#there was so much other filth too but most of it is filed away now

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

because of the way I plan my fics (with post it notes), and because I haven’t fully tidied up from planning ISoM… there’s been a post-it note with “Footlicking and CBT” stuck to the coffee table for a week. I have very tolerant flatmates, lmao

[aereasrage]

The Favorite pt. 3

summary: Most curiously, princess reader’s children seem to bear a striking resemblance to a certain prince who is not her husband…

cw: codependent mother-daughter relationship yk the drill, pregnancy, childbirth, religion, gaslighting, incest, masturbation, blasphemy, unprotected sex (i feel like that might be redundant because is there any other way to fuck in medieval times?), jace and reader being westerosi romeo and juliet

notes: honestly, the ages in hotd are so confusing that most of the charts/breakdowns i’ve seen make very little sense so for the purpose of this fic, i’ve just decided to age everyone up a lil so jace is intended to be around 19-20 years old as is reader. also for jace x reader purposes, rhaenyra never left for dragonstone, though her and daemon still married and had their children.

part 1 | part 2

word count: 4.1k

Each time you were pregnant, Alicent found herself so filled with worry that she went to the sept daily to pray. She spent much of her time at your side, sharply commanding the servants to care for you in a way which would meet her meticulous qualifications. She wore her hair braided up simply, her clothing free of embellishment save for her golden seven pointed star; appealing to the Mother in humility, not to take her daughter away from her.

You were with child again, your third. Your marriage to Aegon had indeed been fruitful, for you were blessed with two sons, Aemon and Baelon. Both born healthy and squalling with...dark brown hair. But though Alicent had been briefly taken aback by how your sons looked, she quickly regained her composure. She would not dare suspect you of being anything but loyal to Aegon. She rationalized any unsavory possibilities away, for there was no reality she could fathom in which you would be unfaithful to Aegon, no reality in which you would stray from your mother's guidance so much. She had even watched you complete your duty with resignation and obedience, how could she ever see her sweet daughter as being a whore?

Alicent had been at your side throughout your labors, too anxious to be anywhere else. When she had seen you hold your firstborn son in your arms, teary eyed and thanking the Mother, she knew could never think so poorly of you. Your face, she was certain, was the very image of the Mother.

Rhaenyra, however, was not convinced. The way her eldest son looked at you, seemingly gripped in a trance when you were near, the way his hands twitched slightly whenever you were within grasp coupled with your children being born looking exactly as her three brown haired boys did...it was quite funny to her, honestly. So much grief over her sons and now with you having what were obviously her grandchildren, not a single word. She liked you well enough and obviously she had no intentions of putting her own grandsons in danger but she simply wasn't going to let the situation rest without pointing out the hypocrisy.

At the end of a small council meeting, the lords filed out of the room but Rhaenyra stayed behind, her gaze fixed on Alicent. As the room emptied, Alicent begrudgingly stayed behind as well, having a vague sense of what would come next.

"I wished to congratulate you on becoming a grandmother once more," Rhaenyra started. "Though I do wonder if this will be the time my sweet sister bears a child who resembles her husband."

Alicent drew a sharp breath, steeling herself. Immediate anger would only draw further insult. "What you insinuate is filth."

Rhaenyra could only laugh at how deeply Alicent's delusion went. "Come now, Alicent. Even a lackwit could answer the question of your grandsons' parentage. I seem to remember your mind being sharp enough to make suppositions on the father of my sons. Have you not opened yourself up to this?"

"My daughter is a good wife. She is not so slattern to find herself in bed with your...son while being married to mine." Alicent restrained herself from saying what she truly wished. She would not stoop so low and open herself and her daughter to attack.

"Really, Alicent, how long do you think you can keep this up? Who do you believe you're fooling?"

"Their grandsire's hair was dark brown in his youth, my daughter's hair is an auburn, a reddish brown just as mine is," Alicent stated indignantly and all Rhaenyra could do was stare blankly back at her. This couldn't possibly be the woman so fixated on the truth of her sons’ paternity, couldn't possibly be the great devout of the seven, the woman devoted to the virtues of duty and honor and sacrifice. She wasn't sure why it surprised her so much, it wasn't as if she didn't know those spiteful fanatics were all hypocrites. But somehow, given the way Alicent was with her children, she believed that she'd at least have shame enough to try and cover it up, have the children fostered away from King's Landing, stripped of their names, forgotten. Instead, Alicent was standing more firmly on her daughter's virtue and the parentage of her grandchildren than even Rhaenyra had for her boys. Even Rhaenyra did not fool herself as Alicent did.

She had originally planned to offer a marriage again, thinking that Alicent would be tempted to concede this time but seeing that look in her eyes made her second guess. Alicent was truly too madly in love with her youngest daughter to acknowledge what was right before her. She would never agree to annul the marriage between her and Aegon, she'd never sacrifice her daughter's virtue in the eyes of others even if it would spare all of them the grief of perpetually silencing the tongues that would wag at the sight of Aegon's brown haired sons. She believed in her daughter’s absolute perfection and she’d hear nothing that contradicted it, even if it was meant to help her. Rhaenyra left the room, there was clearly nothing more to say if this was how Alicent insisted on handling things.

