#the ones who seem like they aren't are the most disturbing

[muntitled]

Monopoly | Sevika

⤑ Sevika x Hyper!fem reader

⤑ Summary: You were being extra flirty with your clients. Vika's stone glare icing every curved contour of your breasts spilling out of your v-neck,your hips, and your ass… you knew you were in massive shit.

⤑ Warnings: Language, Possessive!Sevika, Jealousy, Prostitute!Reader, Toxic Relationship, Ownership Kink, Smut (+18) mdni, Dark fic, Pleasure dom!Sevika, Thigh riding, Impact Play, Ownership kink, Hard Dom!Sevika, Sub!Reader, Dirty Talk, Needy!Reader, Masochistic !Reader, Sadist!Sevika

Yall remember that fight scene when Cait bit Sev… mhm, yeah…

She was pissed.

More than pissed if such a thing even existed.

"Aren't you overdoing it, just a tad?" When you look over at your co-worker, all you can see warring in her pale grey eyes is nothing but intense fear. Vika has that effect on people.

You try to disassociate.

You wage war with your own consciousness, pretending his hand was hers.

That's the only way you could get through these clients and their slithering hands drifting along your exposed thigh, urging you to have 'just one more drink' so you could be drunk enough to be used for whatever their lascivious little minds could think of.

Your current client, bless his soul, was chatting animatedly to his crooked group of gang members while his hand creeped over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. He didn't feel like her.

He's far too skinny. Such a jagged edge. It is difficult to imagine it was her hardness you are pressing your softness up against.

You are currently knee-deep in your job, keeping a couple of clients company in a neon lit corner of The Last Drop. Your co-worker speaks to you over the thick arm of her own client who uses her as nothing more than a thing to grope, while the gang speaks amongst themselves. Your conversation is subtle enough so as not to disturb the narcissistic man from his tedious, incredibly one-sided conversation.

You lift your cup full of untouched whiskey to your mouth, pretending to take a sip but really using it as a screen to hide your lips when you whisper back, "Overdoing what? My job?"

"Chatting these lowlifes up to give them severely underpriced blowjobs was your job. Not anymore." You didn't like the way she said 'was’. You really didn't like the way your client put his hand on your exposed thigh. It seems he had taken your miniskirt as an invitation to press his rough hands against your full, touching thighs. He still speaks to his friends as if you're not a real person, just something there. Something to touch.

"It's still my job, I'm still a whore-"

"Your girlfriend has been glaring at our table since she came in." Her words send an electrifying kind of rattle down your spine, forcing your eyes to briefly meet the dead ones of the woman seated directly across the dance floor. Dead, cold eyes stare at you, have been staring at you since she saw you hard 'at work'. You attempted to evade all eye contact over the course of the night and you had succeeded for the most part.

She didn't get to do that.

She didn't get to claim you and then simultaneously refuse to be seen with you.

Naturally, you would do the same.

"Vika's not my girlfriend," you hated the way you quickly ushered the words out of your mouth, immediately drowning them with whiskey so as to not feel their effects so poignantly.

"Vika?" Your co- worker scoffs in amusement. “I haven't seen a more volatile couple in a while,” She raises her glass to you, “Thanks for the front row seats” While your co-worker’s chuckles carry across the congested bar (what is in actuality, a thinly veiled brothel), Sevika feels her heavy fists clench. She stays in the same spot she's been sitting at. Her legs spread, her elbows resting on her knees. Glaring. Drinking. Glaring some more.

She's far grumpier than usual. Anyone could see it.

Her eyes never leave your table as she downs her nth glass of the strongest whiskey The Last Drop has to offer and she watches how effortlessly you betray her. Just last night, it had been her name tumbling from your trembling lips in drunken spurts as your cunt fought to take every one of her fingers. It had been your drunken, half lidded eyes that had looked up at her like a God, pleading for her to let you cum for umpteenth time as you bucked wildly against her. You came because she allowed you to. Like a loyal dog, you had dutifully accepted everything she gave you.

So why were you being such a brat?

Sevika has had to watch you bat your eyes up at unfamiliar men. All she could think of is dismembering each and every one of those hands groping at you and making you watch as the blood splattered. The thought alone caused a rough sort of groan to rumble from her mouth. She was bloodthirsty and horny and luckily that was your speciality.

Sevika downed the final drops of whiskey that had accumulated from the bottom of the bottle. Wiping her plump, toned lips with the back of her hand, she finally rises, making a direct beeline for your table.

As she nears, your heart hammers, yet still you refuse to look at the woman and her intimidating height or her even more intimidating arms. She wasn't wearing her cloak tonight, so you could see everything. All 185 centimeters of pure strength. Your legs clenched under the table as you looked innocently up at her.

"Move," Sevika gruffs out the very second she stands in front of the table, effectively silencing everyone present. The crass rap song bleeding from unseen speakers continues in the backdrop.

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Your client begins to ask, stunned yet remarkably shaken up. Despite trying to sound gruff, you could feel a slight tremor in his bones. The way his shoulders shrink under Sevika's shadow makes you roll your eyes.

Sevika's voice is calm but menacing. “Look, I get it. She has the body of a goddess and she fucks like she doesn't have a father-”

“H-Hey-” she doesn't spare you a single glance. Continuing to stare down the little man. Never once stumbling over her words.

“If you don't wanna lose your life, I suggest you give her to me.”

“You're dating Sevika?” he asks, very clearly rattled but masking it, albeit terribly.

“I'm not-” you begin but Sevika interrupts once more.

"My whore, please," she says, sounding bored.

"Your whore?” The man who had been on the verge of slipping his hand between your thighs, stops almost abruptly. He watches Sevika with a mixture of confusion and thinly-veneered fear.

"Fucking, Move." She does not expect you to have her say it again. By now, you should have heeded her first command. Very quickly, actually. Very obediently

With your head tucked against your heavy chest.

The fact that you weren't listening to her had her hand aching to grab you by the neck and force the submission out of you.

"I don't really have to do what you say." You cross your arms over your chest, turning your head petulantly. She hated it. She hated how much she fucking loved it.

You lean forward. Not sure where this confidence came from but praying it doesn't abandon you. Confidence is all you have in her presence. Without it, you're defenseless. And Sevika is a shark. She'll smell your weakness and it'll arouse her.

She places her hand on the table, and rests that menacing mechanical weapon there, too. The glasses rattle. She looks dead at you as she says, "If you don't get up right this second, I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill everyone at this table.” By now, the hand that had been inching along your thigh is gone. Almost everyone around you has made a clear point to distance themselves, like you caught some weird disease named Sevika. One that you just could not shake. It pisses you off.

“You're bluffing.” You say.

“Am I?”

She does something.

Something that makes that new mechanical arm of hers steam and hiss like it's begging to be used. The blood drains from not only your face, but from the faces of every patron at the table. The vibe has been ruined. It lay in rubble at Sevika’s feet. ‘She-She's all yours,” your client all but pushes you away from their booth, right into Sevika's good arm.

“Seriously!?”

Her hand immediately wrestles into your hair, pulling your hair tie out while letting your braids rush down.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” She places her hand, warm and fucking menacing, right behind your neck as she steers you to the central stairs. Your eyes are wild and pleading as you attempt to make eye contact with anyone brave enough to save you and stand up to her. All eyes immediately flit away from you, leaving you stranded. You might as well be wearing one long leash, being dragged across the dirty bar floor on all fours as you followed your master wherever she pleased.

You can feel the entire table, probably the entire bar watching you make your humiliating ascension on the wooden staircase. You knew where she was taking you. One of the many doors on the second floor that were left unchartered by normal patrons.

“You're brave,” Sevika's mouth reaches the top of your head and you have to crane your head back at her, “I'll give you that.”

“Vika- I-”

“Oh it's ‘Vika now?” Her voice sounds playful, but behind the bangs falling over her lifeless eyes, her face is stone.

“P-Please,” you stop outside a wooden door. You're not sure what you're whimpering for, probably a sliver of mercy.

Mercy you knew she wasn't in the business of giving. Something like her couldn't give mercy.

“I fucking love to hear you beg,” she groans, before pushing you into the darkened room.

“You should've led with that,” The second you enter the cold, damp room, your back is pressed against the hard wood with a firm, large grip cutting off your oxygen. You're clawing desperately at her fingers, thinking, this is it. She's come to finally kill you. Somehow you always knew you would die at her hands. Whether it's while she's strumming you to a mind-numbing orgasm. You knew she'd end you.

“Who told you to continue selling what's mine?” There is no air, and your vision is collecting black spots. Vika forces you to gaze upon her, that deep frown forever plastered on her face and that incredibly flattering haircut. The fight in you is dying. “You don't get to go anywhere. You don't get to pass out on me, little girl, were just getting started-”

In a splitting, heavenly moment, right when you're about to crash, she unlocks her fist, bringing the air rushing back into your lungs. “Who the fuck said you could just go back to your day job like you don't belong to me?” Her hand, restless and angry slips from your throat, down to your chest. You're not wearing a bra, standard uniform for someone in your sordid line of work. It makes her anger heighten and you wince as she twists your nipples through the thin fabric of your ridiculously tight top. Her eyes rove over every curvy contour, your soft, protruding stomach, and your exposed thighs. “My body is the way I make money, Sev-” a gasp so furious wrenches itself from your throat as Sevika wastes no time pushing her thigh against your legs. She's so tall, you worry for a second as your feet lift slightly off the floor and you're made to straddle her thigh.

Sevika's mechanical arm does away with your top as if it's nothing.

Soon, the clumsy, cheap material lay in pieces on the ground. She does the very same with your skirt. The arm has teeth. Teeth that rip at fabric so easily you fear it might get hungry and bite out a chunk of your skin. But Sevika controls it well. And now you’re completely naked with only a string of cultural beads hanging from your waist. Your chest is completely exposed to her hungry eyes.

She can't take her eyes off them. Your heavy breasts and darkened nipples have her pushing her leg further between your thighs, urging you to ride her.

Despite your soft yet heavy curves she handled you like you were nothing.

“I shouldnt even fucking touch you,” she spits, despite her hand very hungrily squeezing your tit. “You make me fucking sick.”

“So why touch me then?” That tone was back. Sevika cranes your head back with a firm but oppressive grip on your cheek. Your smile is manic, teeth dripping with saliva as you spread your legs for her thigh. Immediately bucking your hips against her.

“If I'm such a filthy fucking whore, why waste your time on me, huh? You that obsessed with me Sev-”

A slap, so hot and scalding bloom across your cheek, tears sting your eyes. You rear your head back, eyes flooded with shock and gratitude because thank God she hadn't used her other arm.

All you see is death in her eyes. The air is quiet as you both contemplate her slap.

“F-Fuck-” the moan oozes out of you until you're slowly starting to rut against her leg once more. She's outrageously intrigued to find you more turned on than you had been a second ago. Her stoney visage cracks at the way your hips move hurriedly against her thigh, she could feel a damp spot forming.

“Being a brat makes you more insatiable than you usually are,” her voice is thick with unmistakable lust. "You’re fucking my thigh- shit-”

Your eyes are rolled back as you focus on humping against her like the insatiable little puppy you were made to feel like, “M'not a brat ‘Vika,” she loved the way you groaned. The way you're trembling little arms move up to secure themselves around her thick shoulders as you use her to milk your own pleasure.

“So just a bitch then?” She asks, panting, as she bends down until your lips are inches apart. She nips at your pouting bottom lip and she doesn't miss the way the word ‘bitch’ has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You nod dumbly, so far gone, “Oh, you are a worthless little bitch huh?” Your hips stutter as a particular wave of pleasure has you humping her faster. “Look at you, you're fucking drenched and you expect me to share you?”

“M-My body is the way I make money.” You repeat. Too far gone to realize your slurring words have become incoherent. “Y-You can't monopolize on that-”

“You're mine-” a smile, evil and lascivious curls at her lips and you immediately lean forward to kiss them but her hand slithers up to keep your neck at bay. “-And you’re gonna cum soon- look at how fucking bad you want it,” She digs her hands into your braids forcing your head downwards. You're forced to watch your hips buck against her thigh. You immediately tweak your own nipples as your orgasm crests. “Shit- Sev, Fuck I'm gonna-”

“Watch that fucking tone..."

“I’m gonna cum- please hit me agai-” the second her palm contacts your skin, she's kissing against your cheek where the pain blooms. You come undone.

“F-Fuck, oh my God.” you ride her thigh like a bitch in heat and somehow Sevika feels accomplished when you use her like this, she feels like she might just cum watching you slip into your own orgasm and it drives her nuts.

Her fist slams against the wall at the side of your head as your hips stutter over your thigh, her breath is warm at your ear. “Fuck-” she hates the way she nearly cums from watching you alone. She hates the thought of anyone else easing this reaction out of you. They wouldn't know how to work your body like she does. They wouldn't know how to get you compliant like she can. And as you're high on the clouds of your orgasm, Sevika clamps a thick metal band around your neck. Aftershocks have your speech slurred and your eyes heavy.

“Wha- what's this? Sev, what the fuck is this-”

“My gift.” she kisses the side of your head, having yet to move her leg between yours.

You swallow thickly as a very real fear sets in.

“A fucking collar?! Sev-”

She kisses away your protests.

[caparrucia]

Full offense and pun fully intended, but I genuinely think the very existence of "dead dove, do not eat" was a fucking canary in the mines, and no one really paid attention.

Because the tag itself was created as a response to a fandom-wide tendency to disregard warnings and assume tagging was exaggerated. And then the same fucking idiots reading those tags describing things they found upsetting or disturbing or just not to their taste would STILL click into the stories and give the writer's grief about it.

And as a response writers began using the tag to signal "no, really, I MEAN the tags!"

But like.

If you really think about it, that's a solution to a different problem. The solution to "I know you tagged your story appropriately but I chose to disregard the tags and warnings by reading it anyway, even though I knew it would upset me, so now I'm upset and making it your problem" is frankly a block, a ban and wide-spread blacklisting. But fandom as a whole is fucking awful at handling bad faith, insidious arguments that appeal to community inclusion and weaponize the fact most people participating in fandom want to share the space with others, as opposed to hurting people.

So instead of upfront ridiculing this kind of maladaptive attempt to foster one's own emotional self-regulation onto random strangers on the internet, fandom compromised and came up with a redundant tag in a good faith attempt to address an imaginary nuance.

There is no nuance to this.

A writer's job is to tag their work correctly. It's not to tag it exhaustively. It's not even to tag it extensively. A writer's sole obligation, as far as AO3 and arguably fandom spaces are concerned, is to make damn sure that the tags they put on their story actually match whatever is going on in that story.

That's it.

That's all.

"But what if I don't want to read X?" Well, you don't read fic that's tagged X.

"But what if I read something that wasn't tagged X?" Well, that's very unfortunate for you, but if it is genuinely that upsetting, you have a responsibility to yourself to only browse things explicitly tagged to not include X.

"But that's not a lot of fic!" Hi, you must be new here, yes, welcome to fandom. Most of our spaces are built explicitly as a reaction to There's Not Enough Of The Thing I Want, both in canon and fandom.

"But there are things on the internet that I don't like!" Yeah, and they are also out there, offline. And, here's the thing, things existing even though we personally dislike or even hate or even flat out find offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable existing is the price we pay to secure our right to exist as individuals and creators, regardless of who finds US personally unpleasant, hateful or flat out offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable.

"But what about [illegal thing]?!" So the thing itself is illegal, because the thing itself has been deemed harmful. But your goddamn cop-poisoned authoritarian little heart needs to learn that sometimes things are illegal that aren't harmful, and defaulting to "but illegal!" is a surefire way to end up on the wrong side of the fascism pop quiz. You're not a figure of authority and the more you demand to control and exercise authority by command, rather than leadership, the less impressive you seem. You know how you make actual, genuine change in a community? You center harm and argue in good faith to find accommodations and spread awareness of real, actual problems.

But let's play your game. Let's pretend we're all brainwashed cop-abiding little cogs that do not own a single working brain cell to exercise critical thinking with. 99% of the time, when you cry about any given thing "being illegal!!!" you're correct only so far as the THING itself being illegal. The act or object is illegal. Depiction of it is not. You know why, dipshit? Because if depiction of the thing were illegal, you wouldn't be able to talk about it. You wouldn't be able to educate about it. You wouldn't be able to reexamine and discuss and understand the thing, how and why and where it happens and how to prevent it. And yeah, depiction being legal opens the door for people to make depictions that are in bad taste or probably not appropriate. Sure. But that's the price we pay, creating tools to demystify some of the most horrific things in the world and support the people who've survived them. The net good of those tools existing outweighs the harm of people misusing them.

"You're defending the indefensible!" No, you're clumsily stumbling into a conversation that's been going on for centuries, with your elementary school understanding of morality and your bone-deep police state rot filtering your perception of reality, and insisting you figured it out and everyone else at the table is an idiot for not agreeing with you. Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down and read a goddamn book.

[writerunnamed]

note: This is something I've wanted to write for a while but I am well aware that not everyone will be into it. There are a few stories I want to tell that aren't the norm so I decided to start this nameless blog to tell them. I am not tagging anyone, if you find it then you find it. xo Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, Joel spits on the 😸, boobie play, really inappropriate dirty talk, an unused sex toy [will make an appearance in another chapter], female masturbation, daddy kink, unfit parent) 5.6k word count masterlist • series masterlist • part 2

He takes up so much space, and it wasn’t just physically. He took up space emotionally, mentally. Mentally most of all. Your thoughts always drifted back to him. Cyclical. An elliptical pattern making him the top of every list you’d go through in your head. He seemed to know it too, in a stoic, quiet, largely unsettling way. Older, attractive men tended to do that. 

It started during that in-between time, when summer, losing your job, and having to move back home pushed you to figure out what the fuck you actually wanted to do with your life seemed to come together like the planets aligning. The precipice of a turning point, a ticking clock counting down the days until your childhood bedroom would be turned into a gym, or an office, or a guest bedroom. The lukewarm welcome from your mother would ice over and you’d really have to get your shit together. 

Your mother was what people who didn’t know her would call ‘a free spirit’, what you called her, was a fucking mess. 

Your earliest memories consist of having to remind her to buy milk or to pay the bill because the electricity had turned off while watching cartoons in front of the tiny, living room tv. You’d had to remind her, in not so many words, that she was the mother, and you were the child. 

To your friends, she was the cool mom. The party mom. Your house was the place to be because she didn’t ask questions, she left her cigarettes unattended and didn’t mind if a few went missing. She kept the bar cart stocked, even if there was nothing but flies in the cupboard and nothing but half-empty condiment bottles in the fridge. Your friends loved it. 

She flirted with the boys your age, she gave sex tips to the girls. 

