Hoynes’ Communications Director doesn’t send over that NDA I emailed him hours ago!” You lament.

++++++++++

You’re a little surprised when your house phone rings in the middle of the week— pleasantly so, of course, but you and Aaron have gotten into a good business/pleasure rhythm of seeing each other on the weekends.

“Hey,” you say into the line, smiling for no one in particular.

“Hi,” he says back warmly.

“Is everything okay? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you,” you say.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, although you don’t quite believe him. “I just wanted to hear your voice. We are allowed to talk outside of Camp David, aren’t we?” he teases.

“How are things in your neck of the woods?” You ask.

“You know, you’ll be shocked to hear this, but working with Congress has proved to be very difficult. It doesn’t seem like any of them are particularly motivated to do their jobs outside of an election year.”

You let out a dramatized gasp. “You’re kidding! I’m clutching at my pearls as we speak,” you laugh.

“I don’t want to talk about work. I want to talk about you,” Aaron says, and you feel heat creep up to your cheeks at the thought of it.

“What about me?” You ask.

“Will you just… tell me a story about you? Something I don’t already know? Like I said, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Sure,” you smile, although you’re feeling a little self-conscious. “Have I ever told you that I did debate in college?”

“No, you didn’t, although I can’t say I’m surprised,” he tells you.

“And you shouldn’t be,” you laugh. “But that means you don’t know that Rossi used to send me into the ring to make the opposing freshmen cry.”

Aaron guffaws out a laugh at that. “I mean, I should have guessed, but now I can’t help but picture it.”

“I didn’t even realize what he was doing at first. The first round is always a puff piece, it’s basically a warm up. The question was something stupid, like whether or not kids should be able to opt out of labor protections, but I didn’t realize that the other teams were sending their weakest links in, and I absolutely wiped the floor with them. I didn’t really stop to think about their arguments because I knew mine were better. In retrospect, someone should have called a mercy rule on that match up,” you explain, and you both laugh.

“So basically, it’s never been good to bet against your team,” Aaron says.

“Never ever,” you agree.

“I’m lucky to have you, then.” Aaron says. “For all the other reasons, too.”

“You’re having a rough pain day, aren’t you?” You ask.

“How do you know everything?” He groans.

“Did you take the medicine Dr. Gallagher prescribed?”

“It makes me loopy. It makes me feel like I shouldn’t have my finger on the nuclear button.”

“Is your finger on the nuclear button?”

“There’s not a real button, you know,” he scoffs, but you don’t let him avoid the question.

“Seriously. Are we on the brink of a nuclear war, are we in a situation so dire that you think you’ll need to order a full military assault in the next six hours?” You ask him.

“If we were, you wouldn’t have the clearance for that information,” he reminds you.

Your eyes roll so far back into your head that you think you watch your brain cells die. “Take the damn pills, Aaron. You’re already America’s hero, you don’t need to keep on suffering,” you tell him.

“It’s not about being America’s hero,” he grumbles, but you can hear him pop the cap off of a bottle.

“I know, baby. But I’ll tell you what— pain makes people loopy, too. You can’t end a military intelligence briefing early because you’re hurting and nearly start a war.”

“I will take that under advisement,” Aaron says grouchily, but you can hear the smile in his tone.

“Aaron?” you say.

“Yeah,” he says tenderly, in that voice he saves just for you.

“Stop working. It’s almost 9pm. Take the pills, kiss your son, and go to bed,” you advise him.

He sighs, looking over the memos still piled up at his desk. You were right. They could wait. “Yeah. Okay,” he agrees.

“And remember that I love you.”

“Couldn’t forget that. It’s the beginning and end of everything,” he tells you.

+++++++++++++

The worst part about going to Camp David wasn’t the bugs, or the lack of cell service, or even the tree sap that got all over your car and was eating away at the finish little by little. The worst part by far was the ride home. You’d kiss Aaron goodbye, he’d insist on putting your bag in the backseat of your car for you, and then you’d make the 90 minute drive back to reality— away from your secret forest hideaway with him.