Your mother believed you to be immaculate. Your siblings followed suit. If Aegon himself had any doubts as to your loyalty, he did not feel them worth speaking. You got the feeling all that mattered to him was keeping your affection. When he entered your chambers for the first time since you had gone into labor, as you held Aemon, rocking him gently to sleep; Aegon envied the child who, after taking over your body for so many moons, was taking his place in your arms until you commented on how like him the babe was. You had been thinking of him as you looked down at your son, it occurred to Aegon that you’d always think of him when you saw your son. Although the head of dark brown hair sent a wave of confusion through him, he believed in your love of him more than he believed his eyes. How could you be untrue to him? You spent most of your time outside of him in the sept or with your mother or sister, helping mind her children. Aemon and Baelon were his sons, two little creatures who served as symbols of your lasting love of him. How could they not be his with the affection you gave to them? With how lovingly you stroked their heads and dubbed them “as willful as their father”?

To everyone, you were the image of an exemplary wife, daughter and princess. You went to the sept at night before you went to bed, to pray to the mother, to thank her for the health of your children. You cared for your children until the late hours of the night. Unlike your parents and siblings, you slept in the same chambers as your sullen, drunkard husband most of the time and brought him cheer as well as incentive to behave himself at least somewhat. You obeyed your mother, brought comfort to your sister and served the realm with a stiff upper lip.

But while there was truth to your reputation, there was also truth to Rhaenyra’s interpretation of you. Your mother may have thought you to be “not so slattern as Rhaenyra,” but the truth was that you were exactly as slattern as her. When you visited the sept at night, with your ladies waiting outside the door, as you “wished to feel the presence of the Mother unfettered,” you were actually meeting Jace who compelled you there each night.

That night, Jace parted himself from the shadows of the sept as he watched you trail in. “How lovely you look, you almost seem pure in the light of the sept,” he grinned. “Don’t tease, my prince,” you huff. Jace watched you cross the room to meet him, his eyes fixed on you steadfastly. He’d said it in jest, but it was true, you looked the very image of innocence, it was not a wonder you were able to have his children without consequence. His hands went to your small bump as you closed the distance between the two of you. Another of his children.

A surge of jealousy went through him each time he remembered his children were being called sons of Aegon. It filled him with the urge to stake a claim to you. He would have you for his wife someday, he would have his children at hand, his heirs. But not tonight. Tonight, all that he could have was your body and in reparation, he fully intended to take his fill.

He brought you to your knees before the altar, lighting a candle before hiking up your dress behind you. “You must have told your mother you’ve come here to pray. We mustn’t disappoint her,” he murmured as his hand reached into your smallclothes. “I shall lead you in your prayers, aunt. We both have much to repent for.”

He was unsurprised to find you wet but it still brought about a low groan of satisfaction. Evidence between his fingers of his hold on you. You could feel him stiff against your back. “Start with the Mother, she’s blessed you most, hasn’t she?” His voice, slightly breathy with ill concealed arousal, sent a thrill straight down to your cunt which squeezed around nothing as Jace continued to gently stroke your clit. “Gentle mother…comfort of all our ills…” you began, taking a shuddering breath as you tried to concentrate on humoring Jace.

He tsked. “You’ve become so slack in your orisons, what would your mother say?” his touch becoming slightly firmer, only just barely quicker, more desperate. “Gentle mother, comfort of all our ills, thank you for our children. Protect them in your arms, despite our hubris and forgive us our lusts. Grant us your mercy.”

You swallowed a desperate cry and continued. “Father above, may you…” your thighs quivered, you were fighting the urge to simply lean back into Jace. “May you judge us justly, give our family the strength to find justice for those who would harm us.”

Jace kissed your temple, a soft gesture that felt almost befitting of such a place. “That is a lovely wish, it becomes you, aunt. Now what shall you beg of the Warrior?” His hips had started to brush against your back gently in rhythm, seeking to quell his already drooling cock straining against the confines of his breeches.

“Brave Warrior, should ever our realm come to war again, may our men be loyal and brave enough to protect us…” you slurred out quickly, the entirety of your focus narrowed down to Jace’s fingers which pulled back every time you pushed your hips forward seeking relief. The worst part was that he was so tightly pressed to you that any movement you made drew a pleasured sound from him, even as you struggled for more of his touch. “Bring our realm to victory…Jace, please.”

He laughed behind you, seeming to have genuine fun teasing you. “We’re not done.” He slid two fingers inside easily, taking a painfully long time to work up to a speed that made you squirm. An unintended moan broke free and Jace paused his ministrations, tugging your hair gently so that you'd turn to meet his gaze. "If you cannot even be quiet in a place of worship, I'll stop." There was a flicker of humor in his eyes but his face was a mask of seriousness.

You nodded obediently, silently cursing him for not being too horny to keep up this strict septon act. You leaned forward for a kiss but Jace evaded you, cupping your cheek in his free hand. "You have more prayers to recite, sweet aunt."