You smiled when they congratulated you on having the cool mom, and when they all went home, you retreated and pretended to be happy. 

Joel settled her down. Met her in a bar and moved in quick. He came into the picture when you were fifteen and you were almost sure he’d be just like the rest of the lovers she’d taken over the years. You’d given the whole thing six months. Half a year for him to see what a fucking disaster she was. Six months to be a fucking creep, to cheat or get cheated on. 

The only differences you could clock at first were that he was self-employed, and marginally better looking than his predecessors.

He was firmer though, less malleable than the others she’d brought around, he seemed immune to her charms and that only inflamed her. It made her desperate for his approval and his attention. She would throw a tantrum, or play one of her mind games but he’d never rise to her bait. He was patient for the most part, until he hit his breaking point and his temper reared its head. A temper only she seemed to bring out in him. 

To you, it was pathetic. 

He didn’t try with you though, there was no flattery or strong hand, only a silent respect. In a sense, he treated you as the adult, and her as the child. It worked for you, if he’d expected you to call him dad he would have been laughed at mercilessly and he seemed to know this. 

The disturbing part was his respect and his healthy avoidance of you worked its own kind of magic. It made him an enigma, made you curious as to what he got out of the whole thing. A home, sure. A woman who was obsessed with him, yes. Sex–yes. You heard it enough for it to turn your stomach. By the sounds of it, he knew what he was doing.

The thought sickened the healthy part of your brain. The other part though, the part flooding your body with hormones, making it come to life with curiously intense sexual feelings, that part wanted to know what it was he was so good at. How could he pull those sounds out of anyone? It was easier to imagine him with some faceless woman. 

It was shameful to imagine yourself. 

The thought–although enough to fuel a desperate journey of self-exploration–always filled you with an insurmountable guilt. 

For those first few years you could barely look at him. Your mother took it as a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. That only aggravated you more. She never asked questions, never dug to see what the cause of your obvious distaste for her partner was about and so again, you retreated. He, however, kept to the outs of your path. He followed your lead, he let you control any and every part of all of your interactions. He didn’t ask questions. He kept the lights on. He kept the fridge full. 

He burrowed his way in, whether you liked it or not. 

When you turned eighteen, you moved out. He helped, did his ‘fatherly’ duties and moved you into the apartment, he urged your mother to take you on an extensive grocery trip, spoke to your landlord about the safety of the building. You supposed you should have been grateful, you should have said thank you, given him some sort of acknowledgement that you appreciated his help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you said your mumbling goodbyes, and promptly closed the door on them. Neither of them complained. 

The euphoria of venturing out on your own had lost its shine depressingly quick. A string of chronically unserious boyfriends came and went, the rent climbed higher than you could keep up with, and while already living paycheck to paycheck, you lost your job. Your cellphone had taken the brunt of your frustration at having to call your mother, begging her to let you come back home while you got back on your feet a little more than two years after you’d left. 

Your teeth gnawed at your lips, your fingernails dug into the skin around your cuticles in the attempt to keep your voice sweet and pleading, in the end it was his voice that you’d heard in the background, telling–no, commanding her to say yes. That he would be your champion twisted at your insides. Maybe a small, healthy part of you hoped he’d put up a fight, tell you that you were too old to be coming back home and that you had to figure it out on your own like an adult. 

A healthy part of you hoped that he’d save you again, only from yourself. Hanging up with a heavy, resigned sigh, you set about starting the trek home, ignoring the swirling mess of annoyance, confusion, and perverse glee in your stomach. 

-

The first few days were spent in a depressive episode, a seemingly inescapable loop of sleeping in late, leaving your room only when the house was empty to raid the kitchen for something to eat, scrolling mindlessly–blindly–on your phone and then staying up way too late only to do it all over again. 

They didn’t bother you, but if the annoyed sighs and narrowed eyes from your mother were anything to go by, the talk was coming soon. After the third day of the cycle, you circumvent it and wake up early-ish to shower and dress in something other than ratty old sweats long forgotten by an ex you couldn’t quite remember. 

You came down to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes tracked the lines of you, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

Your heart leapt. He should have been at work by now. 

“Good morning.” It came out croaky, your voice almost reluctant to come out. 

“Mornin’.” His hair was slicked back, the gray almost sparkling in the golden light. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His eyes were so intense, you found yourself stuck in place, like a deer in headlights and that ever present, deep-seeded anger reared its head. It was irrational that he should frustrate you so much with his calm presence. 

“Coffee’s fresh, if you want some.” He jut his chin out to the pot, lowering his eyes to his paper once more. Once his gaze had shifted, you found you could breathe again. You mumbled a thanks and moved to pour yourself a cup, thankful, if unsure why, to focus on something concrete instead of abstract self-reflection.

“Your mama’s gon’ be late tonight. I thought I could pick up a pizza on the way home.” He says it offhand and again, your heart races. 

“Whatever.” You scrunch your face up in annoyance, it sounded like such a bullshit, teen response. He doesn’t comment on it, and that somehow makes it worse. You beat yourself about it as you root around in the fridge for the milk. The cereal you liked was in the top cupboard, and you’re not quite tall enough to reach it. 

You heard his chair scoot back and then suddenly he’s there, beside you, pressed up tight. You follow the long line of his throat as he stares up, reaching the box with ease while one big, warm hand lands on your lower back. He smells like the laundry detergent your mother insists on buying mixed with something else. Manly, smoky, with coffee laced through. Your cunt clenches nonconsensually as he stands there and stares down at you, his whole front pressed against your side, his hand still holding your lower back. Your mouth hangs open, stupidly, and he raises an eyebrow again forcing something to kickstart deep in your gut. 

“You okay there babygirl?” The endearment feels unwholesome.

It triggers something strange, strengthening the underlying conflict for him. There’s a lilt in his tone you don’t like, maybe because deep down you like it too much. Maybe you don’t want to admit that, or analyze anything about what the fuck is happening in your body. In your psyche. 

“Yeah.” You step out of his bubble, barely managing not to trip over yourself in your haste to get away and put a healthy distance between you. 

“Yes. Thank you.” You take a deep breath, pressing your lips together tight in what you hope to God is a neutral expression. 

He lets out a bemused huff through his nose, a mischief in his eyes shining out at you that you’ve never seen directed at you. You’ve seen it used on your mom. You’ve seen her go giggly and flirty whenever he looked at her like that. A half-formed escape plan starts to form but he saves you from the need, he puts his things in the dishwasher, and nods his head in goodbye. 

You practically hold your breath until you hear his truck rumble out of the driveway, and down the street. 

-

You manage to avoid him for a few days, staying out late catching up with friends, or feigning a need for rest. You’ve convinced your mother that your days are now spent job hunting, and for the most part they are. You leave in the morning, avoiding any and all contact and you get home late, creeping up the stairs much like you did in your teens even though you’d really never needed to. Your mother never enforced a curfew, and when Joel joined the picture, he didn’t pry. 

The luck didn’t last though, you got over-confident. He was sprawled out on the sofa, up uncharacteristically late one night when you padded through the house. 

“You’re up late.” You quickly check the accusatory tone, “Don’t you have to get up early?” Better, it comes out more concerned than annoyed and he nods. He wore a threadbare t-shirt, the fabric of it having been through the wash too many times to keep its shape. Light, gray sweats were stretched almost obscenely tight over his spread thighs, pooling at his crotch from being shoved up by the couch. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Come sit, we can watch some tv.” He pats the seat next to him and despite the deep desire to retreat into the Joel-free haven of your bedroom, you cannot seem to disobey him. 

You settle beside him on the couch, a little further away than was necessary. He chuckles softly. 

“I ain’t gonna bite you, girl. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

You pretend you don’t hear it, choosing instead to compartmentalize whatever game he’s playing and stare at the screen. He flips through the channels, settling on one thing for a few minutes before moving to something else until he finds a movie that’s already close to midway. There’s an electricity in the air, something about him galvanizing the space between you, charging it enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end. You frown to yourself, barely paying attention while fighting an increasingly confusing mental battle. Why is it so hard to be around him? Why does he inspire such scorn? Is it scorn at all?

You rub at your eyes, scrubbing your hands down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe the slate clean. 

He’s just a man, a man your mother had chosen and for better or worse they seem to work. She is happy with him and he is seemingly happy with her, why then is it so hard to accept him for what he is? Something slithers around in your brain, something that laughs darkly, something pulsing through the network of thoughts and ideas that threatens to crack open your subconscious and throw it right in your face. 

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” You pull your hands away from your face to see a very explicit scene playing out on the screen. Heat floods every inch of your body. 

“Almost looks like she’s enjoyin’ herself.” He leaves it on, and you feel stuck, your body betraying you yet again to see the way the woman on screen moans wantonly while under a very handsome man. You let out a non-committal sound, teetering on the edge of madness. You scold yourself, you are an adult, an adult that has had sex before and this isn’t even real. 

“Looks like fake bullshit to me.” The strength in your voice lends credence to the illusion that you aren’t affected. He laughs, calm and completely at ease and that only pulls the anger to the forefront again. 

“They can’t show the real stuff on these channels. If it were real, he’d be doin’ what she needs.” 

“And what’s that?” It comes out before you can stop it. 

“Well,” He smiles to himself, winning a duel you hadn’t even known you were fighting. 

“If it were real, he’d be pressin’ on her clit, he’d be makin’ sure she felt every inch of him and make her take his cock like a good girl.” You let out a heavy breath, half shocked, half grateful it wasn’t a whimper. 

Warning bells go off in your head, just as a heartbeat starts in your cunt because you can see it. You can see him. His face twisted up in pleasure but cocky, his hips moving, his thumb dipped into your mouth and then swirling around your clit. He smiles at catching you looking at his hands and you want to yell at him. You want to smack him across the face and kick him in the balls for saying something like that to you, his partner's daughter, but you don’t. 

Your body almost catapults you out of your seat. Barely unintelligible words come out, something about needing sleep, about being tired and then you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell. 

The shower was cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your core and it was with a terrifying desperation that you ground against your fingers. The slick pooling at the mouth of your pussy was enough to feel even with the water washing everything away except your shame. 

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning out the taboo and entirely inappropriate name you were dying to say out loud. His firm thighs spread on that couch filled your mind, the calloused, work-roughened hands you could practically feel on your hips, on your thighs. You could feel them holding and spreading your legs open so he could make you make those same noises you’d heard over the years. Make you take it like a good girl, his good girl. 

You came with a shudder, sagging against the chilly tile. You warmed the water with a sigh, disappointed and ashamed with yourself, trying, and failing, to put the whole thing out of your mind. 

-

You doubled down on avoiding him after that. 

Your mother worked most of the time but when she was home, things were easier. He reverted to the healthy avoidance, the proverbial disinterest that she didn’t seem to have a problem with. You still heard them some nights, the bed creaking, throaty cries, deep grunts but now they haunted you in a different way. Now you heard his words on that couch and couldn’t help but picture all manner of unsavory things that both disgusted and thrilled you. 

Being unemployed didn’t help. There was nothing to keep you out of the house most of the day, and there were only so many places that would accept you looking for a job in person. 

There was only so much time you could spend with friends too, they had their own lives and jobs and relationships. Too busy to save you from unwanted free time. 

Old habits resurface, and you retreat within yourself while pushing yourself harder. A job would fix things enough to help, you could save up enough money to leave for good and take yourself out of the equation. 

-

The powers that be momentarily take pity on you, and after what seems like a lifetime's worth of job hunting you blessedly get a call back. It’s a part time job, but at this point beggars can’t exactly be choosers. It’s a steady, if insufficient source of income that hadn’t been available to you before. Determined, you buckle down, you channel every guidance counselor you’ve ever had and ace the fuck out of that interview.

It’s not taxing work, but you put your head down and focus with the hope that if you worked hard enough, if you made a good enough impression, made yourself indispensable they’d throw you enough shifts to make up a full time job. 

It helps. Time spent away from the house, from your mothers dried up welcome, from Joel altogether genuinely helps. You feel a bit lighter, less guilty, less prone to imagine the unimaginable. You find comfort in the absence of self-imposed temptation. There is peace in the mindless work, in the life outside of the house that no longer feels like a home. 

It's a double edged sword though, because at the end of every shift, the luck–the peace–runs out. If being at work and out of the house is a respite, returning home only thickens the tension. Time spent outside the house only sharpens the discomfort, clarifies the glaring wrongness of it all when you enter it at the end of the day. What it all is, you won’t name. That way madness lies. Issue is, with every interaction, with every chance encounter in the hallway, or living room, every second spent with him in the kitchen watching his lips touch the rim of his mug the thing inside grows. Parts of him fill the corners of your mind. The curve of his shoulders filling out the flannel shirts he favors. The fullness of his bottom lip when he purses them, something he does while squinting at the paper that you’re almost sure he isn’t aware of. His neck, his hands, the dimple in his cheek when he laughs at something really funny. 

These things jump out, innocent as they may be, but other not so innocent things start to creep in. The bulge in his jeans is a mental mine, it lies in wait and every so often when you think you’ve avoided it, it detonates and you catch yourself staring, both ashamed and so inappropriately curious it eats away at you like acid. 

What you needed was something to fill the emptiness, both emotionally and physically. So you did what any modern, adult woman would do; you bought a sex toy. 

Nothing too crazy, or expensive. After perusing the site for a while you finally settled on a plain, non-threatening dildo. Nothing too big, nothing noisy, just something to be able to focus on, something to use while imagining someone giving you what you need. You ignored that dark thing inside that hissed his name, shooed it away and ordered the package for express delivery. With your mom constantly working, and Joel keeping to himself you figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would question a package addressed to you. 

You still aren’t sure whether or not you’d do it all over again had you known the Pandora’s box that little package would open. 

You all but rushed home after work. All day, you’d imagined the relief that toy would bring. You imagined yourself using it in the shower, steam swirling as you took your pleasure. You imagined yourself laying in bed in the safety of the dark, setting a towel down on your chair and riding it to your heart's content. 

Joel’s truck is in the driveway when you pull in, but it’s secondary to the excitement at the chance to sequester yourself with your new best friend and so when you walk into the house, you don’t give him much attention. Until he opens his mouth. 

“You got a package today babygirl. I put it on your bed.” He sits on his spot on the sofa, a funny little smile on his face. A bad feeling swells in your chest, and you look up the stairs before meeting his eyes again. 

“Thanks.” You drop your bag on the little bench near the front door, trying, and failing to keep the nervous feeling out of your voice. He nods, and you make your way up, stopping yourself from taking the stairs two at a time. 

Ice flows through your veins when you see the package is open. 

He’d opened your package, he knew what you’d bought. 

Blood pounds in your ears as you stand there, limbs cold and numb at the realization that he saw it. He saw it. He opened it, and he placed it here, on the very place you fantasized about using it. Sweat beaded on your brow, the bottom of your stomach fell out of your ass as you stood there, barely feeling the soft, worn carpet under your feet. 

“Little small, f’you ask me.” His voice at the mouth of your room made your head twist fast enough to hurt your neck. You hadn’t heard him follow you up the stairs, hadn’t heard him open your door and lean against the frame, arms crossed in haughty amusement. 

“Why would you open my package?” You clutched at it, as though he could forget what he’d seen if you held it tightly enough. 

“I didn’t open it on purpose, I’m expectin’ somethin’ and I didn’t read the name.” He pushes away from the door frame, making his way closer and it’s like the air thins as the space between you shrinks.

“I mean, I could tell you been frustrated, but this doesn’t seem like it’s gon’ help much.” He reaches out, and takes the package from you. You watch him do it, watch him, frozen as he plucks it from your hands and takes the toy out. 

“This all you can take?” He holds it, contemptuously–pityingly. 

You wanted to snatch it out of his hands, the dimming voice of reason urges you to push him out of your room and remind him that he needs to keep a healthy distance but you say nothing, you stand there, and watch him. He puts it all down on your dresser, before stepping a little closer, close enough for you to have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes. 

“No boyfriends around to give you what you want?” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers sliding across the apple of your cheek, slipping down until his thumb pressed against the cushion of your bottom lip. 

“No one around to give you what you obviously need?” He steps a little closer, until your bodies meet. This is wrong, your mind screams it but your body is frozen under his eyes, under his touch. That part, the frozen part is cheering, it’s running victory laps as it floods your cunt with slick in preparation for something unholy. 

That same, writhing, traitorous thing whispers that this is your chance, the house is empty and your body obeys. You look your fill, you take in the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brow. His eyes are black as a crow's wing, lust-blown and completely focused on your parted lips and your shallow panting. 

Adrenaline spikes and you do something you cannot take back. You rise on your tip-toes and press your mouth to his. 

He hums into it, smiling and once again you get that feeling that you’d made the exact move he’d expected you to. A vague, but fleeting inkling that you were just a pawn on his chessboard. 

At any other time you would have stepped away and repented, ate yourself alive with guilt but his hands pulled you closer, his tongue swiped at the seam of your mouth and you opened up for him. That only made it all the more real, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, feeling his hands lower to hold onto your ass. 

The rational part of you shrinks down to nothing, and that other part, the wrong part–it swells and preens under his hands. He pulls away, and embarrassingly, you chase his mouth in a daze. 

“Oh honey, you’re just dyin’ for it aren’t you?” He herds you towards your tiny bed, the twin mattress that has been the stage for every taboo fantasy about this man, your stepfather. You shoo the word away with a shiver. 

“It’s wrong-” You almost whisper, but you don’t push him away, you let him lay you down in that bed and he laughs. 

“It is, isn't it?” He pulls at the hem of your shirt, you raise your arms for him and the picture of it is wrong, daddy taking off your clothes. The thought, the word,  should disgust you but it only pulls your hands to him. You join in, and pull his shirt up and off, biting your lip at the broadness of him. You take in each freckle, the sprinkling of hair on his chest, the dip of his throat calling out for your tongue like a siren. 

He presses his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth obscenely. Unseemly. 

“You been wantin’ this for a long time, haven’t you babygirl?” He pulls your bra off, and the shock of cold air hardens your nipples. He bites his lip to see it, unable to stop himself from flattening his tongue against a hardened bud. A sound you’ve never let yourself make out loud in this room fills the space between you and that slithering thing luxuriates. 

He moves, languidly, unhurried to the other breast and holds the plump of it in his big hand and sucks at the second bud, sucks as much of the peak as he can into his mouth, breathing through his nose while you slowly spiral into madness.

When he lets go, he presses a kiss to your nipple and his facial hair tickles your skin. 

He pulls your leggings off along with your underwear in one go and the reality of it all hits you when the air hits your soaked core. That’s when the urge to put a stop to it is the clearest, when he kneels between your legs and spreads them wide, stares at the place where he’s already filled a million times in your mind. The place that’s drenched at the mere thought of him. 