You miss him before you even leave the property– before his waving, smiling figure becomes a speck in your rearview. You miss him as soon as you put the car in drive, and you’ll miss him until you come back the following Friday evening. You’ve become grossly codependent while somehow still managing to live your life basically as normal.

You know that someday soon, things won’t be like this— this blissfully simple, this easy. The divorce will become public. Or you’ll get into a fight— it’ll be silly, or it will be serious. There’s no predicting it. It makes your hackles rise to think about it— and your thoughts can’t help but wonder as you take these long drives home. What will be The Thing? What will swoop in and crush this domestic slice of peace the two of you have carved for yourself? And what can you do to stop it?

You take a deep breath as you tap your thumbs against the steering wheel– in through your nose, out through your mouth. It’s foolish to worry about someday being unhappy when you’re happy now. You read that somewhere— reading it was easier than applying it. But you’re happy now. It’s been nearly three months since Aaron was shot. It was so recent and a lifetime ago. Time marches on. Whatever happens between the two of you, you’ll fix it. No more running, no more hiding. That much, you were confident in. That’s all you control today– and that’s what matters.

You’re so distracted that you don’t notice the car to your left that’s careening towards it’s respective stoplight. You’re so focused on your own train of thought that you don’t catch it’s headlights flashing quickly against the puddles that had gathered in the deep city potholes. You don’t hear the screeching of brakes, because there is none— the honking of horns from the other surrounding cars comes a moment too late.

The collision knocks the wind out of you. You gasp, but the shattering of glass is louder– much louder. Your seatbelt turns into a knife– slices into your collarbone, and it burns. You look in front of you, and your steering wheel is gone— replaced with a big white blanket. Your car isn’t moving, you realize. You need to get home.

“Are you okay?” Someone’s opened your car door– you turn your head away from him. It hurts.

“I need to get home,” you tell them. “Get out of my car. Get out!” You say, realizing that he shouldn’t be here.

“You’ve been in an accident,” the man says. “I’m going to call for help. Are you okay?”

“I was on my way home,” you say. You feel like you’re whispering— you can barely hear yourself. “I was on my way home!” You repeat, louder.

“I’m on the corner of 16th and U street,” you hear the man say, but it feels like he’s talking to someone else.

“That’s not where I live,” you correct the man, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“There’s just a woman in the car,” he continues on. “She’s conscious, but she’s out of it. She has some superficial cuts from the glass.”

“That’s not where I live!” You say, speaking over the man’s one-sided conversation.

“The other guy didn’t even stop. Yeah, a dark blue SUV, maybe a Nissan,” he continues. “I couldn’t get a plate, it happened so fast.”

“I need to get home,” you repeat.

“Ma’am, you’ve been in an accident. You need medical attention.”

“Oh,” you say, realizing it for the first time. An accident. You look in front of you, taking in your shattered windshield for the first time. A car accident, you realize. A flash of blue light gets your attention, and you whip your head in its direction. Ow, fuck. The guy who’d broken into your car— a good samaritan, you correct, the guy who was trying to help you— steps away. A new man takes his place.

“Ma’am, my name is Malcolm. You’ve been in an accident, but we’re here to help,” he says.

“You’re being very loud,” you tell him, your head suddenly pounding.

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am,” he says as he reaches over you. He smells nice, you realize. Like pine. Like Camp David.

“Do you have any medical conditions? Is there anyone we can call for you?” He asks as he flashes a light in your eyes. You squint.

“Morgan,” you groan out. “Call Derek Morgan.”

@shmaptainhotchner @call-me-mrsreid @dadbodhotch11 @the-modernmary @arsonhotchner @ssamorganhotchner @ssahotchie @rousethemouse @angelfxllcm @skyler666 @mintphoenix @gspenc @g-l-pierce @wheelsupkels @chelseagirl77 @ashhotchner