You groaned softly. "I pray for the protection of the maid, should my child be a princess...I pray that you would protect her innocence, keep her safe. I beg forgiveness for my own sins against your domain...for....for I have allowed myself to be seduced."

"And the Crone?" Jace intoned, softly amused at the state he was working you into.

"From the Crone...I beg for guidance, I plead her wisdom to help me overcome temptation." That one made Jace grin, you could hear it in his voice.

"You may beg for her wisdom but I believe you've already made up your mind." This time he let you roll your hips forward into his hand, matching the pace of his fingers as you sought attention for your neglected clit. He even brought your face back to his for a long kiss.

Suddenly, he pulled your small clothes off entirely, shredding them to rags. You braced yourself on the altar, your fingers sticking in the warm, dripping wax of the melting candles. Jace spread your legs with his knees. When he saw the way you were wet down to the inside of your thighs, he could only moan. "Gods," he murmured, it was a shame he didn't have the time to eat your cunt out properly and fuck you. His cock jolted slightly in his pants as he spread you out to admire you fully.

"Don't...." you whimpered, hurting for his cock inside you at last.

"Don't what? Don't admire what a mess you've made, aunt? Don't tell you that your cunt is begging me to use it again?" Jace laughed.

You screwed your eyes shut, bowing your head as you knelt, waiting for him, utterly defeated. In a place where the gods paid thrice as much attention, you were to bear witness to your own moral turpitude. Jace always loved that moment, when your frantic desire and guilt for the values your mother instilled converged; when your heart ached at the depravity of your own actions but you still knew that desire would win, as it always did and always would. You would almost try to hide from your own wanting, surely your mother had also taught you it was unseemly for a woman to have such hungers but that, obviously, did not draw them back from whence they came. In your heart of hearts, you knew you were born hungry and wanting, Jace was the only one who would allow you all that you could devour.

Such a beautiful sight. It was only then that he slid his cock inside, a surprised cry leaving your pretty mouth when he was only half inside. He paused just as you clapped a hand over your mouth, head still bowed in silent prayer that he should not decide to stop. Mercifully, he didn't. Couldn't, rather. He was sure it would have killed him to stop. He began to push deep into you, meeting slight resistance from the tight space despite how many times you'd taken it. A pleasant sting came about as he stretched you out slowly. As he entered you fully, it came to mind to rub your clit as it throbbed for attention but you simply couldn't. You were stalled, miring in the overwhelming sensitivity of that moment.

Every detail, every curve, vein and divot of his cock was gliding right over the tender spot inside that made you want to weep. You were too sensitive and pent up for so long, it happened every time, you got too close to the edge too quickly. Your breaths came quick and shallow, your brain going to madness. It took so few strokes for you to come undone that Jace himself was not even at the edge yet. You muffled your cries in your hand, your cunt all but fluttering around Jace's cock. A few stray tears ran down your face as Jace gently forced your head up again so that he could admire your expression. "Too fucking easy," he said but so softly it did not even sound mean.

You tentatively removed your trembling hand from your mouth, putting more faith in your voice than you ought have. "Please, more," you begged, your voice a cracked whisper. You were no longer pretending, here of all places with him of all people, there was no longer any need to be the vision of purity in flesh.

"Utterly consumed and still begging for me...that is how I like you, aunt." Jace's hands found your hips, his own snapping forward to thrust into you deeper, quicker. Thankfully, the silk of your gown prevented your skin from rubbing raw on the stone altar but you'd had to abandon your grip on the slick stone, instead relying on the floor to hold you up. Jace let out quiet, restrained moans at the feel of you. He would surely not be able to keep his pace and last much longer, but it did not seem to matter for your body was so alight with stimulation that you were a hair's breadth from cumming anyway. When you'd tried to touch your own clit again, even your own gentle touch, you'd flinched and trembled from overstimulation.

Jace kept a brutal pace, panting like a beast in heat. You came, a painful orgasm racking your body. The warm, wet squeeze of your pleasure, of your cunt trying to draw him deeper was eliciting the most deliciously ill concealed moans from him. He pumped in and out of your hole, his breaths stuttering. Your hand was still over your mouth to contain the whorish moans that would serenade the entire keep if allowed. Just as you thought you'd collaspe in a heap onto the ground, Jace finally came, pumping cum deeply into you in slow pulses. You could feel his body twitch where your bare skin met. Cum continued to flow for several more seconds, your dazed mind was both exhausted and impressed.

When he finally finished, he lingered for a moment inside you. He wished to have you for the whole night, to have you for every night. To steal you away from standing at the side of green cloth and sullen faces; to put you in the true colors of your house as his queen. He knew, like Rhaenyra knew that your mother would never agree to an annulment and it was her who ruled you. It was only when Aegon was sent to the seven hells that he could steal you away and wed you. It was only then he could speak the truth of his children without fear.

That wasn't tonight. Perhaps it would not even be after the birth of your third child but Jace was something your brothers and your mother were not. Patient. He would play the game, he would bide his time, he would plot and plot and plot. He could be as his mother and pretend.