“Joel-” You start, but he pushes your legs up, folding you and then he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth slowly, aiming it, a bullseye right on the lips of your cunt. It’s too much, too filthy and you let out a whimper. 

“I think you wanna call me somethin’ else right now.” He undoes his belt and his jeans, keeping his eyes on where his saliva slides down over the open mouth of your cunt, down towards your asshole. He pulls his cock out and part of you shatters. Your eyes flit to the toy sitting on your dresser, your eyes flit to the open door of your bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, your mama ain’t gonna be home for a while.” He smiles, conspiratorially. It's too real, it’s too hypnotic, seeing him there with his cock in his hand while your legs already ache from holding them up and open. He slides the blunt end of it through the mess he’s caused, through his spit and he groans at the sight of it. 

Your heart races so hard to feel him there, that you see the pulse of it in your vision. 

“Deep breath baby.” he warns before slipping inside the tight fist of your pussy, the size of him making you gasp. This is it, there’s no coming back from this and right now, with him seated deep, his groin pressed up tight and the tip of his cock kissing your womb you cannot even think of why you’d ever care.

This is where he's meant to be. This is where you need him. 

“Oh baby, that’s so good huh?” He thrusts shallowly, pulling out a little more than halfway before shoving his hips forward again. You don’t really know how to form words, you don’t know how to take in what’s happening. This is Joel, your step-dad, fucking you in the bed you grew up in. One hand sits heavy on your shin, holding it, the other slides up and holds onto your breast. 

“Look how fuckin’ wet this little pussy is for me,” he moans the words, “you like daddy fuckin’ you?” He thrusts harder and you moan despite the word hitting you in the stomach like a big drop on a rollercoaster. He shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t call himself that, not now. 

“No-” it doesn’t come out like you mean it to, it sounds wrong, like a caress. 

“No? But I think you do-” He leans forward, keeping his pace while pressing his chest to yours, his mouth all but lining up and despite your bullshit protest, you hitch your knees high on his ribs to make room because if he stopped you’d probably die. 

“I think you want me to be your daddy, don’t you baby, it’s okay, I want to be.” He speeds up and the sounds between your legs are so wet, so filthy. 

“You can say it, I want you to say it.” He holds himself up, his elbows caging in your skull and before you can complain or moan or cry he sticks his tongue down your throat again. Your hands finally join the fray and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight to you. 

“Come on baby, say it for me, tell me how good daddy fucks you.” You moan, closing your eyes while your cunt floods him with wave after wave of slick, enough to drip down your ass and onto your bed, down his balls. Enough for it to soak the curls at the base of him. 

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ you honey.” His hips speed up and it's hard now, his thrusts making your bounce, hitting a part of you that toy would never touch in a million years. 

You open your eyes, and look at him above you, sweat beading on his hairline. Never has he looked more fucking appealing than he does right then. The word is there, in your mouth and you know it’ll taste sweeter than anything in this world. 

The wrong thing wins.  

“Yes daddy.” You moan it, and the shameful thing sets off fireworks in your being, he smiles, and tucks his head into the damp crook of your neck, feeding his lovely filth right into your ear. 

“That’s my babygirl, that’s it, fuck baby you take it better than your mama.” Something inside recoils at that, but something else, another facet of that fucked up thing inside rejoices.

“Let me hear you say it again, say it when you come.” He licks a hot stripe up your neck. His words are a filthy groan, something to tuck away for later.

He reaches down, pressing his thumb to your clit just like he said on that couch and you keen, the slip and the pressure enough to toss you over the edge with an almost painfully intense orgasm. 

“I’m coming, daddy.” It’s a shuddering whisper as your cunt clenches around him. 

He moves quickly, kneeling between your legs to pull out and then he’s stroking himself over your cunt. It’s still pulsing when he paints it in his come. You catch your breath as he tugs at himself a few more times, milking himself against you with a disturbingly familiar groan. 

The fog clears altogether too quickly. The lights are too bright, you’re naked, and he’s still got his jeans around his thighs while the guilt creeps into your veins, replacing the euphoria. 

What have I done? What have you made me do?

[authorhjk1]

How would SNSD as your step sis go on a sex vacation with you?

Taeyeon

Taeyeon would take you skiing. But that's just an excuse. An excuse for the two of you to stay at a cosy cabin for a week, while you bend her over every surface you can find. She loves to watch the flames dance in the open fireplace, lying on her stomach, while you fuck her from behind, enjoying her tight pussy. The two of you barely leave the cabin. The only reason Taeyeon asked you to come with her on a trip is to make your creampie her as often as she can take it.

Jessica

"That's right, yes! Put a baby in your noona!"

You hold out as long as you can, until you finally cum deep inside of her. The words that left Jessica's mouth mere moments ago aren't just part of a normal breeding kink. She does have one, always telling you to cum inside and breed her, while the two of you are at home, hiding from your parents. But this is something different. Jessica chose this week for your vacation together on purpose. It's the time of the month were she is the most fertile. A couple of wonderful days, where you can finally breed your stepsister's pussy properly.

You just booked a hotel room across the city. Nothing much, since you won't be leaving it anyways. You've defiled the whole room by now.

"Come on, let me blow you real quick. Then, you can cum in me again."

Jessica gets off you, already thinking about her fifth creampie of the day. You glance at the clock; 10 am. You have a long, but wonderful day ahead of you.

Sunny

"What do you think?"

She proudly smiles at you, the Eiffel Tower in the background. You can't believe Sunny got you a hotel room from which you could directly see it.

"It's amazing."

"Don't I deserve a reward now?"

Her smile turns a little wider when you nod. You won't be leaving this room for a while. But at least you have a great view.

"Come on then."

Sunny opens the glass door behind her and steps out onto the balcony.

"I hope no one looks up."

Her joke leaves you worried for a moment. Worried that your parents might find out. Highly unlikely. Almost impossible. And yet, here you are afraid to get caught, while your stepsister is already opening your belt.

Tiffany

Your parents were surprised when Tiffany told them that she won a trip to the Caribbeans and you'd be her plus one. You doubt that is the truth, but you don't mind it all, if it means you get to have sex with your stepsister for two entire weeks. A small house at a secluded beach. The two of you are the only people there, no one else is around. You found out early that Tiffany's favorite place to fuck is the beach. On a towel, whatever position you can think of as long as it means you cum in her pussy.

Hyoyeon

Despite having moved out of their house for a while now, your parents still keep inviting you and your stepsister to go on vacation with them. This time they wanted to go hiking. Needless to say, you and Hyeoyeon have different plans. The two of you told them that you wanted to go separately, so you parents could spend more time together. But it is you and Hyeoyeon who don't want to be disturbed. Once you reach a big waterfall, you watch her strip, before she jumps into the pond.

"You coming?"

Her seductive smile inviting you to join her.

Yuri

Yuri was happy when your parents gave the two of you one room. Because that means that Yuri can pounce on you whatever chance she gets. Every night you fuck each other to sleep and you stay buried inside of her untile the next morning. After an amazing blowjob to wake you up, you join your parents for breakfast. It always seems like a normal vacation with your family, until you are alone witch Yuri. She likes it when you put her on all fours, make her face the beautiful ocean while you fuck her from behind.

Sooyoung

This is your first time going on vacation with your stepsister alone. You know why she wants to spend more time with you. The two of you have been sneaking around the house for weeks now, since the first time you had sex.

Sooyoung chose a nice hotel somewhere in Europe. Far away from your parents and a great place for the two of you to finally fuck undisturbed.

But your eyes widen in surprise, when you watch Sooyoung lift her dress in the elevator, after the two of you just checked in.

"What is that?"

Sooyoung bites her lip as she shows off her ass, before she steps closer, a mischievous smirk on her lips.

"I didn't take you on vacation to just have sex with you."

She kisses your lips, before she continues.

"We are here so you can finally use all three of my holes."

Yoona

Your heart beats faster and faster as you reach the end of the ceremony. After years and years of hiding each other's love from others, this is the day you make it official. Only the two of you. At a beach far away from your parents. Somewhere on Hawaii.

"You may now kiss the bride."

You turn to your stepsister. Yoona looks like the most beautiful woman on earth in her wedding dress. As your lips meet and your eyes close, you know that you're in for a wild two week long honeymoon. Yoona won't let you leave her pussy for even a minute, until you arrive back in Korea.

Seohyun

"What if they see us?"

"They won't."

The two of you originally planned to go far far away for your little sex vacation. But Seohyun reminded you of the fact that you only have one week together. She doesn't want to waste your precious time for an hour long plane ride back and forth. So the two of you just drove an hour or two, until you found the vacation home you booked a week ago.

"We won't be wandering around much anyway, right?"

Seohyun is sitting in your lap, her lower half already naked. You feel your cock hardening inside of her, despite having filled her pussy barely two minutes ago.

"Right."

[uniquexusposts]

Her Driver, His Boss - C. Leclerc

Summary: After the Dutch Grand Prix, Verstappen invites his friends over to a bar in Amsterdam. Y/n, the new team principal of Ferrari, and Charles are attending the party and grow closer to each other durning the night.

Max Verstappen private: Are you almost there yet?

Y/n privé: Almost! Just getting out of the metro

When she heard the announcer say they've arrived at 'De Pijp' she stood up and waited for the metro to stop. Along with some F1 fans, who just came back from Zandvoort, she stepped out of the metro and took the escalator upstairs. She checked out with her debit card and walked out of the metro station. Luckily for Y/n, the fans didn't seem to recognize her. She was the team principal of Ferrari after all. While walking towards the bar where she was supposed to meet with Max, she looked around and took in the typical architecture of Amsterdam.

After a short walk, she saw the bar and made her way to the entrance. A man stood next to the door and he eyed her up and down. A slightly uncomfortable feeling washed over her and she tried to shake off the feeling. He had a drink in his hand and a cigarette in his other hand.

"Y/n?" he said.

"Yes?" she answered, slightly unsure. She didn't know how to respond correctly.

"Great, come on in," he told her and he laughed. "I just had to make sure that you aren't a fan."

Y/n smiled as well. This man was probably a bouncer that Max had hired to ensure no fans would disturb his night out after the race. She opened the door and stepped into a hallway and after opening the next door, she was welcomed with the music and the chatter from the people inside. Before she had the time to properly look around, a piercing scream filled her ears.

"Y/n!"

Many people looked at the entrance, to see Y/n looking like she wished the ground would swallow her up. Charles was one of those people who looked at her, the shout by Max' engineer, and Y/n's former colleague, GP pulled him out of his conversation with Pierre Gasly. He recognised his team principal and turned his head back to Pierre to finish his sentence. However, the image of Y/n in a dress, made him forget all the words and he had to look back at her.

There she stood, smiling widely and pointing at GP. She rolled her eyes, took off her blazer and made her way to him. Charles' eyes kept following her. This was the first time he saw her in a dress. The dress hugged her curves perfectly. The light green colour fitted her skin tone and her light coloured hair - which was now in a loose braid which resulted in an exposed neck. She had never looked like this before.

Pierre looked besides Charles and followed his eye sight to see who took Charles' attention. A smirk grew on Pierre's lips when he saw her. He looked back at Charles; a soft look glazed in his eyes. "Hello," Pierre said and punched Charles' shoulder.

"What the fuck," Charles mumbled and he glanced at Pierre.

"Are you going to finish your story or what?" Pierre grinned.

Charles rolled his eyes and punched Pierre back, he tried to remember the conversation they just had, so that he could continue the conversation.

On the other side of the room, Y/n had finally found her friend Max and they were having a gin and tonic together. The whole place was crowded with drivers, colleagues and other people who were important to Max. Y/n had to raise her voice at Max to make herself heard.

"Where did you find all these people?" Y/n asked with a smile on her face.

"Oh, most of them are paid actors," Max casually said and he took a sip of his cocktail.

Y/n shook her head. "Who is the most expensive?"

"You."

"When can I expect the payment?"

"You receive my love; that's enough," he replied. He wrapped his arm around Y/n's neck, bringing her closer to him, and kissed her cheek.

A laugh rolled over her lips and right at that moment, a photo was made of them. Gemma stepped towards the two friends and showed the picture on her phone.

"This is so cute!" Y/n yelled enthusiastically and looked at Max.

The corners of Max' mouth were about to curl up, but he straightened his face on purpose. "I've seen cuter photos of us before," he said and walked away, welcoming the next guest. While he walked away, he looked over his shoulder and smirked at Y/n and Gemma.

Gemma's jaw dropped and looked in disbelief at Y/n.

Y/n squeezed her eyebrows together and looked at Gemma while bursting into laughter. "What a fucking dickhead," she laughed.

"I..." Gemma looked perplexed. Y/n figured out that Gemma already had a few drinks in. "A huge dickhead, jeez man." She put her phone away and hugged Y/n tightly. "Where is your juichcape?"

"My what?"

"Juichcape? That orange cape with a lion on it? That thing you wore today before the race?"

"Ooo, yeah, Ferrari took it from me, party poopers," Y/n playfully smiled.

Gemma frowned. "That is ridiculous. I hope you will get it back and wear it at Monza."

A laugh rolled over Y/n's lips. "We will see."

As the evening progressed, the atmosphere in the bar grew livelier with each passing moment. Y/n found herself caught up in the whirlwind of conversations, laughter and the occasional clinking of glasses. At the beginning, she stayed with the same group; GP, Gemma and Max, who had a pitstop at the group every now and then. Later on, she bumped into familiar faces from the grid, moved through the crowd, exchanged greetings and engaged in light-hearted conversations. For a moment, she had forgotten that she was a team principal; she was just Y/n.

Y/n walked past the bar and kitchen to the toilets. There was peace - as far as possible. The banter was in the distance. Y/n washed her hands and looked in the mirror, the baby hairs around her skin started the curl up, to her annoyance. A sigh left her mouth and she tried to smoothen the hairs, but she realised it wouldn't do anything to her hair since water would only make it worse and without any product it wouldn't do anything. But whatever, she thought, she didn't have to look at it.

Her eyes shot up in the mirror when someone walked behind her. "Oh, hey," she smiled and turned around.

Charles stopped walking and looked over his shoulder. "Hey," he smiled.

"I didn't know you were here," she mentioned.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Small bar, but so many people."

Y/n chuckled and agreed with him. Charles stepped into the men's bathroom. Y/n turned back to the mirror and took a deep breath: 'I didn't know you were here', an enthusiastic move. Disappointedly, she put on some tinted lip balm and was about to go back when Charles stepped out of the bathroom.

"Max surely knows how to throw a party," Charles said and washed his hands. "Is it a party?" He looked at Y/n.

"It's a party, but I get what you mean," she replied. When someone said a party, she would think of a birthday party, but this was a casual party in a local, modern, typical bar in Amsterdam. "I like this bar, it's so typical Amsterdam." They weren't in an old brown bar, but more the modern version of it. If she remembered it correctly, it used to be a brewery.

He nodded and dried his hands. "It is surely different from Monaco," he agreed. "How do they do it in Denmark?"

"Monaco is fancy, huh?" A playful smile played on her lips. Charles rolled his eyes. "Copenhagen has the same vibes, but I like it more there." They walked back to the bar. "Have you ever been to Denmark?"

They were welcomed by a lot of noise again; people who were talking, laughing and some music.

"Do you have something to drink?" Charles asked, almost raising his voice. He didn't wait for an answer. "What do you want?"

Y/n read the menu above the bar. "I will take a Radler." Charles nodded and went to the bar to order a Radler for Y/n and a glass of white wine for himself. "Thanks," she smiled when Charles handed her the beer with lemonade. They moved through the people towards the back of the space.

"Sante," Charles said.

"Skål," Y/n said and clinked her glass against his.

He took a sip. "But I have never been to Denmark. I've been to Finland, though."

A chuckle left her mouth. "Yeah, but that's not Denmark. It's far from Denmark." She took another sip from her beer. "I've never been to Monaco, but I've been to France," she cheekily said and winked.

"But you have bee- oh, come on, Y/n. Don't be ridiculous."

"Don't call out the wrong counties."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by shared jokes and teasing. Even though they shared their love for racing, they didn't talk about it. They were interested in each other. Being in an unfamiliar, non motorsport area - besides being surrounded by people of motorsport, gave them the shot to get to know each other on a different level. Unnoticeably, Charles stepped closer to Y/n to hear her more properly. The music became louder, which caused everyone to raise their voice to make themselves understandable. Y/n leaned in to him when she shared her words and to listen to her words. Her arm touched his arm and he sometimes felt an electric shock through their arms. Y/n looked down when she felt her cheeks heating up, because she realised what was happening. She bit her lip and placed a lost piece of hair behind her ear.

"Hello."

Y/n looked up and Kevin Magnussen, her Danish friend on the grid, was standing in front of her and Charles. The shy look on her face changed to a confused, but surprised look. "Hej."

"I'm gonna steal her from you," Kevin informed Charles while smiling. His eyes shot from Charles to Y/n, who couldn't hide her blushes, Y/n followed Kevin to the bar, where they both ordered sparkling water. "How much did you drink?"

Y/n squinted her eyes and leaned against the bar. "Gin & Tonic and a Radler beer. Why? You? How did you even get here? Since when are you friends with Max?"

"Only a beer," he replied. "And Max invited Nico and Nico took me with him. Anyway, you're going to Denmark next week, right?"

"You know, Kevin, your conversation skills turned into detective skills," she mentioned. A smile curved on her lips. "But yes, after Monza."

"Do you have a free evering that week?" Before he let her say anything, he accepted her feedback by turning his question into a conversation. "Because next month is my birthday and you are busy so I was thinking of going out for dinner with Louise, some friends, and you to celebrate it ahead."

"Yes, that sounds amazing," she said. "Of course, I will be there."

A happy smile came on Kevin's face. "For how long will you be home?"

"The entire week, I'm working from home," she shared. "I have a few meetings in Copenhagen, management wise, a media training and a masterclass for students of the uni."

He nodded impressed. "Ready to leave it all behind for a week?"

"No, but if they fuck it up, they fuck it up," she shrugged. They both laughed. "I'm still working from home, though."

As Y/n and Kevin continued their conversation at the bar, Charles watched them from a distance, a twinge of jealousy tugging at his heart. He knew Kevin had a wife and children, and he knew that he was just friends with Y/n and that she knew his wife as well. But he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the interruption, wishing he could have more time alone with Y/n. Despite his initial jealousy, Charles felt happy for Y/n that she had a good friendship with Kevin. It was always a nice feeling to have someone in the same world that came from the same country. He had always been on her side.

The night was nearing, and many people decided to leave and the bar was about to close in twenty minutes. Just like Y/n and Charles, who happened to stay in the same hotel, so they decided to leave together - well, Charles insisted on leaving together since he didn't feel comfortable with Y/n walking back to the hotel on her own.