When you parted from him, you returned to your chambers, finding a drunken and weepy Aegon. You had so wanted to have a bath and a nice sleep but it seemed you'd have to soothe your elder brother instead. You sat on the bed, not bothering to even ask what was wrong with him this time, it was always something or another and none of it really mattered by morning. You brought his head into your lap, though you smelled distinctly of sex, your brother must have believed it came from him for he accepted your comfort without question. You stroked his hair and let him drone about Aemond’s jabs as Jace’s cum seeped out of you, wetting the inner lining of your dress.

You and Aegon had only slept together a handful of times, not that he knew as much. After the first couple of times, you came to know how to prepare yourself for the gods only knew that he wouldn’t. Aegon’s desire for you was sporadic in your first years of marriage, you didn’t know when he’d appear in your chambers seeking your body. So, you’d lay back in your bed, touching yourself to the thought of your pretty nephew. Making yourself wet, relaxed and ready so that things would go along without irritation should he appear. Would that your mother had wed you to Jacaerys, you would have done your duty with gladness and ease but you knew how your mother was and what she expected. You couldn’t fault her so much for it, her intentions were only to keep you with her and within her protection. Thankfully, though as Aegon grew, he became more and more of a drunkard, only occasionally being able to even make it to your chambers at night and being satiated into sleep with only a bit of appeasement. He was never the wiser about whether he had or had not bedded you.

It hardly mattered. He only wished for reassurance that you still loved him and thought best of him and in your arms, he believed he’d found it. His limp, weepy affection was suffocating but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your brother without comfort when he was upset, unfortunately. In the morning, you were glad to untangle yourself from his sweaty body to bathe and dress for the day. Your maids eyed the light bruises at your hips sympathetically, believing they came from your husband, still snoring in bed. You paid them no mind, though it made you feel a bit guilty, it was all the better for everyone to see you as a suffering and dutiful bride. Better for them to think Aegon bedded you, demanded much of you even as you were with child. A princess quietly suffering was as saint-like as a woman could be in the eyes of lords. Let it be told that you did your duty. Such was the only way you’d ever have anyone fight for you and your children.

Months later — months of secret meetings and muttered prayers later, you went to your birthing bed with your mother at your side. She was trying to soothe you but the sheer terror in her eyes didn’t match her calm words. Still, you were glad to have her. Even if you told Jace you belonged to him and even though the lords of the realm said you belonged to Aegon, you truly belonged to your mother who cared for you in all things. Whose love of you would drive her to madness should you perish in childbirth. It was a comfort that preceded your capacity for romantic love, it was something formed in the womb, when hers was the only voice in the world.

This birth was your longest yet, stretching from starless morning sky to the middle of the next day when the sun hung high in the sky. Alicent’s fervent prayers as she held your hand were only broken by the birth of your child, who was smaller than your others but dubbed a healthy girl by the maesters. It didn’t seem as though Alicent truly cared much about that, she was simply relieved you had survived the undertaking. The instant the maester took the babe to examine for any imperfections, she leaned down at your bedside and held you tightly. “Oh, my sweet girl. You’ve done so well.”

When the maester handed the softly fussing child back to you, you noticed a thick tuft of silver hair in her head of otherwise dark hairs. You noticed it captured Alicent’s eyes too. She smiled, silently pleased, believing that this would end all allusions to bastardy. If there had been any doubt in her heart that she was able to acknowledge, it was all soothed at the sight of her hair. The babe cooed softly, lying at your breast, stealing your heart away completely. You loved your boys but with a mother like yours, how could you be anything but enamored with a daughter of your own?

“What will you name her?” Alicent asked, watching you hold her granddaughter proudly, pushing your sweaty hair out of your face.

“I shall name her Viserra, I think.”

“That’s lovely.” Alicent smiled, coasting on the sheer relief of your survival. You could have told her you wish to name the child Lickspittle and she would only nod blissfully. “You’ve done so very well.” She seemed near tears.

“Oh, mother, don’t cry.”

She wiped at the tears steadily falling from her big brown eyes. “I cannot help it. I wish to protect you from all things and bearing your child is solely in the hands of the gods but my girl is so strong. I am truly proud, truly grateful.” She knew what it was to marry and to stand alone even in marriage. You wore it well, better than even she had. She never cursed Viserys for it only made him harder to live with if she did but in your birth and his neglect of you, she bore a resentment deep as the sea and long as the red waste. If he was to favor one of his daughters, should it not be you who was never once a thorn in his side? Who honored him even as he slowly forgot your name? If a daughter could be a worthy heir in her eyes, it was you who should have been chosen. That thought became another bitter seed of resentment piled onto the many she’d already buried. She could only hold you.