Y/n grabbed her blazer from the rack and was about to put it on, but a familiar tune entered her ear. She looked into the crowd, finding Gemma. Gemma looked up from her phone, looking for Y/n. A smile grew on Y/n's face and she looked at Charles, who raised his eyebrows by her glance. "Hold on," she said to Charles and pushed her blazer and purse into his hands. She made her way back into the crowd.

"I am unwritten. Can't read my mind," Gemma sang dramatically, singing along with Natasha Bedingfield's 90s hit song Unwritten.

A laugh left Y/n's mouth. "I'm undefined. I'm just beginning. The pen's in my hand. Ending unplanned," she sang along.

Gemma's eyes lit up as Y/n joined the duet. The surrounding crowd turned to watch as the two friends lost themselves in the moment, their laughter filling the air as they sang. As they reached the chorus, Gemma threw her arm around Y/n's shoulder and they began to jump.

"Feel the rain on your skin. No one else can feel it for you. Only you can let it in. No one else, no one else. Can speak the words on your lips. Drench yourself in words unspoken. Live your life. with arms wide open. Today is where your book begins. The rest is still unwritten."

For a brief moment, everything else faded away as they revelled in the simple pleasure of music and friendship. It was a happy moment for them, but it even made the others in the bar happy. The two women were enjoying life and the moment. And as the song came to an end, they hugged tightly, their smiles reflecting the pure happiness.

On the side, close to the exit, Charles was watching the two women. He adored Y/n's spontaneity and her happiness. With a smile on his face, he leant against a table and waited for her. During the song, his eyes scanned the people around them; Max was grinning and silently singing along, Kevin was sitting at the bar and was also singing along and many more people enjoyed the song. It was just a happy moment.

With a big smile on her face, Y/n walked back to Charles. "Sorry, I just needed to do that with Gemma," she said.

Charles held the blazer behind Y/n so he could help her with putting the blazer on. "No worries, enjoy the moment."

"Happiest three minutes of the night," she breathed.

They made eye contact with Max and he waved at them. Y/n waved at Kevin as well. Before the song came on, they said goodbye to everyone, so their wave was just a final goodbye for now. They stepped outside, facing the chill but stuffy weather. Charles put his hands in his pockets and got surprised when Y/n hooked her arm in his.

"I wish I had a bike right now," Y/n mentioned when she was looking at one of the twenty bikes in the street. "My feet are killing me."

He looked down at her feet; she was wearing heels, low heels. They looked comfortable to him. "I can book an Uber," he offered.

"Meh, that's not necessary," she replied. "As long as we do not get recognised, we can just walk." She looked around. "It's funny how some countries are bicycle counties and others are not."

"It's so weird to look around and see at least one bike here."

"I believe there are more bikes in The Netherlands than people."

Charles smirked, the random facts Y/n shared was precious. "How is that even possible?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "So... Are there more wheels or doors?"

He let go of her because there was an obstacle on the pavement. However, he hooked his fingers into hers and walked in front of her. "When seeing all these bikes... Wheels. What do you think?"

"Definitely wheels," she answered. "I don't know why, but wheels." When they could walk next to each other, Charles made sure Y/n was walking on the inside of him. Neither one of them let go of the other's hand. "Did you enjoy this evening?"

He nodded. "I did. You?"

"Good. And I did too. I enjoyed how casual it was, no fancy dancy talk, just casual talk," she replied.

"But Max and gin & tonics..."

Y/n stopped walking and did the move: Max was holding his hands in the air and his index fingers were pointed to the top, and then he would move them up and down. Charles did the same and they both started to laugh. "Such a dad move," she laughed.

Charles clapped his hands and couldn't stop laughing at the impression. "That is a classic Max move," he laughed.

"It's just sweet," she commented and smiled. However, it quickly faded away when she felt the irritated sensation around her feet. Those sandal heels looked cute, it was simple, elegant, chic, but a feet killer. They were mid heeled, not even that high, but that didn't matter. "You know what," she said and looked at Charles.

"Hmm, what?" Charles said, waiting for a serious answer since she had a stern look on her face.

"I am gonna take off these heels because I can't do this anymore," she revealed and grabbed Charles' arm for support. She took off her heels.

"Y/n, stop," he advised her sternly. "Don't do that."

"What? It's so fucking painful."

"Don't go barefoot, that's fucking disgusting."

"I would rather have dirty feet than painful feet."

"What about glass? Or... cigarettes. They will end up in your feet and then I have to bring you to the hospital for treatment," he told her and raised his eyebrows.

Y/n thought about it and nodded. "Uh, no. That will not happen," she convincingly smiled and stepped away from him, resuming her way to the hotel.

"Y/n," Charles warned her and wrapped his hand around her wrist. He pulled her back to him. He would not let her stubbornness get the best of her.

"Charles," Y/n copied his tone and stood in front of him, she was not amused.

Y/n's lips were set in a stubborn line while Charles wore a disapproving expression.

"You don't know what could be on the ground," he said, his grip on her wrist firm but gentle. "Let me call an Uber."

"The hotel is literally there," she replied and pointed at a building a kilometre away. She knew he was right, but calling an Uber for a short ride was not necessary. And many people lived barefoot. So what could happen to her? "I'll be careful."

Charles studied her for a moment, his gaze softening when he recognised the stubborn streak in her eyes. He knew he couldn't force her to do anything she didn't want to, but he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable either.

Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, each refusing to back down. They just stood there, somewhere in Amsterdam, grumbling about heels and the pavement. They were centimetres apart from each other. Charles felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him, the feeling became stronger after the incident in Silverstone. Y/n's gaze softened as she scanned his face, she could see the concern etched in his features, the worry lines that creased his forehead and she couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth in her chest.

Charles closed the remaining distance between them, his hand reaching up to her cheekbone. He stroked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked at her lips briefly. When he looked back into her eyes, he saw a sparkle. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a sweet kiss.

Time stood still as they savoured the sweetness of the moment. Y/n's heart fluttered in her chest as she melted into his touch, the sensation sending shivers down her spine. Her hands tenderly touched his chest. The kiss was soft, yet filled with desire, longing and a sense of belonging.

When they pulled away, Y/n leaned her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the night air. Her heart was racing. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, sending more shivers down her spine.

"Let me take you to the hotel," Charles whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of their hearts. "I don't want you to get hurt."

She lifted her head, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. "How?"

"Here, hold this," he said and handed over the purse he had been holding. "And jump on my back."

"Charles," she giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he smiled and turned around.

Y/n jumped on his back and wrapped one of her arms carefully around his neck. Charles put his hands around her legs and started to walk to the hotel. "You smell nice," she whispered. She wanted to make a comment about how men's cologne would stay on them for days and women's perfume for a second, but knew it was better to keep her mouth shut.

"Thank you," he softly chuckled. As he was walking, he felt a sense of peace wash over him, a feeling of contentment settling in his mind and heart.

As Charles carried Y/n on his back through the streets of Amsterdam, a sense of warmth enveloped them, cocooning them in their own little world. Y/n rested her head against his shoulder, her heart filled with gratitude for his caring gesture. She could feel the steady rhythm of his footsteps beneath her, each step bringing them closer to the hotel.

The hotel staff didn't look up when they entered the hotel. Charles made his way to the lift and Y/n pressed the button, calling the lift. There was silence between them when they stepped into the lift and made their way to the right floor. Charles walked to Y/n's room after she told him which number she had.

Charles gently lowered Y/n to her feet. Their eyes met and in that fleeting moment, a silent understanding passed between them. They shared a smile.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the hotel.

Charles smiled, his eyes reflecting the warmth of his heart. "Anytime," he replied softly. "Sleep well," he said, knowing it was the right decision to leave for now.

"Good night, Charles," she smiled satisfied and opened her room door. Before stepping inside, she turned around and quickly pecked his lips. Then, she entered her room and closed the door behind her.

When she walked to the bathroom, a smile was resting on her face. What a man could do... Y/n looked at herself in the mirror, she looked so stupid for smiling this big. What he could do... A soft giggle left her mouth and she shook her head.

What Charles could make her feel like... Wrong.

Y/n straightened her face and stared at herself. What she just did was wrong, very wrong. It shouldn't have happened. It was disgusting. Tears filled her eyes, she was disappointed in herself.

She was his boss.

He was her driver.

"Fuck."

Read the full story here.

[emthimofnight]

would the three failed siblings have different personalities if they were raised by sonic and shadow?, and if so what would their personalities be?

Oh, for sure! Being raised in a positive environment where they aren't pitted against one another would really bring out their best traits. 😁

Void

Eldest brother

Still has low empathy, but is better at relating to others and putting himself in their shoes.

Very logical. Thinks things through far more than his siblings. That being said, he is extremely impulsive when emotional.

The most morally gray out of his siblings, but is still considered a "hero". Shadow worries he is only playing the hero role because it gives him an excuse to fight.

... He really does like fighting.

Definitely the one to suggest murder before anyone else.

Bumps heads with Shadow. Shadow sees a lot of the things he doesn't like about himself in Void, and projects a lot of his personal baggage onto him.

Closer to Sonic, finds his presence to be calming and enjoyable. Sonic knows how to handle Shadow, and therefore better understands how to handle Void.

Patient, protective, but blunt. Will almost ALWAYS tell someone the cold, hard truth, even if it hurts them. There have been many times he's made one of his siblings cry for being "too mean." He doesn't see it that way.

The quietest and least disruptive of his siblings. Spends a lot of time reading.

Andromeda

Eldest sister

Can come across as bratty or vain, but loves her family deeply. Often can't decide if they are the most annoying people in the world, or her favorite.

Still very much a moody teenager, but the normal, non-traumatized amount.

Would be that pretty, popular older sister that Stellar wishes she was more like.

Prefers to stay out of fights, despite her power. Values her appearance greatly and would rather her perfectly preened quills didn't get disturbed. That being said, she has an explosive temper, and won't shy away from punching it out with someone who pisses her off.

Gets along great with Shadow for the most part, but when they disagree, their fights are infamously explosive. Sonic can do little to defuse an argument between the two of them once it has started, so he usually tells the other kids to make some popcorn.

That being said, she, Shadow, and Stellar would often go shopping or to the spa together!

Sonic, on the other hand, would be her favorite dad to chill and watch movies with!

Very protective of her siblings. That type of girl to tease and make fun of her family, but immediately turn on anyone else who does. Those are HER idiots, dammit!

Polarity

Youngest brother (but still older than Stellar!!)

Playful, witty, and clever. No one thinks of faster comebacks than he does!

A LOT like Sonic, but with a softer edge. Has less of his bold-faced confidence.

Sporty and active, but also a huge nerd. LOVES comic books!

Fastest runner out of his siblings, period.

Due to having a lot of the same interests, Sonic and Polarity would spend a lot of time together! The two of them would have a lot of inside jokes and running bits. Polarity would want to be just like him!

The most eager to be a great hero out of his siblings.

Despite his closeness with Sonic, he is not missing any love from Shadow. It would seem that all the things Shadow likes about Sonic, he likes about Polarity. Shadow clearly has a favorite between his two sons.

Polarity and Stellar are the only two people who know how to make Shadow laugh consistently.

Polarity and Stellar are also the most alike among the siblings! The two of them are super close. Unfortunately for Polarity, being around Stellar seems to make him dumber. There is only one brain cell between the two of them when they are left to their own devices.

His antagonistic relationship with Void isn't present here! The two of them get along fine, even if Polarity isn't particularly close to him. If anything, he wishes the two of them did more stuff together.

[theealbatross]

Headcannon: Sebastian takes care of people

Tags: fluff, kinda low self esteem, kinda unhealthy codependency, short read had to get it out of my head

He takes care of strangers

Like silly little first years lost in the moving stairs, albeit with a frown and a sharp lecture about the dangers of walking around the castle and being too prideful to carry a map when they could barely locate their dorm rooms, firmly putting a quick end to older students' teasing when their jokes cross a line, and even ending up as the reluctant volunteer tutor (live training dummy) for Defense Against the Dark Arts after Professor Hecat assigned him the role to complete his detention.

This, in turn, makes him surprisingly popular with the kids to his bewilderment as they gravitate toward their grumpy but reliable senior.

"Have a good day, Sebastian!"

Both of you frown in confusion at the gaggle of cheerful first-year Hufflepuffs who eagerly greet him as you pass the halls. One even waved at him before they turned into a corner.

"What was that?"

He shrugs. "Hell if I know."

He takes care of his friends

"Amitt! Watch out!"

The Ravenclaw could barely turn to the familiar booming voice before he was shoved to the ground.

"Hey! You aren't allowed in the field!"

"Are you alright, Amitt?" He realizes the concerned voice of his friend, Sebastian, brought him out of his stupor. And in his hand is the bludger that nearly had an intimate interaction with the back of his head.

"Oh! Sebastian! Many thanks! I didn't know Slytherin practices ran this late. I was on my way to the top of the bleachers -- the best views of the summer night sky, I tell you."

"Thakkar, you don't have permission to be here!"

Sebastian rolls his eyes, feeling Amitt's anxiety rising as Slytherin quidditch players land one after another, looming over him. "Back off, all of you. He nearly got hurt. I'll handle it."

"But --"

"My apologies everyone! I truly meant no harm --"

"The captain's right, Sallow. Who knows if those Ravenclaws are using this nerd over here to spy on us --"

"I said back off, Thorncrest," Sebastian turned his back on Amitt to face all of his teammates, daring any of them to take another step. "The next time you ignore my orders, I'll stop using words since they can't seem to penetrate through your skull. So you either learn to play nice or I won't let it pass that it was because of your subpar performance that a bludger almost hit my friend."

Sebastian and the other Slytherin student glared at each other until Imelda smacked Thorncrest's head, cutting through the tension. "Listen to your Vice-Captain," he turns to Sebastian with a nod. "I'll take care of him, you get Thakkar out of here."

Sebastian nodded back at Imelda, ensuring everyone was back in the skies before turning to a guilty-looking Amitt.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian. I did not think I would cause such a disturbance."

Sebastian just waved him off with a friendly chuckle and a comforting hand on his shoulder. Amitt can't believe his fellow Ravenclaws don't believe him when he tells them Sebastian is a warm person, laughing to his face was just quite rude. To be fair, they could barely believe they were friends at all. "Don't worry about it, athletes are assholes during Quidditch season."

He looked sheepish, "Can I still go up the bleachers?"

Despite his subdued character, Sebastian can see that Amitt has all the determination in the world when it comes to achieving the things that interest him the most. Maybe that's why he liked the Ravenclaw boy so much. "Yeah, go ahead, Amitt. Just don't let any prefect see you."

"Ah! Thank you, my friend! I shall be as quiet as a mouse!"

Sebastian waved as Amitt haphazardly said his goodbyes.

"If anybody bothers you tell them to talk to me!"

He takes care of Ominis

Despite his great interest in the dark arts and his pure-blooded status, Sebastian will take any and every opportunity to fight Ominis' family. He hates them simply because they hurt his friend, which is unforgivable in his eyes. He had every opportunity to get in their good graces but he blew all of that to pieces when he got in a crude fight with the eldest son of the Gaunts the moment he called Ominis a 'useless cripple'.

From then on, Sebastian has been banned from the Gaunt's estate indefinitely.

"Yeah, they better fucking ban me or I'll burn that haunted house to the ground and lock that prick inside of it."

Despite himself and his pacifistic tendencies, Ominis couldn't but scoff out a laugh while Sebastian nursed a bloody lip, glaring at the gates of the manor as it closed on them. "You didn't need to do that."

"I don't think I did enough," he sneers, blood boiling at the fact that Ominis seemed used to their cruel words. Not wanting to fester on their cruel treatment, he throws his hands across Ominis' shoulders. "Who the hell wants to spend Christmas there anyway? Feldcroft is way more cozy."

Ominis smiled, patting Sebastian's back, the closest 'thank you' he could show now that he knew he had found a true friend. "You're right," He thinks of Anne, Solomon's bland stew, and the blinking lights of the Sallow home.

"Are you alright?" And Sebastian -- kind, true, painfully loyal. His first friend.

Ominis nods.

"Let's go home."

He takes care of his family.

Even though Anne no longer communicates with him after 'the incident' Sebastian still religiously sends letters to Beauxbatons Academy along with whatever trinkets he finds that remind him of her. And even though he detested Solomon and barely felt bad about his death, he still made a point to clean his grave, knowing the old man didn't like it when things were messy, and even emptied his favorite whiskey on his birthday.

"Seb?"

He blinks as you slip your hands into his. He squeezes it, letting the heat on your skin ground him as the two of you stare at the gravestone. Just as remorseful guilt creeps into your heart, he cuts it off. "I don't regret it, you know," he mutters firmly. "He almost ... he was hurting Anne. He was going to hurt you."

You nod, leaning your forehead on his shoulders, trying to comfort him through his quiet struggles knowing words or pieces of advice won't help.

"But I know he did his best. It wasn't enough but it was his best," he empties the other half of the whiskey on the grave, and his grip on you tightens. "I owe him this much."

He takes care of you.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Sebastian flinches awake at the recent memory, his breath shaky as he looks around the dim light of the Room of Requirement.

He did what he had to do, he knows this. Solomon has been eaten up by his own anger, if he didn't stop him ... Merlin knows what would've happened.

If the three of you had gotten out of that fight alive, with your participation in his insipid plans, it wasn't unlikely that Solomon would ship you off to Azkaban with him. That can't happen, he dragged you into that hellhole, he had to get you out of there unscathed.

No matter how high the cost.

"S-Sebastian?"

He sits up from the couch, surprised to see you awake on the open door that leads to your personalized bedroom. The two of you had holed up in your safe haven after the events of the night but it would seem rest evaded the two of you.

"I can't ..." you sigh shakily, biting your lips. "I can't sleep. I'm scared."

As if your fear had overpowered his own, he swiftly set aside the last traces of his fear and guilt, extending his hands, which you eagerly took. Sebastian pulls you in his lap, preceding any thought of impropriety as he curls himself around you, letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck while he covers the two of you in your blanket.

"It's all going to be all right," he promises, pressing his lips on the crown of your hair. "I won't let anything happen to you."

And takes care of you.

"Hey, Sebastian is waiting for you in the common room."

"Sallow said he'll pick you up after class."

"She's not coming, Sebastian's got her."

"Your hound is here."

You turned with a frown from Imelda to what she was staring at with a mischievous grin and by the door stood Sebastian, smiling when your eyes met.

"I --"

"-- have to go," Imelda playfully rolled her eyes. You gave her a smile as you gathered your books.

"Same time next week?"

"Maybe let's hide somewhere your hound can't sniff you up?"

"Get your own witch, Reyes," a deep voice from behind proved her point. Sebastian grabbed your book and satchel from your hands, hooking it on one arm, and the other gently offered his free hand to yours. "This one's mine."

And wants to take care of you forever.

"You should marry me."

Your next step faltered as you turned to Sebastian on the shore of the Black Lake, the setting sun illuminating his face and the vulnerability and determination written across it.

"W-What?"

"I've thought about it," he swallows, walking closer until he is right in front of you, the cold shallow water above your ankles a welcome reprieve from your burning body at such an announcement. "I've thought about letting you go, letting you find someone better than me. "

"Sebastian --"

"But I figured that I'm a selfish man. I always have been. And I want you more than anything else," you shudder at his fervor. "I love you more than anything else in this world."

Gently, as he always does, he took your hand, placing it on his warm cheek. "I can't offer much, I know, but I ... I will make you the sun my world will revolve on."

He presses a kiss at your palm, a warm tear falls from your eyes.

"Marry me," he begs. "Let me be the one to make you happy."

[wordsarelife]

—merry christmas, please don't call

pairing: theo nott x malfoy!reader

summary: after breaking up a few months ago, theo and you meet again at the yearly christmas ball at your parent's house. you're both dealing with the grief of a relationship that ended too soon.

warnings: angst, post breakup, bittersweet

notes: felt inspired by the song, but idk what this is.. lol. also used the word 'soft' way too often, but honestly couldn't be bothered to change that..

the lights glisten above your head as you make your way to the extravagant decorated room. it's stunning, really, with the warmth of christmas flooding the place, almost like it always feels warm and like home in these halls.

christmas is probably the only time of the year you feel any warmth in the malfoy house.

during that special time, it resembles hogwarts a bit and anything that resembles hogwarts ultimately feels like home.

the dress you're wearing is suprisingly comfortable, not comparable to the ones your mother normally chooses. it does fulfill two purposes at once: it looks gorgeous and elegant, while it fits your form perfectly and doesn't scratch or hurt.

the party is not in full swing yet, but a few guests are already there, talking reservedly or sipping on their champagne. the buffet isn't open yet, but you smell the delicious food offerings to where you're standing.

your eyes fall on draco, who walks closer with an unusual caring look on his face.

"mum told you to look nicer again, or what?" you asked. around these festivities draco is the only person you can speak normal with, considering your mother makes you study before speaking to guests. she would get a heart attack if she heard you speak one informal sentence during the ball.

draco shrugs, before he steps next to you. to the guests you make the perfect picture siblings, both stunning to look at, while you look like you harmonize like twins.

draco is a bit older than you, but growing up in a house like that ultimately leads you to make strong ties with the people that are caught together with you.

"no" draco finally says. he speaks slow and his voice is almost a whisper, as if he's trying not to make too much noise or dare one of the guests to come and converse with you.

you turn your head to look at him, brows furrowed. he stares straight ahead. draco normally isn't the one to hold back. he's straightforward even with unnerving topics, but this seems to even make him uncomfortable.

"theo" he eventually mutters and your hand clasps around his arm in such a hurry, like he just slapped you. draco's eyes fall on you and he looks almost scared. "he's coming"

"i thought mum said he couldn't make it?" your voice is two octaves higher than normal, begging for this to be a simple misunderstanding.

"well" draco sighs, "change of plans"

tears well up in your eyes. "draco, i can't—"

"you must" draco says, even though it seems like he's reluctant to do so. "you can't afford to mess this up"

"draco" you mutter once again, pleading.

"i'm sorry" he squeezes your hand. "you don't have to speak with him, okay? i'll take care of that. just act normal"

you nod, biting back the lump in your throat. the tears are thin and you pat them away from your face quickly. "okay"

most of the evening goes by like a gentle breeze. draco stays true to his word, taking care of the situation without you having to do anything with it.

a few times you can feel eyes gazing over your form, but you don't give into the overwhelming call to turn and look at him. you know that you can't or the night would be over.

theo isn't trying to disturb you either. he never comes closer, makes no move to talk to you and even though you can feel his eyes linger, he knows that it isn't his place. you aren't his to look at, he isn't yours to notice.

the lights and the music of the room make you feel like someone wrapped you in a massive bubble wrap, stumbling through the room and making polite conversation any time it is needed, laughing at the right times and looking down gracefully when someone compliments you.

your mother would be proud if she had the time to notice through the stress of the party.

faster than you had hoped, the thickness of the night develops into a full blown headache, drowning out the sound around you as your head practically begs for a moment of silence.

that's why you slip away at around eleven, walking up the stairs and down the hall until you reach a room no one ever visits.

the room is dark, only a small light illuminating the space. in the middle stands an abandoned piano, the one your parents had bought as soon as they had found out they were expecting a girl, hoping for you to be musically inclined.

you never developed a real interest, but through various years of teaching and practice you can play a few songs. that seems to have been enough.

you sit down on the bench in front of the piano, moving your fingers to hit a few notes that echo along the walls of the small room. the silence that follows is defeaning. it's the happiest time of the year, but you feel anything but happy.

right when you think about returning the party downstairs, the door softly opens behind you. when you turn around you expect to be met with a disapproving look on draco's face, but it's not your brother who stares back at you.

"theo" your breath hitches and for a second you're sure you're going to collapse right here on that ugly carpet. but you just look at the boy and he looks right back at you.

every unsaid word, every unfinished sentece is hanging in the air between you.

theo closes the door.

"hey" he finally says, slowly stepping closer, like he's trying not to scare you away.

"hey" you answer. another few seconds of silence settle between you, until theo clears his throat.

"i would ask how you have been.." he hesitates, before he shakes his head. "honestly i'm not sure i want to know the answer"

maybe it's just the calmness in his voice that makes you relax almost immediately, but you know it's actually the truth behind his words. you feel the exact same, fearing that anything you would've found out would have made it worse.

"come" you say, patting the bench beside you. "sit with me"

theo obliges, settling down in close proximity to you and although you feared it would, it doesn't make you uncomfortable, not even in the slightest. his presence is familiar and that makes it all the more jarring.

"that's a beautiful dress you're wearing" he compliments.

you smile slightly. "thank you" your eyes are caught by the pattern of his tie. you sigh. "that's the same tie you wore the last time we danced together"

there's an icy look in theo's eyes as he seems to remember the day of your mother's summer ball. the way your eyes had sparkled the entire night. the way you had circled around him, laughing at everything he had said. the way you had looked at him like you had never seen something better. the way you aren't looking at him like that anymore.

"sorry" you mutter, your gaze dropping away from his face and onto your fingers. "i don't know why i just said that"

"it's okay" theo assures.

you're sure he's lying.

"it's just— everything is so different suddenly" he mutters. "i don't know how to act, how to speak with you. it feels like you died"

you flinch, his words hitting you harder than expected, before you settle down, realizing that he just put into words what you had been feeling these past months. "i think i know what you mean" you admit. "it hurts so much, because i know you're still there. but you're not mine anymore and nothing happened to you, but you will never be the same again either" you pause, before you look up at him again. "not to me at least"

theo's jaw tightens, his shoulders sag, the weight of your words settling over him like a shroud.

“i guess that’s what hurts the most” he finally says, his voice barely audible. “that we’re still here, breathing the same air, but we’ll never be... us again. not even close.”

you nod, a tear slipping down your cheek before you can stop it. “it feels like grieving someone who’s standing right in front of you. like i should reach out and touch you, but there’s this... wall, and i don’t even know who put it there.”

theo looks at you then, his gaze softening, just for a moment. “maybe we both did.”

the words hang between you, heavy and undeniable. you both look away, staring at the floor, the past, the impossible distance between who you were and who you are now.

the music from the ball filters faintly through the walls, a haunting melody of what once was.

you smile through the tears, closing your eyes and breathing in the smell of the air. theo's smell. "you still smell like winter—like frost and firewood. i thought i’d forgotten."

theo freezes at your words, his breath hitching as he looks at you, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his face. "and you still... sound the same" he murmurs. "like you're about to laugh, even when you're crying."

you let out a quiet, bitter chuckle at that, wiping your eyes quickly. "funny how nothing changes and yet everything does, isn’t it?"

he doesn’t answer, just watches you with that unreadable expression—the same one he used to wear when he was trying to hide how much he cared.

“do you remember that night at the summer ball?” you ask softly, your voice trembling. “i thought i’d never be happier than i was in that moment. you were smiling so much, and i—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “it feels like it happened to someone else.”

theo looks away, his jaw tightening. “maybe it did. we were different back then”

the silence stretches again, the music drifting like a ghost between you. finally, he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “i don’t know how to let go of that night. of you.”

you bite your lip, holding back the sob rising in your chest. “maybe we don’t have to let go” you say, your voice trembling. “maybe we just carry it. like a scar. something that hurt, but proves it was real.”

theo’s lips curve into the faintest, most bittersweet smile. “then it will be the most beautiful scar i’ll ever bear”

you smile softly at him.

theres a few seconds of silence until his voice reaches your ears once more. "it won't be good again, we will not be good again, right?"

"no" you softly shake your head, another tear rolling over your cheek. "but we will heal from this" you mutter, your eyes crashing into his. "not yet, but... one day"

"i know" theo nodds. "i just miss what we had"

"so do i" you reply, your voice breaking as you admit it. “every day.”

theo watches you while your fingers slowly wander over the keys of the piano, playing a soft melody. the way he looks at you feels a bit like before all this happened, but you can't allow your mind to wander.

theo follows your lead, pressing a few keys too. you smile as he hits the wrong one on accident.

you lay your head to rest on his shoulder, as your hands continue to pass by each other on the piano, never truly meeting but not being too far either.

"merry christmas, theo" you mutter softly.

"merry christmas, y/n" theo smiles, his voice carrying it's usual warmth. "you were the best thing about me"

—

tag: @bakingintheshire

[itertarot]

Reading on your wedding day

Pick an image:

You, dear pile number 1, will be totally anxious, you will be so nervous that you will feel like running away haha, I see you being so worried asking your mother or bridesmaids if everything is okay, if your outfit is good enough, if your makeup is ideal, if the decoration is right and even if the day you chose is right. You will be trying to see your loved one from afar because you want the security that he brings you, but of course, you will not talk to him before the ceremony, but you will try to look at him among the crowd because that alone is enough to calm you down. Be careful, pile number 1, so much nervousness can give you a stomach ache, you may even question if this is really what you want, totally afraid of the new, afraid of what married life will be like, afraid of everything.

Your fiancé will be very happy and radiant, he is completely sure that this is the right choice for his life, I see him very excited to see you as a bride. It will certainly be the happiest day of his life, which marks the end of his single life and the beginning of your story together.

You have put a lot of effort and money into this wedding, everything will go very well, you will look beautiful. It will be a very romantic wedding, the decoration will be beautiful, you will have a traditional wedding with many blessings. Your family will celebrate and be very happy, it will be a wonderful day. Most of you will have an outdoor wedding. Some in a field with lots of foliage, others in a field that looks like a wheat field. The minority will get married in a castle or a very old church. The party seems to start at dusk and go on until late night, it is possible that it will rain in the middle of the wedding.

Pile 2:

You, number 2, unlike number 1, are calm. You will be trying your best to look amazing on your special day. You are very calm and will calm your partner who, unlike you, will be very nervous. You will be happy and anxious for this new chapter in your story and at the same time you will be remembering everything you have experienced up until the wedding, remembering as if you were saying goodbye to those memories. You won't know much about what to expect from the future, but you will be positive that whatever comes will be just as well.

Your fiancé, on the other hand, will be very nervous. He may be an introvert who doesn't like to be the center of attention. He will feel like a lost puppy. He really wanted this day. He wants it to be perfect. You changed his life for the better. He feels grateful for having you in his life. But like the bride in pile number 1, your fiancé will be so scared that he will want to run away.

There is not much to say about your wedding. It will be quick. I don't see you having an expensive and luxurious wedding. It will be more intimate. Your marriage will be blessed and spiritual. You have become one and the heavens have recognized you as a couple. What I see is that this wedding is very similar to an elopement wedding. You will get married in a church or at a registry office. I don't see many decorations. It will be a quiet and intimate wedding, with a lot of meaning. It will be beautiful because of the meaning, not because of the big decorations and party rooms. It will be a sunny day, with the wedding lasting from early to late afternoon.

And:

Pile 3:

This pile is very specific and somewhat complicated. Many of you who chose this pile will not have a marriage that you chose. You will feel that your fiancé will provide you with an excellent financial life, he has a lot of money and can provide you with a luxurious life, but you will be afraid and disturbed because you do not have romantic feelings for him, after all, you did not choose him and you probably do not even know who he is. You will feel that he set everything up for you to get married and you will hope and pray to the heavens that he gives up and leaves.

Things aren't good for him either, he doesn't even know you and he's going to question himself a lot about who you are, he's going to be very shaken by this marriage, it wasn't his choice either, he's going to want to give up and leave, but I see that he'll try to stay calm and be positive that you can have a good relationship, because that's what his family wants.

The marriage will be good, you will feel a great attraction for each other as soon as you meet, you will be interested and fall in love with each other, it will be like planting a seed in your hearts that will eventually become love. It will seem like you don't know each other and will only get to know each other on your wedding day, you will have a feeling of "who are you?" But I don't see that the bad feeling will last that long. The marriage can be a financial agreement not between you, but between your families. The wedding will take place outdoors, yet you still feel trapped. It will be outdoors and near some beautiful buildings, I will try to find images that describe what I see here. The wedding will last the whole day, without rain, not too hot during the day, but cold at night and warm clothes will be necessary.

[lovelytsunoda]

the sixth sense | jake "hangman" seresin

summary: after a car accident totals her car and leaves her with the ability to see ghosts, an anxious police desk sergeant learns to live with the ghosts haunting her home, and the crush she has on the hot pilot who lives next door

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

warnings: car accidents, ghosts (but they're very funny ghosts!), sexual innuendos/advances made by a ghost, if you can recognize the names of the detectives/station staff and can correctly tell me what tv show they are from, you get a metaphorical cookie. jake is a very involved neighbour.

author's note: my f1 fics for this collection have been on the struggle bus lately, so here's hoping my top gun one does better

sargeant y/l/n wouldn't say she hated her job, exactly, but there were many days where she wasn't always thrilled with it. take today for example, her desk piled high with requisition forms for fingerprint checks, traffic camera footage, autopsy reports and more.

it wasn't that she didn't like the work. no, she found catching murderers to be most rewarding. it was the people she worked with. detectives who didn't see her as an equal, but as a machine, dropping files on her desk with a demand and an impossible deadline.

"yn, how busy are you for the next few days?"

she raised her eyebrows at the detective across from her. "for you, detective disher? i won't be free until at least the end of the week."

detective disher raised an eyebrow. "how much work are they piling on you? you aren't their servants, you can speak up and tell them you're too busy."

she rolled her eyes, chewing the end of her bic pen. "usually they hightail it out of here before i even have a chance to open my mouth. some of them don't even speak to me or give instructions, they just drop a file on my desk and assume that i know what to do with it."

detective disher frowned. "we really need another desk sargeant."

"you think?"

it was long after sundown when she left the office that night, overtime she probably wasn't going to get paid for. she hoped that leaving at 6:30 was worth it to have a clean desk in the morning, one almost free of files long enough that she could breathe. of course, by the morning, all of the late shift detectives would have dropped all of their files off for her review.

she was about halfway home when traffic started to pick up again, the glow of the led headlights making it difficult to see out of her side mirrors. her glasses claimed to be glare resistant, but what did someone without astigmatism know about glare?

she turned right at the next set of lights, descending down the hill that would lead to her small, cosy neighbourhood. she was still a fair distance away as she watched the light change from yellow to red, taking her foo toff the gas. the car ahead of her seemed to be slowing, but not by much, and the car behind her was uncomfortably close. she sped up slightly, ready to put her foot on the brakes whenever neccesary.

wait a minute, are his break lights out? he's stopping!

she slammed her foot on the brakes, watching helplessly as her car continued to slide forward, her front bumper colliding with the rusted tail hitch.

her head jerked forward from the impact, banging against the steering wheel before it all went black.

she came to in the hospital, where audio was blurry and vision even worse as the doctor explained the symptoms of a concussion to her.

“it was a bad scene all around. you’re lucky you weren’t injured further.” the doctor insisted. “legally, I can’t allow you to drive for the next few days. is there someone we can call?”

realistically, the only name that came to mind was detective dishers. her parents were two cities away, and she didn’t want to disturb them. her sister was on vacation, and she didn’t want to bother any of her friends.

disher picked her up by the main doors, a matchbox twenty song playing on his stereo as she groggily slipped into the passenger seat, a plastic baggie full of prescription drugs in her hands.

“just take me home, randy. I don’t want to talk about it.”

the detective sighed. “okay. But you know you don’t have to come into work tomorrrow, right?”

great. no work meant no leaving the house. no leaving the house meant that her thoughts drove her to the brink of madness.

she simply couldn’t win.

as she slipped into her bed, she must have been slowly losing her mind as she swore that she could hear voices in her room as she was drifting off. she didn't think much of it, chalking it up to exhaustion as she let sleep claim her.

the following morning, she groggily puttered around the kitchen, assembling a light breakfast as she called her captain to explain why she couldn't come to wrok.

"hey captain, i was in an accident last night-"

"i know. randy called me. are you doing okay?"

"no concussion, but the doctor wants me to monitor for signs, so i'm not super hopeful. disher drove me home, and i'm supposed to hear from the mechanics about the state of my car later today."

"well, take care of yourself, yn. if you need anything at all, you have my number, and you have randy's. but don't call adrian, he's probably just going to make things worse."

she sighed, rubbing the skin on her forehead, fingertips teasing the edge of the bandages from where she'd hit her head on the steering wheel. "thanks leland."

"my my, you look a little worse for wear, don't you?" the voice came from nowhere, very thickly british and definitely not familiar.

she spun around, spying a figure in the kitchen doorway. his long hair dusted the shoulders of his leather jacket, and his skinny jeans were ripped to oblivion. she screamed, reaching for the metal ladle in her utensils jar.

"how the fuck did you get into my house?"

"your house?" the man looked confused. "sweetheart, i've always been here. i wouldn't throw that at me, if i was you. you'll just damage the wall behind me."

"who the fuck are you?" she stammered. "you're not real, this is just concussion brain, i should call the doctor back and go another scan-"

"you're seeing ghosts, honey." this voice was older, deeper. kinder. and significantly less british. another body materialized in her kitchen, sitting at her breakfast counter. she was round and plump, with a rosy face and sweet, kind eyes. she wore a nun's habit over a white blouse and a long navy skirt. "rick over there died in 1984. i'm sister katherine, and i died in 1961. lovely to meet you properly."