There was truth to the notion that she feared for all of her children but truly, it was mainly you she feared for. The only loss she could not recover from. She could never have tolerated your marriage to one of Rhaenyra’s bastard boys, the anxiety alone would send her to her death. Still, there were other dangers that awaited young girls in the keep, even princesses…even queens. She wished to shield you from all of them but to that end, she would need to continue building allegiance. Never again should she be delicate, never again supplicating to the wrong person. Her daughter would be queen with hundreds at her side, in service of her honor when the time came, even if it came to bloodshed.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Heya! If you are doing requests then may I request Nagito x Junko's little sister reader? I think it'd be fun!

This sounds a lot like a series I started last month so I'll just continue with the same story line 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Third Enoshima | Yandere Nagito Komaeda

“What an honor! To be in the presence of such overwhelming hope!’

Before the killing game, you float around between the classes 

Considering most if not all of your education was condensed into a single-person course

Somehow organized by your guardians

One of the many students you got to know was Nagito

The wide-eyed oddly degrading friend who seemed to put everyone on a pedestal

Especially you

His behavior reminds you far too often of your sisters 

Only his obsession doesn’t even pretend to be platonic

“Oh my ultimate hope! Would you like to join me for lunch today? I happen to be graced with the perfect table for us to sit at!”

“This…just looks like a candle lit dinner.”

“My luck is is as unpredictable as ever.”

And always for his benefit

You don’t mind since your used to obsessive people your sisters

You do not condone the way he treats the honor students

Often scolding you when he interrupts you trying to hang out with them

“Not cool Nagito! You can’t just say that to people!”

“Forgive me for being so forward but would you put a deity on the level of maggots?”

When he’s finally effected by despair

It doesn’t get much better

On the command of Kamakura and Junko’s final message he’s one of your most adamant pursuers

“Oh (Y/n) the Seed of Despair! The silent flame of the fire that will bring despair to all! I will do right by Junko’s name and make sure you breed the Despair you were born to!”

It’s likely Munakata and the Hope Foundation uses you as bait to lure him

And he’s absolutely insane 

Losing his composure at the mere sight of you

Drooling

Scratching at the glass and metal crate

Smooching his face against the class

Humping the glass

Granted it’s just a hologram because according to Munakata–”Filth doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near diamonds even if for the fate of the world.”

After his treatment though, it’s believed that you because you’re now closely affiliated with the Hope Foundation will never see or hear from him again

You quickly proved wrong when a secret message and video file pops up on your private tablet

“I’m wishing you the best with your new life, (Y/n). I know those days we used to know each other are long since past and you are happily settled with the Future foundation. But as I’m learning to value myself more I’m also paying heed to what I want and what my friends want–”

You immediately try to record 

Pressing frantically as the button doesn’t seem to work

You go for your phone

“Don’t try to record this. It won’t actually compute the image on your screen. That being said I mean no harm, when I say we think you belong with us. We know how much pain we’ve brought the world. But I see no problem with preserving hope and if the Foundation can’t keep us away then they clearly aren’t the best fit for the job."

You get up, planning to run directly to Munakata

Only to find your tablet begin to overheat as the video message fizzles out

“My hope! My (Y/n)! We’ll be reunited soon. I can only count the minutes before we can spend our days together! Forever!”

[nyctophiliq]

✮ ┆ HANA IS A PERVERT! hana ‘d.va’ song

— “you keep lurking in my dreams.”

description.             ever since hana had arrived to the overwatch base she has been watching you close, dreaming of you, wanting you, have visions of you while relieving herself

content warnings.               MDNI, nsfw content, female-bodied reader, mention of angela, masturbation, wet dreams, infatuation author’s notes.             continuing the ‘IS A PERVERT!’ line, next up is hana !!! enjoy the filth smut lovers

it wasn’t unusual for hana to be out this late around the base, being the new addition to the overwatch family, getting used to the time zone differences and to her new bed without her friend just a step away. but she had to do what must have been done and she did so without question or doubt, following most if not all words of her commanders.

the other side of her story of being up, one that she would be embarrassed admitting out loud, is that your shift usually started late at night for whatever reason. hana wanted to ask if it was because you choose the night life or were the higher ups forcing you. but she never did, she always just watched as you did your rounds, restocked first aid kits around the corridors, assess inventories, and manage paper files. the night at the infirmary was relatively slow that much hana noticed, only a few agents came around and needed assessment rather than the rush in the morning.

the more time she spent watching you, the more she couldn’t stop the dreams from accompanying her when she turned back to her bed. she saw you, everything she wanted to see she saw in her imagination as she tossed and turned, trying to shush her thoughts when in reality she didn’t really want to. she just couldn’t stop, every vision she had you during her lewd dreams just drawn her to you even more, so much so she became obsessed with the thought of at least once feeling what it felt like to be with you. but she never really made up the courage, rather ran when you took an innocent glance at her direction- you weren’t even looking at her- but she thought you were, she was sure you were, and she couldn’t let go of that anymore.

it was much later that she started to sneak into the camera room, getting all the screens to be different angles of the infirmary to be so she could see you from your ever side. it riled her up, had her squish her thighs together as she watched your every step, over sexualizing every little move you made because she was that obsessed with you now. she scared herself with how much she needed to see you, but the other part of her that approved of her actions were much more persuasive than the half that was trying to tell her she was walking down the wrong path.