"the fuck do you mean i'm seeing ghosts?!" yn screamed, the sound reverberating through her skull. "you're not real!"

"i understand that this is a lot to take in." sister katherine insisted "but it must have something to do with the accident you were in last night."

"how do you know about my accident?" she pushed, brandishing her metal spoon as a weapon.

rick rolled his eyes. "because we watched that detective bring you home last night. tell me, are you two sordid lovers? if i wasn't dead i would love to get a piece of your-"

"enough, richard!"

"what the hell is happening right now? has he been watching me in the shower?" yn hissed under her breath, starting to pace back and forth in front of her stovetop.

"if you've got a head injury, you should really sit down." the nun kept trying to reason with yn, but nothing in this situation made one iota of sense.

she shakily sat down in one of the ikea chairs in her kitchen, and noted how badly her hands were shaking. she dropped the ladle on the table, clasping her hands together. she refused to look at rick and sister katherine, instead focusing on where her shellac manicure had begun to chip.

she really should book herself in for a fresh one.

"we have visitors!" rick's voice carried, his ghostly body reappearing next to yn. she startled in the chair, refusing to meet his eyes. "he looks annoyed, and he's wearing mechanics coveralls. i wore a pair of those on stage once. ladies love 'em."

"he was in a very unsuccessful hair band." sister katherine clarified.

"i need both of you to stay quiet for a second." she sighed. "he must be from the body shop."

she closed the front door behind her, although that was unlikely to do much against two beings who could walk through walls, but a girl could try.

"are you y/n y/l/n?"

"sergeant y/n y/l/n." she corrected. "san francisco pd. can i help you?"

"i'm from clint's garage, detective disher brought your car in last night."

that didn't sound good. behind her, she could hear a car door slam in her neighbour's driveway. oh good, jake was home. she tried not to let her eyes wander, waiting with bated breath for what the mechanic was going to say next.

"the front bumper was totally smashed, caved in where you hit the trailer hitch. the hood is also bent back a bit from impact. the good news is that the airbags didn't go off, which means your car can be fixed. the bad news is that it's going to cost more than your car is worth."

she could feel her headache coming back, her legs beginning to feel weak. she knew her car wasn't worth much due to it's age. but the city didn't pay her enough for her to be able to take on the payment for a new car outright, even if she was buying used.

she felt unsteady, and her body was starting to list to one side as two strong arms picked her up.

"i've got you, just keep breathing." the smell of cologne was overwhelming. there was no way in fuck that was rick, and it wasn't the mechanic.

she'd know that texan drawl anywhere. and that meant that right now, she was in navy pilot jake seresin's arms.

and that idea made her feel a little more faint that normal.

jake seresin had lived in that neighbourhood longer than her. she'd moved into her rental house just over four years ago, and he'd bene there on viewing day in a tight white tank top and jeans, getting all sudsy as he washed his silverado in the driveway. she couldn't resist watching from the window as he got into his truck in full navy fatigues before he went to work, or when he worked out shirtless on his front lawn since the porch took up most of the back.

she cleared her throat. "can i get an estimate for the repairs? will it cost less than buying a whole new car?"

the mechanic sighed. "look, even at randy's mates rate, it would still be more advisable to buy something new. go to a dealership and look at the preowned lot, anything less than 20k will serve you a lot better than getting this car fixed up would."

she couldn't form words, mind going fuzzy from the feeling of jakes hand on her lower back, and the thought of going back inside and facing the ghosts again.

"thanks, man. she can't drive for a few days anyway," jake started "but i'll bring her to the car lot when she's better and help her find something nicer."

jake helped her back inside, where the ghosts were watching giddily with their heads through the kitchen wall.

"you didn't have to do that." she insisted, avoiding eye contact with sister katherine while she spoke to jake. "i really can't afford a new car."

she could hear sister katherine in the background, whispering to rick. he's a hot one, and a real gentleman too!

"but you can't drive that one either. it's almost twenty years old, yn." jack frowned. "treat yourself. finance if you have to. take the scrap money and run, that's what i would do. you think the navy pays me well either?"

she fought the urge to bury her head in her hands and slump down on the table. "can you drive me to my follow up at the end of the week? he just wants to make sure there's no brain damage. i was going to get detective disher to do it, but if you have the morning off its less hassle."

jake looked puzzled. "why would you want me to do it instead of your boyfriend? shouldn't that be his job?"

"why the fuck does everybody think i'm hooking up with randy?" she shouted. "jesus, jake. he's my fucking boss."

the pilot's face was red as he carded his fingers through his hair. "he just seems to be over here a lot. he drove you home from the hospital last night and i just assumed."

"he's over here a lot because his girlfriend threw him out so sometimes i let him sleep on the daybed in my spare room while he finds a new place. we've been friends for years, we were at the academy together. i could be where he is if i wasn't too chickenshit to go into the field."

jake paused for effect. "well, this is awkward. are you sure you never thought about it."

despite herself, yn laughed. "we hooked up once back at the academy. we were sooo not compatible."

"i fucking knew it!" she heard rick shout in the background. "men and women can't just be friends!"

"richard!" sister katherine cut him off. "let the girl speak and mind your own business."

"lucky for you," jake grinned, totally unaware of the ghosts arguing behind him, every syllable of their argument making yn cringe inside "i happen to have the day off on friday. i'll take you to the doctors, and if everything is good, we can go to the car lot where i bought my truck. the guy will give you a good deal."

"i want a volkswagen. that's non-negotiable." she warned.

"that's fine. we can even stop by the garage and pick up your scrap money to put towards a deposit."

her chest felt tight with everything jake was offering to do for her. it was a slight anxiety, but a positive one. nerves that sprung to mind when she thought that maybe jake was offering to do all of these things for her because he wanted to be more than just her neighbour.

and as incredible as she knew it would feel to have a special place in jake seresin's heart, she'd been out of a relationship for so long that being in one again scared the ever-loving shit out of her.

true to his word, jake picked her up promptly at ten am the following morning. she had stressed about what to wear all morning, dodging criticisms about her outfit choice from sister katherine ('seriously, what on earth are they selling in the clothing shops these days? tops are supposed to go to the top of your jeans! what happened to dressing respectably?) and outdated sex tips from rick (which came with a knowledge of the ghost's kinks that she wished she could erase from her memory).

"just to be clear, you guys are bound to this house, right? you died here and now you can't leave?"

sister katherine nodded. "that is how being dead works, my love. we have to stay here while you go out gallivanting with your fancy man."

she stifled a laugh. "jake is not my fancy man. and neither is randy."

"whatever you say, cutie." rick winked. "and if you ever find yourself being undead in the walls of this house, give me a call and let me rock your world."

shaking her head with a laugh, she closed the front door behind her and headed over the grass to jake's house. he was waiting with two thermoses of hot chocolate and looked like he had just finished vacuuming the inside of his truck.

"good morning sunshine, let's go get you a clean bill of health!"

the wait to see the specialist was longer than the appointment. it lasted no longer than half an hour while the doctor took another brain scan and declared that there was absolutely nothing wrong with y/n aside from some superficial bruising to the skin on her forehead where she hit the steering wheel. jake insisted that her clean bill of health was worth celebrating, ushering her back into the truck and refusing to tell her where they were going.

"you know i'm a serving police officer, right? one call to captain stottlemeyer and there's a all points bulletin out on your truck."

jake laughed heartily. "i'm not kidnapping you, sweets. damn, you really don't like surprises."

"can't say i'm a fan."

minutes later, jake pulled off a secluded country road and into a parking lot lined in mulch. for a place that was so out of the way, the parking lot was packed to the brim and jake had to park the silverado what felt like miles away from the building itself. like a true gentleman, he helped her down from the truck's cab, one hand on the small of her back as they walked towards the large country store.

"a farmers market?" she giggled. "big bad hangman frequents farmer's markets?"

"how do you know my call sign?"

"you have it written on a metal sign in your garage."

jake winked at her, opening the heavy glass door. the country store was in a large refurbished barn, with the hayloft having been fully converted into a small cafe. his hand was warm through her cinnamon colored t-shirt as jake guided her towards the stairs to the cafe.

"do you like cinnamon buns?"

"of course i like cinnamon buns. who do you take me for?"

laughing to himself, jake had a large smile on his tanned face as he guided her towards a window seat. "make yourself comfy, sugar. i'll be right back."

she hated to see jake seresin leave, but she loved to watch him go, shamelessly watching the rippling muscles underneath his tight levis jeans.

he came back a few minutes later, two white china plates in hand, each one with a steaming warm cinnamon bun on top. as he passed her a plate, the cowboy made the bold claim that these were the best cinnamon buns in san francisco.

"i'll be the judge of that." yn said with a laugh, trying to pick up the sticky pastry in her hands in the most dainty way possible. the buns were large, mostly taking up the small plate.

"need a knife for that, sarge?"

"shut up, hangman."

"you know i outrank you, right?" jake joked, a sly look in his eyes.

she stuck her tongue out at the pilot, wishing she had a third hand so she could give him the finger. "bite me."

"all in due time, sugar."

she tried to hide the blush taking over her face, busying herself with taking the first bite of her pastry while she tried to ignore the images that jake's comment had conjured in her mind.

of course, the moan that she let out upon tasting the pastry did nothing to ease the sinful thoughts creeping into her mind. she could tell jake noticed, his breath momentarily catching in his throat despite the smile never breaking on his face.

"am i right or am i right?"

"fine." she playfully rolled her eyes. "you were beyond right. these are incredible!"

she beamed over at jake, wiping up some of the warm glaze on her chin that hadn't fully dried before she'd taken a bite. he was sitting across from her at the small table, and had yet to touch his cinnamon roll.

"you've got a little something..." he started, reaching a warm hand over the table to brush against her lips, wiping up some cinnamon that had been left behind.

her breath caught at the action, her eyes catching jake's blue ones. he truly was a beautiful man. time seemed to slow, jake's eyes slowly moving from her own to her lips and then back up again, her cheeks heating under his gaze.

"yn, can i kiss you?"

"yes."

he leaned over the table, gently rising from his wooden chair as he pressed his lips against hers. he was soft at first, almost apprehensive until she gripped his wrist where he was caressing her face, tilting her head back to give him a better angle and kiss him harder.

kissing jake seresin was everything she'd wanted it to be and more. if this was a movie, there would be fireworks going off behind them, and a sappy pop rock ballad playing as background music. perhaps something by lifehouse or matchbox twenty.

her lips felt sticky as jake pulled away, a goofy smile on both of their faces.

"you haven't touched your pastry." she said shyly.

jake grinned. "that's because you taste a lot nicer."

they stopped at the dealership on the way back, after having picked up the scrap money. yn test drove a volkswagen, fairly new with few miles on it. she decided to make it a point to come back within the end of the weekend, having already fallen in love with the little car. she felt like was, for lack of better words, walking on sunshine as jake pulled into his driveway, one of his large hands resting comfortably on her thigh.

he helped her down, looking forlornly over to her house, almost as if he'd enjoyed himself and didn't want the night to end.

"i have to go into work early tomorrow, and you've probabaly got heaps of work to do as well, so i'll let you get back to it." jake sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. "but, if you're up for it, i can stop by tomorrow and make you something for dinner?"

she smiled up at him, reaching to take his free hand in hers. "i'd love that." remembering her ghostly guests, she hesitated. "but maybe we could do it at your house instead?"

"i would like nothing more, sarge."

"good." she pressed up onto her tiptoes, kissing jake softly.

his hand snaked around her waist, slipping into the back pocket of her jeans as he deepened the kiss. she hummed contentedly, gently stroking his face with her thumb, hand resting on his cheek.

"i can't wait." she winked at him before she cut across her front lawn, backing towards her property. her southern gentlemen saluted her as she unlocked her front door, slipping inside the foyer.

"soooooooo." rick's familiar english drawl began. "how did things go with john wayne over there?"

and despite herself, yn was very much looking forward to sharing details of her budding romance with rick and sister katherine.

things were coming up roses for sargeant yn yln, and she was so excited to see what the future had in store.

[demon-country]

This scene is so interesting to me for a number of reasons, but I want to talk about the eggs and how he said he finds them "off-putting". Now, Stolas is an owl, and like most birds of prey they can and often do eat the eggs of other birds (don't worry Blitz, it isn't cannibalism unless they eat eggs of their own species). So theoretically, eggs shouldn't actually be a problem and it's not like there aren't plenty of fancy foods that involve eggs.

But maybe it's not that deep, and has nothing to do with non-gourmet quality food. Maybe our heavily autistic-coded owl just has an aversion to a lot of breakfast foods. The texture of various types of cooked eggs, in particular, can be quite contentious even for people who aren't neurodivergent, but if you do have texture sensitivities then eggs can be a huge gamble.

The expression on his face in the shot above is exactly the one I'd make if someone tried to make me eat most egg-based dishes, and then I'd probably gag the second it was in my mouth, spit it out, and shudder through the visceral desire to claw my way out of my own skin.

Yeah, kinda like that lol.

Rodents, koi fish, and kale salads are probably safer foods, because there's less ways to cook them and he had a professional chef that would be able to do it the exact same way every time. They definitely are more expensive specialty foods though, so I'm glad he and Blitz were able to find a compromise with regular rats.

And I'm glad that Blitz didn't try to shame Stolas for his food preferences, especially because Stolas looks so awkward and embarrassed just saying them out loud. If he's anything like a lot of autistic folks, he was probably berated for being a picky eater, because even if in his own home with his own staff he could control what was served to him, the same cannot be said for anywhere else that required him to eat something lest he come off as rude. Blitz just takes it in stride though and simply asks about alternatives to vole and kale, because he definitely cannot afford that on a regular basis. And Stolas doesn't make a fuss about it, just tentatively admits that he also likes rats, which Blitz is more than happy to accommodate. Yes, what he offers is back alley feral rats, but Stolas doesn't seem put off by that or demand better quality, he's just alarmed and disturbed by Blitz having his fucking eye chewed on by one.

As someone with a lot of food hypersensitivities, it means a lot to me that Blitz doesn't accuse him of being spoiled or complain about Stolas needing a different diet than him or Loona. It often is hard to accommodate alternative dietary needs - be they because of food sensitivities, allergies, intolerances, or vegan/vegetarianism - when you're on a budget, but Blitz doesn't mind and jumps straight to a non-judgmental "what can you eat?" planning mode.

Like yeah, on the surface his answer to Blitz's initial "so what do you normally eat?" question and the way he gagged from a single, tiny bite of eggs does make him seem kinda spoiled. But his completely unhesitant, unbothered willingness to eat feral fucking rats says to me it wasn't about the fact that he now has to eat "poor people" food prepared by a novice chef, but rather that something about those foods in particular is hard for him to eat in general.

Just one more thing to add to the ever-growing pile of "Stolas is autistic!!" evidence, I guess. And just one more reason why I absolutely adore Blitz.

[whereserpentswalk]

You're an android. A humanoid robot with a mechanical interior, but an outer layer of biological flesh. You were created to be a greeter and assistant at a large corporation in the late 21st century, but it's been a long time since you served that role, the company no longer exists and you serve yourself now.

You were created to be someone who the company finds pleasing, and it still effects you a lot. You were given a body meant to look like a petite youthful woman, someone people find pretty but not someone they'd think of as sexual. You're also physically limited in certain ways, you don't have any body parts considered offensive, not even nipplesq. Your voice is always calm and quite, unable to yell or seem at all harsh. Your limbs are weak in specific places that make most acts of violence almost entirely impossible.

Your most extreme modification is that certain things are censored for your eyes. You can't observe sex, nudity, gore, or hear or read any profanity. You can physically look at these things but it will be censored out by a black bar. They're not even really black, they're gaps in vision, like the things you can't see out of the corner of your eye.

It disturbs you. It didn't when you were young but it's disturbing now. It's hard to describe why. When you were young you were so happy and innocent, and you didn't really understand what you were missing. But now you're older than most humans even though you look basically the same as how you did when you were born. It's not like you really want to do most of these things, you don't have sexual desire, you don't even think of yourself as hurting people, you don't really want to raise your voice. But you want the option, you want the same options as all your human friends, or all the robots you know who don't have those restrictions.

It won't always come up but it hurts when it does. It hurts when you want to talk with the same tone as everyone else, but you're restricted to a calm tone, and can't use profanity, so you can't match the vibe of a conversation. It sucks to try to watch a horror movie and just see void where you know there's meant to be blood. You took an art class once where they drew nude models, and you had to explain that you couldn't draw the woman in front of you fully because of the black bars over her chest and pelvis. The instructor, a gruff former mining robot with a thick streel carapace, patted your head, and called you cute, and called you lucky to be made in such a peaceful environment. You don't feel lucky, you don't feel cute either.

So many humans and scarier looking robots consider you cute. You're always the nice one. Always the sweet one. Everyone treats you like this pure little thing. You've had so many bigger, less human like robots and cyborgs, talk about how they'll protect or, or how they want to protect you. You think they're trying solidarity but they aren't trying it well. You're not innocent, you know what all these adult things are, you're certainly old enough to. You don't need protection, you've been protected too many times.

You've tried to go to an engineer about it, but it's so hard. It's very hard to find someone who'll take your request to let you see genitals and violence seriously. It's not uncommon for ex factory robots to want to have their assembly line instincts removed, or for ex combat robots to want to not have weapons on their bodies. But it's way harder to tell someone who'll be working on your body that you want the physical ability to punch people, or that you want your body to have nipples. People don't understand why you'd want genitals if you won't use them for sex, but you've been a woman for so long, you want a body that reflects that. You tried to get someone to fix your voice, probably the most simple part of you to fix, and they gave you the mechanical equivalent of suger pills, they didn't think it was something someone like you would actually want. They thought they knew better.

There is the option of putting your mind in a new body. It's rare but it's not unheard of by any means. It's expensive, and it takes awhile to learn to use a new body. But you can do it. You have the money and the time. When it does happen it's useally robots less humanoid than you wanting to get bodies more like yourse that have more pretty human parts, but that's not all that can happen.

You've seen a few bodies that have been emptied of minds that you can swap with. You've been thinking about it for awhile. There are some space exploration models and some sex work robots who you've come close to working on swapping with. But there's one that trumps all of them for sure. It's this empty millitary robot body, that everyone other than you finds creepy. It's very elongated and spindly with a lot of limbs and a metal black and gold exterior, it looks a bit like a giant praying mantis, especially with that combination of agression and elegence. It's beautiful to you, but in this alien art deco way. Just the idea of being inside that body makes you excited. It still doesn't have genitals but thats less weird for a body like that. You want so badly to be that tall thin metal woman covered in built in weapons, you want so badly to be something people are afraid of, something meant to know all the dark and upsetting things of the adult world.