hana grew more and more brave, but not in a sense anyone would expect. first it was just when she went to shower, holding herself up by leaning on her hands against the white tiles on the wall, just thinking about your teasing words as you finger roamed across her slim frame then it progressed to her touching herself as the hot water ran down her back. she whispered your name multiple times, begging for the fragment of you in her imagination for to go faster and let her cum. she imagined you called her a good girl, a good bunny, your good bunny as she came on her fingers, shaking, and shivering.

the peak of hana’s stalking was when she completely disregarded the possibility of someone else being up other than the two of you, watching from the end of the hall, from behind a doorframe. she had the same pj’s on that she always did, those soft pink shorts with a deeper pink shirt that was too big on her. the rubber bands in the shorts were loose, hana always needed to tie the laces so it wouldn’t slip so low on her body but tonight at this moment, they weren’t tied.

you wore one of those tighter outfits you had, everyone let it slip because the white coat covered it up, leaving nothing for the eyes or the imagination. her mind went into override waiting for that moment for you to discard the coat, complain of the hot of the office under your breath before sitting back into your chair. the deeper tone that your cheeks picked up when you did so, the slight glint of your skin under the led lights, and the sighs you let out in frustration did all the things hana waited for. she slipped her hand in the loose shorts, shamelessly leaning against the wall as she watched you struggle with the heat.

oh how she wanted you to be the one taking advantage of her, pushing her from behind up against the wall and use her. there was no concern in her for her dignity, she had an inkling that whoever would walk in on her fingering herself wouldn’t say a word- but in this moment she didn’t care, she just wanted you, you, only you.

“y/n…” she sighs as she pushes her fingers in deeper, two is enough, tho it is a tight fit. but you probably wouldn’t mind the challenge to stretch her, help her fit a little more inside so she can feel even better. all she needed was you, one word from you and she would do anything, no matter what it was.

hana’s head fell against the wall, huffing as she worked inside of herself. “please, I n-need it.” she cries as low as she can, her teary eyes trying to focus on you but it’s so hard to keep her eyes open now or keep herself up. she didn’t need too much to tip over the edge now, she never did, all she could think about through out the day was this exact moment when she could watch you and fuck herself thinking it was you. nothing made her day better, nothing else made losing a mission better than having your pretty face on display, the frustration written all over it as she clawed her insides thinking she was helping you relieve all that was bothering you.

“that’s it bunny let go,” hana utters the words, but she hears them in your tone, now really lost in her fantasy as she draws her fingers against her walls and with the remaining strength she has before creaming on her fingers, she bites down on the neck of her shirt, trying to stuff as much into her mouth as she can. hana wanted you to hear it, hear as she cries your name out and collapse because of all the lewd thoughts you caused her.

she couldn’t let you, not yet, that strange stomach-turning feeling was still bothering her whenever she tried to walk into your office. just a look from you would get her flustered, get her to forget what she wanted and embarrass herself. she will eventually do it, tell you how much she likes you and that she wants you to show her everything you know, never show it to anyone else just her, only her.

[zombiethingy]

(early) WIP weekend

Let's do another WIP weekend since I got a four day one again! (and I definitely need some kicks in the butt ^^)

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

No clues this time -- Choose wisely:

filth part 5

projecting much

an tagen wie diesen

help with the dishes

prologue

Tagging the usual people (no pressure to join obviously, but I always enjoy interacting with you! Thank you for all the asks and comments <3) and everyone who wants to join 💜 @griefabyss69 @thetragicallynerdy @finntheehumaneater @ao3usermelancholyhues

Snippet below the cut:

But then he doesn't really know how to proceed.

"Steve," he prods, hoping for some guidance.

"Hmm?" Steve sounds like he's coming out of a deeply relaxing experience. "That felt so good. Thanks for helping me, baby."

That feels good too.

It doesn't bring Eddie closer to a solution though and Steve's still leaning against him, eyes closed.

He nudges him again.

"Pleased to be of service, but what do we do now?"

"Oh, right," Steve sounds more present. He also bears most of his own weight again, then turns his head to press a kiss against Eddie's cheek, and finally answers. "Just jiggle it a bit and put it back away."

When that's done, he turns around in Eddie's arms, wrapping his own around him in a hug.

"That was such a good idea! Thank you for suggesting it," he says into Eddie's neck, squeezing him closer.

[chaos-and-recover]

I dunno if I am venting, asking aita, or asking advice or am I overreacting but you're probably the only person I follow who is old (I am 17 and most people I follow are around that age) so here goes. so I have this cousin who my whole family hates and has spent my whole life saying horrible things about. This cousin literally moved across the country (we are in the USA) and everyone says that she moved away because she was tired of our family calling her out on her abusive behavior. (Cont)

Okay, wow. This is a doozy. I'm gonna answer all the messages in this series probably in chunks (but in this one post) 'cause there's a lot to say here and I think it makes sense so I can interject thoughts as I go and address all the various things going on here. First off, based on this first message, I'm kind of on your cousin's side. I'd probably also move across the country if my entire family talked shit about me all the time.

I grew up hearing how she's awful, a bitch, unhygienic, house is a hoarding disaster of filth, etc, like she's not a good person. Anyway despite living so far away she's managed to come to important events like weddings and funerals. Now I notice that any time someone calls her out, like asks how smelly her house is, if she's keeping it clean, or if her friend(s?) still put up with her, she has a really nasty insult ready and it's been like that my whole life so I believe it. (Cont)

Okay so, obviously I don't know her so she might be all of those things, but does your family have examples of her shitty behaviour beyond being unhygienic and possibly a hoarder? Because those things, to me, don't match up with "she's a bitch" and "she's awful," but being a bitch might be an understandable reaction to people giving you crap about the way you live. And hoarding in particular is very often a symptom of a larger mental health issue. Asking if her friends "still put up with her" is rude as fuck too, like so far your family kind of sound like bullies.

Anyway so last year a relative got married and my cousin showed up. My cousin is in her late 30s idk exactly. So my aunt (also her aunt) points out that maybe if she hadn't been a bitch and took better care of herself she would be married. She said she was happy in her relationship life but we all immediately pointed out she wasn't in a relationship so she should stop lying. (Cont)

As someone at the tail end of their 30s who is unmarried this is a WILDLY inappropriate thing to say. There are a million reasons why someone might not be married in their 30s, not least of which is "they don't want to be." I also think it's either a generational or a cultural thing that people just don't get married in their 20s as much anymore -- generational because my parents were 20 and 24 got married but both of my siblings were in their early 30s, two of my best friends didn't get married until they were 34 and 35, respectively, and for a variety of reasons I have a ton of other friends in their 30s who are not married at all. Some people just don't get married! Some people don't get married until it makes financial sense (either actually paying for the wedding or something more practical like joint tax filing. It actually doesn't always make sense to file as a couple). But I also wonder if that's just a cultural thing because it certainly seems that getting married in your 20s is still something a lot of people do in some regions of the US and in some other cultures, so I don't know. But I do think it's no one else's fucking business why someone else isn't married (for me it's because I straight up cannot be bothered dating and do not want to alter my life and my routine to make room for another person lmao so that makes getting married a bit of a challenge). Also even if she was not in a relationship (later messages make it clear that's apparently not the case) you CAN be perfectly happy being single. Like, I am absolutely happy with my non-existent dating life and relationship status. So accusing her of lying about being happy because you think she's single is bonkers, frankly. Being in a relationship doesn't automatically make you happy, and you don't need a romantic relationship in order to be happy.

She said we clearly knew nothing about her, that she isn't messy, is happy with how she looks, and we need to stop lying about her hygiene and other things. Now I personally have never thought she smelled bad but I only see her at big events so ofc she wouldn't. Anyway the wedding had alcohol so we all got really drunk (including me, but including her also so she can't judge) and things got heated between her and my mom (Cont)

So okay. I want you to think about this. Your family says she's smelly and unhygienic but you've never observed that yourself, so why do you believe them? Maybe she does only clean up for family events, but if that's the only time you see her, do you know that's true? Do you have any reason, beyond what your family has said, to actually think she does have hygiene issues? This might also be a mental health issue, fyi. There are a ton of reasons someone might not be "clean." There are also a lot of physical conditions that might cause someone to smell "bad." And it is, frankly, not anybody's business.

As for the drinking, yeah getting sloppy drunk isn't a good look but it also happens at weddings. I'm neutral on that point, tbh.

(my mom cheated on my dad and my cousin told everybody and that's how my dad found out I'm not kid but that's a long story) anyway so she got kicked out of the wedding and took an uber to the hotel. The next day I went to the hotel and we were both hungover so maybe not in the best mood. when I talked to her she told me that our family was abusive and toxic and I pointed out it's unrealistic that everyone in the whole family except her is abusive (cont) so maybe she needs to logically look at herself and realize it's more believable that only she is lying instead of everyone except her. And she just said I should research family scapegoats. I told her that it was her fault my parents divorced and my dad doesn't pay child support and she told me to leave. Well I felt kinda bad and so a few days later when she was back home I messaged her about what she'd like for a wedding because that's what ppl talk about after a wedding. (Cont)

She's right about the family scapegoat. It's not uncommon for abusive people to target one person and not another. Like, a parent may be abusive toward one kid, but not another, and they may turn others against that one kid, cause resentment, and ruin one kid's life while their sibling(s) may think they have a great childhood. It sucks! But it's absolutely a real abuse tactic. In your family's case I think it's pretty likely everyone didn't get together and decide to be shitheads to your cousin, but it started SOMEWHERE, it sounds like SOMEONE turned everyone against her.

I will say she shouldn't have told everyone your mom had an affair, but it's straight up not her fault your parents divorced. Your parents divorced because your mom cheated. It sucks! I'm sorry you had to go through that. She should keep her mouth shut about things that aren't her business (if she knew and no one else did, telling your dad might have been acceptable depending on the circumstances/relationship, but not spreading gossip to everyone else. That's not cool).