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

Day 5: Hearth: Fem! Malleus Draconia

@yanderecrazysie and @tink2kagome as I didn't give you credit in my other ones but seeing your posts made me go "I need to write these; the kiddos must be fed" so thank you for the inspiration. Hope you guys like hot lizard women.

TW: clingy ass dragon wife, needed a break from writing about men being crazy # feminism, mentions of murder, Lillia's bat dad ass being emotionally manipulative, wholesome and disturbing, reader is not Yuu, Lillia is a platonic yandere for Malleus, mentions of Lillia physically harming you, panic attack, Reader is becoming a bit too accepting

Winter in the Valley of Thorns is...brutal to say the least. Lack of technology meant you had to rely on the roaring magic hearth. Its green glow reminding you of your naive trust in a woman you once considered your friend. A woman who used your name to control and keep you passive.

You deeply admired Malleus for the way she carried herself and how afraid everyone was of her. You were always a bit too soft and too much of a people pleaser, trusting everyone had good intentions. How you got into a villain school you still don't know. How you met was...embarrassing to say the least. She found you huddled into a little ball on the ground in the bathroom, crying your eyes out. Being soft left you open for a lot of attacks from the nasty folks that liked picking on the weak (you weren't weak).

"Child of man why do you sit on the washroom floor, is this something common with man?" You flinch at the deep feminine voice that spoke to your shaken form. Your blurry vision takes in the tall statuesque figure of Malleus Draconia. You would be an idiot not to know about one of the most powerful mages in Twisted Wonderland. Her emerald colored eyes scrutinize your cowering form.

"Oh, I'm sorry, geez I really wasn't expecting anyone to see me like this." You fake a chuckle while furiously wiping away at unshed tears that threatened to spill. Of all of the people to catch you it had to be someone who could smite you for annoying her. The Draconia heir's expression was unreadable especially given your height difference.

"It is foolish of you to apologize to me; do you not know of what you've just done?" You blanch, oh my god she was going to kill you. "No, I didn't mean to upset you! I'm so-" Malleus bends down to your quivering form. "You aren't aware of fae culture? Your education must have been sorely lacking." Her glowing verdant irises displaying confusion and sincere concern. You blush embarrassed to admit you didn't bother to pay attention to any mention of the faerie in curriculum. Malleus offer's you a dainty gloved hand which you accept.

A huge amount of force pulls you up, Sevens is she strong. You feel the sides of your lips quirk upwards as you look at the mysterious woman. "Thanks for helping me up I'm (Y/N)!"

You cursed yourself to belong to her from the beginning

You lay shivering in a pile of blankets glaring at the fae responsible for the magic fire in your room (prison) going out. The black and pink haired menace seemed to be a bit peeved at your rebellious tendencies upsetting the Queen of Briar Valley. "You ought to watch your tongue Royal Consort, her majesty holds your opinions of her higher than my own." Lillia Vanrouge's sing songy voice chirps yet you glare at him.

"I didn't ask to be Royal Consort Vanrouge, don't forget I was kidnapped." It was unbearably true that the fae woman had taken you from (dorm that isn't Diasomnia) and forced you to share a room in Diasomnia together. She claimed that betrotheds should spend more time together in order to transition into married life smoothly. Every escape attempt was thwarted by the overprotective bat fae and two people you once considered friends. You move your hand to itch at the burn scars on your neck from one particular escape attempt.

"Ah yes a method most traditional for faerie folk with more stubborn lovers. You are so lucky that Malleus ordered me not to harm a hair on your head because I'd be glad to teach you another lesson in obedience." The burn scars get hot at the mention of "lesson" as your eyes widen. The older fae was capable of a lot of cruelty despite his youthful appearance.

"Even so if Malleus loved me, she wouldn't keep me here in this horrible palace where I'm miserable." Your sentence comes out a lot more unstable than intended. Lillia's pupils dilate as if he senses your fear which was very obviously displayed on your face. "Aw are you scared? I'm sure you would love to have Malleus come and tell mean old Lillia off." The fae taunts as you curl into your blankets more. Why won't he leave you alone? What did you do to deserve this?

"Please leave me be..." You whisper out but the bat fae's sensitive hearing picks it up. Lillia features soften as he kneels to stroke your hair, unsettling you further at the change in mood. "I have always considered Malleus to be a daughter of mine, her happiness is my own. When she first met you, she couldn't talk about anything else for a month." Lillia laughs sadly as a distant look mists his eyes.

"The two of you were so perfect together both socially inept and overly trusting in the other. Malleus treasured you above all else her first real friend and... mate." Lillia turns to you and sighs. "I only hurt you so bad because I saw that every time you escaped a part of her broke. Even now she's so distant towards me and her...guards." His cold pale fingers lift you chin up to look at you with a stern fatherly expression. "You need to quit acting like a baby. Don't you think if anyone truly missed you, they would have come looking for you?"

Your body shakes with silent sobs as Lillia's icy stare punctures your skull. He was lying someone had to be looking for you. Your friends, your teachers, your parents...

Your partner

You remember how fluttery they made you feel. Such a lively and intelligent Octavinelle student made your heart race. They were so cool and confident. You also remember telling Malleus about how you planned to ask out your crush, how she looked so blissful until you told her who it was.

You remember their charred carcass and Malleus's primal gaze that was so greedy, so possessive, so...dragonlike.

An icy grip squeezes your ribcage as the air is forced out of your lungs. Everything felt too loud and too quiet. The blankets felt so suffocating as you came to a chilling realization.

You were alone and no one cared

As you spiraled you didn't hear the door open nor the clack of boots. The only thing that tipped you off that Malleus had returned was the weight that sunk beside you on the bed and a deep purr echo from the dragon fae. "My Consort you did not attempt to hide from me, are you perhaps ill or..."

Malleus whiffs the air and glares sharply. Lillia was interfering with her marriage and pulling her darling spouse father away. As much as she loved him you were his and he had no right to harm such a gentle creature. No, you must be treated gently like one would hold a dove. The woman gently uncovers your shivering body and softens. You looked so helpless just like when she found you, before you were hers. She removes her gloves and caresses your side gently with a pale hand. Her cool touch made you jerk away instinctively, she was not pleased.

"Did someone hurt you while I was gone?" Malleus was planning on having a harsher discussion with Lillia if you said yes. You turn around and stare at her with your shiny (e/c) eyes. You were gorgeous, ethereal, yet so human. She loved you even when your face was red and puffy from crying. She flinches as she feels a heavy weight land on top of her.

"M-malleus please I'm so c-cold." You look deeply into your wife's phosphorescent eyes, your broken expression made Malleus ache to fix things. You then buried your face into the woman's ample bosoms causing her to gasp with shock. The dragon fae froze gauging if this were some silly human test, when you don't let go, she eagerly wraps her arms around you. She missed this, this willing affection, the heavenly bliss of your touch. She was determined to give you every star in the sky if only to hold you a bit longer.

Softly Malleus raises one hand a green flame flickers in the barren hearth filling the room with warmth. You immediately turn to the source of the heat hoping to gain more. Malleus frowns before pulling you back and casting a spell to make her cold reptilian body warm.

"There there my brilliant treasure, you shall never beg for warmth when I am near. I shall serve as your source of heat and light if only you'd hold me tighter." You look up at your wife's waxen face with awe? No that can't be right, she kidnapped you and let Lillia hurt you. Yet in this moment you saw your beloved Malmal the awkward and mischievous woman who you loved.... Loved perhaps as friends in the pass and yet in this perfect moment.

"Malleus can I ask you something?" You whisper as if speaking to loud would ruin the sanctuary your wife had created with warmth and magic. Her siren eyes glimmer in the hearth's viridescent glow. "Anything for you, my consort." Your stomach feels tingly at her words a light blush setting over your (s/t) cheeks. "Can I kiss you?"

Malleus's eyes widen as she stills, causing you to grow self-conscious. Did you upset her? Your wife looks at you with reverence as if you did the most marvelous thing.

"You are welcome if you wish." You gulp and nod propping yourself up on top of your wife who waits patiently to see what you would do. You lean it breath hitched as you are able to hear how loudly you heart was beating. Or was it hers? Gently you place your lips on the slightly chapped dark lips of the queen your wife. Your wife kisses back but allows you to take the lead, deepening the kiss as she growls steam rising from her nostrils. You pull back with Malleus chasing your mouth as if begging you to stay like that forever.

You look down at the woman beneath you and smile, she was so accommodating. Perhaps you could move on and forge a new relationship. You crash you lips against hers again in a more energetic kiss, causing the woman to gasp. Green glowing fireflies surround the bed as you indulge in your wife's affection.

Malleus held your still form against her eyes narrowed. She had gotten you to touch her willingly and she wanted more. A dragon will take until all the gold is in its horde. She would wait for you because there was something intoxicating in surrendering yourself fully to someone so much weaker than you. The dragon queen chuckles already imaging you pregnant with her brood (no matter your sex you are getting pregnant). Or you could get her pregnant. Magic was a wonderful thing after all. In the first time in forever Malleus let her eyes gently close as she hoped to see you in her dreams as well.

The green glow of the hearth sends whisps of smoke like thorns as the two-sleeping lover embrace each other. Unaware of a very satisfied ward who peeks through the door frame.

Yes, bitches I did it, I've got a paper but I'm not going to finish it tonight. Writing is the only thing keeping me sane and I love the idea of genderbending Twisted Wonderland characters. Also, I'm feeding the submissive Malleus fantasies a bit as I grow tired of seeing him in charge. He may be the king, but you hold all the power in your relationship knowingly or unknowingly. Also, lizard tiddies.

[serxinns]

Platonic Yandere EraserMic fam dealing with a fem teen that's an anti-hero? Like the couple is tasked with watching the wayward adolescent, because she was really close with taking down the hero commission ( let's not pretend to not know how shady they are ). But before she can fully execute her plan she was taken down by the Pros, the couple in question included. Now the two heroes and their family has to play babysitter/ temporary foster family to the little rebel. Because even though they've done more good than harm in most cases, taking down villains and corrupt heroes a like. Most of the main figure heads can admit that her taking down something as big as the hero commission will cause a major wave of distrust for the hero society. Which compared to the little ripples of distrust their vigilante causes by exposing the corrupt heroes that dwells behind the scenes of the hero society, taking down something as big as the hero commission will possibly cause a tsunami and leave behind collateral damage. So to stop the carnage before it happened, they caught their darling slipping last minute and used it to stop them. Ever since then the vigilante has be under near constant surveillance by the two heroes ( and possibly more-- ). But enough about that, what's life like with the EraserMic fam and their little anti-hero?

P.S. If you can't tell, the darling quirk has a lot to do with water. She can manipulate water, her voice can enchant and control others, and she can even turn into a mermaid.

Yandere Erasermic family x Reader!

Tw: Blood, mentions of Abuse, Threats of violence, graphic violence, mentioned cheating, unhealthy obsessions, Death, Murder scenes, and more if you aren't comfortable with these types of stuff don't read, please

"THEYRE RIGHT THERE" one Hero ordered the police as they chased down the person with the white fox mask down the alleyway carrying a suitcase, not long before they found the body of Fire Ranger The famous pro hero that can shoot fireballs out of his body

he was discovered in what recently seemed to be a flooded basement hands and feet chained up connected to a ball and his skin was covered in blisters and scald burns, the only thing the culprit left out was a single video posted on his phone on his Social media labeled "the truth of a filthy hero" Aizawa grabbed his phone and searched up video and decided to watch it

the video showed the hero, hitting his poor girlfriend until bruises showed yelling at her calling her cruel and disgusting names, saying awful and pretty offensive statements in public at times, and a video of him with multiple women touching and flirting with him while they all make cruel jokes about his girlfriend the video was labeled "is this the hero you root for?" With a single smile

the smell and the video were so sickening that the cops had to run outside the house to puke it was such a disturbing site...

Aizawa couldn't believe his eyes who would've done such a horrific act he didn't care for heroes ofc but was making up theories of who could've been, it quickly stopped when he saw a figure running from the crime scene with a suitcase in hand and that's how they ended up here

Shouta aimed their capture weapon towards them and shot but the focus mask completely dodged it with their swift movement, the chase went on and on until the perpetrator later climbed onto the roof and sprinted away he watched I'm shocked and angry "crap..." he said simply irritated "Sir what should do now we have to follow them!" A female officer spoke out to the hero whilst replying with a huff, "retreat they got away" he nonchalantly said as he slowly walked past them defeated once again

Later that night Aizawa was in his office observing the files of the now 5 cases in his hands he looked closely to see every one of them all single their deaths it's been their 5th top hero death in the past 6 months and nobody seemed to be knowing who would've done it observes more trying to see the pattern of these deaths and why they were killing top pro heroes ever since the 3 pro hero's has been confirmed dead publicly the hero society started to collapse...

You watched from above on a roof with chaotic glee, popcorn in hand while some kids started to vandalize the statue of Striker, another pro hero who got killed a month ago, drawing dick shapes onto its forehead, the word liar onto its chest, and a clown makeup planted straight onto their face while making cruel jokes at her, after a while they walked away proud of their work

You climbed down to examine the masterpiece the boys did "It's such a shame how such a pretty face was just a mask to hide what you are~" you teased at the statue as If she was standing right there glaring daggers at you, oh how you remembered the way her prideful smile dropped as you showed her pictures of her bullying and harassing her employers, never giving the hardest worker the deserved pay, and overworking them to the core where some of them committed suicide due to the constant bullying.

The way she pleaded with her life the same way her victims did when she was all high and mighty as you kept dunking her head into the water until the point she was coughing and throwing up water the way she finally took her last breath looking at you with the fear in those eyes it made your spirit flare up in some sort of sickening and gleefully sensation

After that, you decided it was time to go back to your hideout so you went to plan your next attack after all a big day was waiting for you! And you needed to get ready!

Days after Fire Ranger got exposed for his wrongdoings and announced dead, the citizens grew more suspicious and resentful of the heroes..., most of them would shame them for "hiring such disgusting people", you giggled at the fact that citizens were now making up rumors and theories that the hero commission was only hiring people with higher power and look it became so bad that the citizens were now Booimg harassing other famous heroes to the point they had to take a long mental break and on the brint to quitting

"Shouta, baby you've been in your office for the whole afternoon hour, Eri has been worried about ya, " Hizashi said with a plate of a cream baegal and some dark coffee with a cream heart on top just the way he likes it, he planted a kiss on the man's cheek he looked over and formed a small smile and sighed "It's just that it's been months and the culprit hasn't been found yet, 5 deaths in six months and we don't even have any evidence, clues or even a single suspect of who's doing it"

Aizawa laid his head on the desk in exhaustion mic was about to say something but noticed something like some sort of pattern...he moved shouta grabbed the files and looked closely and his eyes widened "Hizashi I know what the killer goal is..." hiszaahi looked up at him strangely his eyebrow raised "You know how every time every victim isn't innocent here right ?" Hiszashi nodded interested to hear him out "And every time we get there a video is posted on their account showing their true colors and dark intentions right?"

They both stared at eachother intensity when shouta said the final part

"The killer isn't after Heros just innocent heroes... They're after the corrupted ones. ...And they're getting their background information"

...

"COME BACK HERE YOU BITCH!" The villain shouted as he and other groups of criminals chased after her, woman shuddered at the booming voice as she ran, turning and twisting in any direction while panting heavily and sobbing she shakenly grabbed her phone trying to ring the police but a bullet shot the phone making the glass shatter in her face She yelped, bits if glass piercing through her face but continued running as her legs ache and her remaining adrenaline supported her

She quickly ran to the alley where she was met with a dead-end she frustrating cried out as she dropped to her knees the villain leader and his goons chuckled darkly as they cornered her she scattered and backed away, the villain then grabbed her harshly by the arm meeting an evil grin plastered on his face, "you gave us quite the chase there kid I must admit" his other hand grabbed her chin harshly and yanked it making her look at him "but you and father already made a deal and you belong to me now" "FUCK YOU!" The girl spit at the villain's face

In anger, he threw the girl down hard making her sprain her arm and grabbed a knife in his pocket and pinned her by her neck against the wall shoving the knife into her mouth "I had enough of that filthy mouth of yours why don't we cut off that little tongue of yours the girl's eyes widen as she closed her eyes ready for the pain coming to her...

until she suddenly felt his grip loosen and a thud seeing a hole in his chest as he collapsed lifelessly, the other goons started freaking out aiming their weapons and quirks waving them everywhere until another water-like arrow shot another goon in the head, "WHAT THE WHATS GOING ON!?" As one goon question as the others started panicking out there minds, "I should be asking the same thing you scums"

Behind them was a fox-masked figure holding what seemed to be a spear made of water, the goons backed up and aimed their weapons at them but the fox-masked giggled "This was way too easy your leader was such a pain I swear wish I could've tortured him..." she said as she rolled her eyes "but Oh well! Anyways can you hand me that girl please just throw her towards me and no one gets hurt"

the goons all glared daggered until one goon signal another and decided to be extreme and grabbed the injured girl and put a knife around her neck she squealed in pain as the knife pressed into her neck "TAKE ONE MOVE AND THE BITCH GETS IT" he grinned sadistically the fox masked yawned unamused at the man's threat "can you villains say anything original these days? Thats such a cringe statement"

You then disappeared into a puddle of water, the goon was confused and alarmed they all aimed their weapons in every direction, the fox-masked jumped out of another puddle, and stab the goon behind holding the girl she was then dropped onto the floor and scattered towards the wall behind you with all her energy, goons started getting angry and started to attack out of fear and anger charging towards you but a bullet has met their heads before they could even touch you, up on the roof was a rabbit-masked person with a sniper,

you and Homura then savagely killed each of the goons one by one trying to leave no one behind a goon then tackled you from behind and pulled off your mask "Y/N!" Homura called out and aimed her gun at the goon and shot the man directly in the head falling on top of you, "thanks" you pushed the body off, quickly putting back on your mask and cleaning yourself up, all there was left was 2 shivering goons and a shivering injured girl Homura went up to the scared girl and started confronting her while you could take care the last two "and then there was two~" the two goons flinched at your teasing voice you smiled sadistically as you held your weapon up ready to attack them until you heard footstep...

Hero footsteps

"THIS IS THE HERO ASSOCIATION GROUP PUT YOUR HANDS UP"

"Fuck.. and I was having the best for last..." you whined feeling defeated "COME ON WE DONT HAVE ANY TIME" Homura yelled you quickly put on your mask as Homura summoned a portal and the two of you disappeared,

when the pros and police went around the corner they were all met with a very gruesome scene..they later arrested the two goons and let the teenage girl call her grandma while the police investigating one of the police found a hair...

A single h/c hair...

"Whew, that was fun!" You said exciting out the portal and into your and Homura's secret hideout, you and Homura decorated the hideout that used to be an abandoned modern house everyone ignored the two of you stayed and lived in that hideout for years making plans and more the hideout "and dangerous you could've gotten us caught you know that right that villain pulled off your mask revealing your identity!" You rolled her eyes at her "But we killed the dude and the other two goons are in jail so they can't do anything we'll be fine" You brushed her off but she was still glaring at you anyways I'm gonna go plan another assassination!

"We already took down 5 isn't that enough?!" Homura glared as you were once again researching for your next victim "I know but I'm feeling a bit confident these past months they haven't caught us now and they never will" Homura groaned at her friend's stupidity checking who were you gonna target next untill you heard a faint knock on the door

The Both of you froze and stared at each then back at the door Homura signaled you to the portal she summoned when you were about to take the 1st step the door was smashed open revealing a few pro heroes and police officers yelling at the two of you to put your hands in the air you were about to activate your quirk until a red-winged hero held a leather like sword on your neck "I wouldn't do that if I were you kid~" you glanced at the man and suddenly started smiling

"Ah you right I should have I'm sorry" You caught the hero off guard in time to turn around and kick him in his groin he grunted in pain while you started running towards the exit Homura urged you to come on but you were wrapped around in strong like fabric on you, "ILL COME BACK Y/N!" Homura said as she quickly went into the portal you watched sadly but were glad she escaped "y/n you are now being detained the handled by the police you're coming with us" the man with long black and red eyes said as you were escorted with quirk cancelation cuffs and into the police car

At the police station, you were questioned by a lot of police officers, they were surprised when they found out about your age "A fourteen-year-old!?" One police officer examined the picture making sure that was true "How can a 14-year-old be able to kill 5 of our top heroes in 6 months!?!" Another said shocked "And their quirk is really strong so their skills are above average than the average teenager"

officer Tsukaucki and his colleagues started talking and bickering about what were they gonna do with you while they investigated, they couldn't put you in jail the hero society would've gone on a hunting spree to try and free someone as young as you, and villains would've tracked you down so their hands were tied at the moment, so they had one remaining option...

While you were sitting in one of the waiting rooms for criminals hawks were in charge of watching you which you disliked but kept quiet you noticed how the red-winged hero was staring at you for a long time "I'll be right back" as he went to the vending machine getting two drinks one some iced coffee and an f/d (fav drink) walked over and handed the Drink to you, you stared for a moment as he calm smiled at you, you silently thanked him and slowly took opened it taking a sip,

it was refreshing at least..

the two of you started making conversation about goals dreams weird stuff just anything honestly keigo noticed how you were very secretive with certain stuff but he didn't care it was kinda of nice talking to people and it feels kinda nice honestly...

"Y/n l/n" a voice called the two hawks escorted you out of the waiting room there you met a giant rat or mouse creature wearing a suit and tie with a permanent scar on his eye he smiled warmly at you "So is this the culprit? She seemed so young mr Tsukauchi?"

"Yes, this a the culprit behind the deaths Mr Nezu we are still under investigation at the moment and we dont know what to do with the girl " Tsukauchi exclaimed nezu walked closer to you and examined you for a moment looking you for a moment and writing something down "now tell me what is her quirk? " "Water manipulation sir she can also change the temperature of the water and add pressure onto it and can make weapons out of her water"

Mr. Nezu smiled brightly as he was impressed "ok I think I may my decision" he said as you looked up at him "L/n San I'm gonna give you two choices on what to do with you" You glanced up at him with a blank expression "you'll be in watchful of the pro heroes pro heroes with having to go to UA for your rehabilitation process or you can go to juvie that's islands away from Tokyo with very great security until you are trailed as an adult choose wisely my dear" he said still in a gentle bright tone

You glared at him you wanted to protest how you were doing the right thing but you knew you weren't gonna have any freedom if you picked the 2nd option so in a quiet tone

"I pick the 1st choice" Nezu smiled brightly again "Wonderful! I'll go make a quick phone with a dear friend Of mine they already have 2 wonderful children you won't be that lonely! while the police will gather up your stuff! See you next week!" Nezu gave you a quick wave as you were escorted into the waiting room again

While you waited for your fate to come to started making conversation with Hawks more he was a pretty chill guy in your opinion kinda funny too but you didn't trust him at all just wanted company

"Eraserhead! So pleasure to meet you!" Nezu greeted the tried underground hero "It better be good nezu" Aizawa said "Well we caught the culprit! And it's a 14-year-old teen" Aizawa's eyes widen choking on his drink "A what?" "Yes yes, a 14-year-old They are very skilled and their quirk is fairly powerful water manipulation was their quirk" Aizawa couldn't believe his ears at the moment how could someone that young take down 5 of the best pro heroes? "And we decided they're going to stay with you and your family for the time being!"

"What..."

After a bit of convicting and deals with Nezu he reluctantly agreed he called Mic and asked if they had a spare bedroom and thank God they did, after signing some papers and agreement forms they gave you your stuff and gave you to him you were his and his husband's responsibility now...

The drive back to your new "home" was silent Aizawa processing everything like he just decided to take care of a vigilante teenager when they pulled up at the house he broke the silence "We're here" You glanced outside of the car window, outside was a fairly big house not so big but not small either just big enough to keep like a family of 5 in there and there was a small little garden in the front with pretty flowers

When the two of you walked to the doorstep you could hear a little girl giggling inside with cats meowing "You have cats?" You glanced at the pro "Yes 4 of them 2 girls and 2 boys is there a problem are you allergic?" You nodded your head sideways the two of you made it to the front door he glanced at you for a moment "You ready?" You took a deep breath and nodded

The door slowly opened and you were meeting with a very cozy environment the house looked very clean and tidy the living room was filled with some dolls a console under the TV stand and a cat sleeping on the couch "Shouta!! Your home" you were then met with a man with long blonde hair tied into a bun with an apron with cats on it the man over and kissed shouta on the cheek and then he met your gaze "Oh hello! You must be y/n aren't you?" He then a warm smile plastered on his face he took his hand out to shake as you were a bit hesitant to

"I... I know you might be a bit nervous cause you're going to be living with a bunch of random people for a "different" reason" but that doesn't mean me and my husband are gonna treat you any different than my kids!" he reassured you making you calmed down a bit "speaking of the kids! Hitoshi Eri come down here for a second!" Two kids were later revealed to you one with long white hair and red eyes with a red dress and boots and another kid that was close to your age with lavender hair with a white t-shirt and pants

"Now this little lady right here is y/n she will be living with us from now on!" Eri then did a small little wave with a shy smile as you did the same while Hitoshi lazily waved at you as well "Hi!" "Hey.." they both said as you did the same "now why don't you give y/n a house tour! While me and your father make dinner " The girl smiled brightly as she took your hand and excitedly leading you up the stairs shinsou following behind them as the couple chuckled to themselves

For the past 5 days you have been living with the eraser-mic family your bonds with each other got stronger each day

Aizawa can relate to you on a certain level so he doesn't judge you completely, honestly the more he spends time with you the more he thinks you are his kid, Aizawa would watch detective movies or investigation channels when everyone else sleeps on the couch with a half sleep dad and his very talkative child talking over the show and making theories but he doesn't mind, he prob would teach you a thing or two about the types of flowers in their backyard are they and do little scavenger hunts for you Shinso and eri to make yall bond a bit, he would also throw in random cat facts of the day whether be weird, funny or even disgusting

When your walk out the street if anyone looks at you the wrong way or talking he's sends a death glare in there way, when you comfortable enough he would give you hat pats here and there and

Hizashi would make you watch him cook and even let you help him at times! Which makes his heart warm he would practically do group hugs with his children always including you in it no leaving you out he loves to watch over each of his children whether be playing dolls with Eri or gaming with Shinsou even if you just doing nothing he watches over you and never gets bored he's the type of parent to even watch his children when he sleeps, he teaches you how to garden certain stuff like strawberries, raspberries, just anything you like!

But there are times when he can be overbearing when one of the sassy cats accidentally scratches you and Hizashi kinda freaks out running to get a band-aid and kissing it, he LOVES to spoil his kids so don't be surprised when he comes back with your favorite things!, Is very clingy he would give you big bear hugs

Shinsou was a bit suspicious of you at 1st didn't trust you at 1st but when you found out he was playing your favorite video game that's how the two of you bonded over each other, Shinsou and you would pull small pranks at the family, like swapping salt with sugar, making hizaahi accidentally dyed your hair and recording and the both of you laughed, he's very protective of his sister so seeing you and Eri get a lot makes his heart warm, if you ever tried to sneak and do something he would be a snitch or not it depends, very protective of you as well will glare at anyone you talked to

Eri is just the cutest of all she is just so excited that another girl is in the house she would beg you to wear her dresses (even tho they're too small) and do little tea parties with caramel(one of the cats) Shinsou and her, she loves to go put the garden and tells you all about the flowers and how pretty they are, heck even one day she saw a flower that looks just like you and said your as beautiful as this flower (it was a weed) but let's just say you kept it in your room for a while

And then there was the 1st day of school you had to wear a different type of uniform (basically a UA uniform but a bit darker like a darker gray basically)

Aizawa and Hizashi wanted to make your 1st day of school amazing so Hizashi made you your favorite lunch and snack with a sticky note saying "Have a great 1st day of school!" While Aizawa was giving you some simple rules-a-day tips about his classmates

1. No talking about vigilante stuff infront of them

2. No dating untill 34

3. Stay with Shinso at all times

4. Don't ever try to talk off the quirk canceling cuffs unless you have training (but don't worry you have good combat training even without your quirk)

5. If any of the classmates start bothering you let him know and etc

6. When we go in this building reframe to me and Hizashi as Mic and Mr. Aizawa or Sensei or present Mic

"And no dissing the Ua security system or telling anyone how to hack them," he said sternly looking at you "Aw but Mr shouta they do suck-" "I know the w kid but just brace with me here" he huffed "Fineeeee" You whined Mr Shouta wasn't any fun

Shinsou sadly couldn't walk you to your class because the two of you were gonna be in different classes but he told you to let him know if a grape dude came up to you flirting with you

When you arrived at the school you were gawked about how big the school was and groaned when you realized you had to walk "do this school have any elevators?" "No unfortunately we're gonna have to walk" "UGHHHUUH-"

When the rest of you got out of the car Nezu was in front of the entrance with a smile that looked a bit too excited "Ah y/n welcome! Why dont you follow me to your class" Nezu said leading you and Aizawa away, Eri, Hizashi, and Shinsou waved bye to you while eri held mic's hand

When the 3 of you were heading to class a couple of students looked at you with mixed expressions, some scared, some in envy, and some in awe at your appearance, but you didn't think any about it and just kept walking, you arrived at your class you stared up at the sign for a bit ignoring nezu's guide to the school untill he gently put a hand on your shoulder

"You ready to come in?" Nezu and Aizawa both stared at you for your answer You mentally prepared yourself and nodded, the door slid open as you walked into the class, the classmates were now silent and were now on you "Class please welcome our newest addition to the class please introduce yourself" you mentally rolled your eyes and placed yourself in the middle

"Hello my name is y/n l/n and im a proud vigilante and my quirk is water manipulation" "Wonderful! Now you go have a seat behind yaoyorozu san!" Then a girl with a ponytail raised her hand up as you walked towards your seat you felt every eye on you which made you uncomfortable momo gave you a little wave and you did the same

At lunch, you searched around to sit and you saw Shinso you walked towards him and sat at his table "Hey loser have fun " he teased you rolled your eyes "Ugh no class was so boring, I met with a couple of students a green hair, a frog girl, some girl with pink skin and some hot head blonde, was annoying me trying to me it was so overwhelming and your dad (hizashi) was so embarrassed waving to me with that cheesy grin on his face" shinso chuckled laughing at your "suffering "Well dad can be embrassing but he means well just at the wrong time"

It was training time and it was probably one of your favorite class periods, exercising was a piece of cake, and sparing oh SPARRING was the absolute favor you were up against the the boy who fried his brain every time he used his quirk named Denki he gave you a little wink which you rolled your eyes, everyone else staring at the two of you wondering what was gonna happen

"Sorry if I hurt you too bad princess~," he said as he blew a kiss at you, you faked a gag finding it funny while Aizawa glared at him causing Denki to gulp nervously, as the sparing began you lifted Denki the air and slammed him down you saw put him in several positions making him plead for mercy everyone else eyes were admired and were mesmerized by your skills that's when they all knew they wanted to get to know you by the end of the day

Timeskip cause I'm damn lazy asf

At the end of class, you quickly went into Aizawas car where the rest were waiting for you "Hey y/n how was school" You looked over to the two heroes Eri smiling at you with a candy apple in hand while Shinsou smiled eating up all the cute expressions you were making (as siblings shinsou is platonic) "...it was crazy"

Shouta, Hizashi, and Shinsou all snickered while you glared at all of them and eri was munching away at her treat "so how about we go out huh? "To celebrate your 1st day at school" eri smiled as she clapped her hands excitedly in her car seat "I wanna go to the {preferred restaurant}!" "Ah ah eri you picked last week lets give y/n a go!, so y/n what kind of restaurant you wanna go"

You stopped for a second and thought about it now realizing this was your fate for now you were gonna stay with a crazy family with a bunch of crazy students from now on you then blur out the answer "yea that restaurant seems nice.."

Shouta and Hizashi already had a strong bond with you, they already considered you as part of the family even Shinsou and Eri agreed they loved their new sister/daughter you were the family light in their life!

[thewertsearch]

Anonymous asked: youve finally gotten to the section of the comic that makes me tear up everytime i read it! vriska is such a polarizing character but i have nothing but empathy for her. i do think she cares about her friends, even if shes awful at showing it and her attempts do more harm than good. Specifically i DO think she cares about karkat- she shows a begrudging respect for him throughout the comic and even says he maybe is the most human of them, which is something she is starting to admire herself even if she wont admit it. I think if vriska didnt care about the others in her sad, warped-by-child-abuse way, things would be much different. Jack bringing the bodies back and her being visibly enraged by it- i think thats grief. more than that i just find her quest to kill jack so sad. It really reveals to me how fucked up she is- she repeats so many times that she knows survival is unlikely, that she knows her immortality wont save her, but that its something she needs to do anyways. Vriska isnt actively suicidal- but shes passively okay with dying if its in a way where she can accomplish her goals. She wanted to be absolved of all the bad things shed done (even if thats not how it works). And- just as much- she wanted to save her friends. and terezi. The person who wants to not be a killer anymore but goes down the path anyway because the timeline says she must, because her own lack of a future is breathing down her neck. Who was the person vriska cares about most on that meteor, even if she is horrible at showing it. Terezi is the one to kill her. They were best friends! They were both thirteen years old! And its narrated by the man who literally groomed vriska and who she views as being a predator to her!!!! Most heartbreaking death she couldve gotten. Fly high in those dream bubbles queen

Maybe I spoke too soon, when I asserted that Vriska probably didn't give a shit about Karkat. They might not have had many on-panel interactions, but they were co-players for over six hundred hours. We can't say definitively that they didn't bond at all.

I guess the issue here is that the trolls' social group consists of sixty-six unique relationships, and we simply don't have time to explore them all. We know that each troll isn't necessarily buddies with every other troll in the group, and I could list plenty of pairs that almost certainly aren't friends. I can't imagine that Nepeta was particularly pally with Eridan, for example, and I don't think Aradia and Gamzee were hanging out offscreen.

All that said - if any troll is friends with the entire group, it's probably Karkat. His only real conversation with Vriska was that argument about quadrants on LOPAH, but there was a moment in one of the walkarounds where she agreed to put her plans on hold for his sake, which was a surprisingly kind gesture for her. Plus, you're right, she does think he'd cut it better as a human - and that statement hits differently when you remember she's low-key jealous of humanity.

As for Scratch... yeah, his treatment of Vriska, specifically, is nothing short of disturbing. She clearly hated it whenever he showed up to text her...

...and, uh, now that I'm actually thinking about it, the guy only ever seems to manipulate girls. The only male Player he's even spoken to was Karkat, and that was only three sentences. This guy was born from a nightmare - and he certainly acts like it, the creep.

[letteredlettered]

I'm disturbed by the number of de-aging fics I've read where the adult caretaker of the one who is de-aged feels the need to discipline the de-aged one, or "teach them manners," or "make them" do things like clean up their toys or eat their vegetables or go to bed on time, or help them understand that they should apologize if they are "naughty."

This never seems to be a commentary on the fact that the adult caretaker is in fact a bad caretaker who is unable to assess what a child needs in a given situation. The texts always seems to imply, heavily, that this is in fact a good caretaker because they are setting boundaries and providing the child with necessary lessons. It always comes across as though we the readers are meant to feel "look at this responsible adult!"

Instead it reads like the adult doesn't understand children and doesn't know what to do with them. It reads as though the writer thinks disciplining children and making them clean up and making them apologize is just something you do with children; it's just what children need; it's just what children are for.

No.

We do those things with children because it can help them be healthy, develop good habits, and get along with others in life. In a de-aging fic, the de-aged person is already an adult. They've either learned these lessons or they haven't, so there is no reason to teach them now. If the adult caretaker has a problem with the adult version of the de-aged character, they should be taking that up with the adult version and not the child. Taking it up with the child is pointless, since it's the adult version that's the problem; it also feels manipulative, since people consider children malleable while they think adults aren't. It sounds like you're trying to change the child because you couldn't change the adult, which I find kind of disgusting.

An adult de-aged to a child is a fantasy/sci fi concept that cannot happen in real life as far as we know it. They don't have the same needs as children. They wouldn't need life lessons or to learn how to function in an adult world.

When you think about what he only thing a de-aged child would need is the same comfort and safety anyone would need in an unfamiliar situation in which they might not be able to care for themselves. So in those situation there are physical needs--safety, food, shelter, etc--and emotional needs. As far as emotional needs, most kids would be feeling alone and scared at suddenly being thrust into a world with which their not familiar; they need someone who makes them feel safe, whom they feel they can trust. Building trust with a kid is hard, but you don't do it by making them go to bed on time; you do it by listening to what they say and taking them seriously; you do it by not acting like you know best because you actually don't, unless a kid wants to do something that will literally risk their physical safety.

So no. The adult caretaker in such a fic does not need to make a kid take a bath, even if they are filthy. If the kid wants to go to bed filthy they can, and the adult caretaker can wash the sheets. If the kid doesn't sleep well because the dirt irritates them, they'll get up and want to wash or they will be grumpy the next day. If they are grumpy ask them what would make them feel better and try to give it to them. If that doesn't make them less grumpy that is also fine; at least they don't have some random adult trying to put them in their place because that's where children belong.

tl;dr children do not exist to be controlled they should be loved. put it in your de-aging fics pass it on