She said a bunch of stuff and then mentioned that her wedding would be a dry wedding. I pointed out that she was being hypocritical and a bridezilla because nobody wants to go to a dry wedding AND I know she drinks PLUS she got wasted like everybody else at our most recent wedding. And she said that since it was allowed then it's not hypocritical but that as I wasn't old enough to drink then it wouldn't matter anyway. (Cont)

Getting sloppy drunk at one wedding and then having a dry wedding yourself isn't really hypocritical. There are a lot of reasons someone might have a dry wedding, from money (open bars are expensive and cash bars are kinda tacky imo) to someone involved with/at the wedding in recovery for alcohol addiction to just not wanting people to get sloppy. I do think a dry wedding is probably gonna reduce the number of people who want to go but that might also be the goal.

Now granted I did lose my temper and tell her that it wasn't like she ever had to worry about getting married anyway because nobody loved her and since it hadn't happened for her yet then she should accept it wouldn't ever. I will admit that I reacted badly to that. She then told me to go and then blocked me. Well I have two accounts (one I made before I was 13 but I said i was 21 so I could have a fb and she followed me on both)well lo and behold six months ago she announces shes engaged (cont)

Yeah that wasn't cool, honestly. But also if I had a younger cousin who said something like that I'd probably be like "yeah ok kid sure" so like she could've probably reacted better.

I message her asking for an invite and she reminds me that it's a dry wedding and I said that's ok. She says she's not sure she wants me to come based on my behavior but she'll think about it. Well I notice that nowhere on any of her social media does she talk about her fiance or boyfriend at all, except to say who she is marrying and it's her best friend, who lives where she moved. I message him (we don't follow each other) cont I'm like how long have you been dating and why haven't you said anything on social media. He says they've been together for years but they're both private people. I don't know anything about him beyond that they've been friends (dating?) for like almost 15 or more years or smth. She only ever talked about him like a friend. Which I thought was weird. But I keep that to myself. Well because she always made it to all weddings and funerals I say yes I'd like to go. (Cont)

This might also be a bit of a generational disconnect. She's roughly my age and while our generation definitely had some early forms of social media by high school, we didn't grow up on it the same way younger generations did and the concept of sharing EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME is still a little foreign to us. Either that or we did the oversharing every aspect of our lives in our teens/early 20s and are now pulling back from that. It seems like every day more and more people I know are leaving FB and other social media platforms. Years ago when I was seeing someone he went to change his relationship status to 'in a relationship' with me after like 2 dates and I had to be like "whoa hold on there bro." I hadn't even mentioned to my family that I was seeing someone (because TWO DATES). Some people just don't put all their business on social media.

So I get an invite and so i invite the whole family. We show up but she has no room for us and said she only sent out a few invites but since I got invited I told everyone where the wedding was. Her fiance was there and kinda stepped in but it never got heated or anything but he showed us cheap hotels because they just didn't have room for everyone and they weren't expecting that many people. But when I was in the house I noticed it looked clean and smelled normal. (Cont)

Okay you're young so I'll chalk this up to not knowing what goes in to planning a wedding but DON'T DO THIS. Weddings are expensive and they are also planned down to the very last detail, INCLUDING having EXACT numbers for catering. You're basically buying dinner for all your guests, and it can be expensive. If you're having a buffet-style or more casual wedding you might have extra food but in a lot of cases the caterers are preparing the meals for the people who have RSVP'd and there won't be a ton of extra food just in case. You can't just add a bunch of extra people at the last minute because there won't be enough food, and in this case, not enough space. Most wedding invites have you choose your meal when you RSVP so they make sure they have enough of each option for everyone. If your invite says +1 you can bring a guest, otherwise you don't. You DO NOT invite a bunch of random people, especially family who don't even like this person and weren't invited for a reason (why would they even want to go if they all hate her so much?)

Also, you were in her house and it was clean and didn't smell, consider why you still believe your family who say she's unhygienic.

My family is clearly angry but they're not psycho so they keep it to themselves when he drives us there. So her and fiance ask to talk with me alone at a diner and give me a talk about how I wasn't supposed to invite everyone which offended me because they're family but I have never met him so I don't want to be rude. They both say they've managed to work it out and had extra food so it was okay this time but that in case other people get married or future events I should be aware that this behavior isn't acceptable. Which yes got my hackles raised but i'm trying to be nice. Well anyway at some point she had to leave for a hair appointment and needs to go but I am not done eating so she takes an Uber and he eats until I'm done eating before taking me back to the hotel. I take the alone time to bring up like hey do you know the woman you're about to marry is abusive and toxic and that he deserves better than someone he has to remind to shower and clean up after and someone who is kind and I just blurt out that she's a hypocrite who got sloppy drunk and I'm like I don't know how often she's lied to you about what kind of person she is and that he should know how toxic she is and to his credit he listened but then he asks why do you think her family wasn't invited, because they're abusive, and then asks what my goal was in talking shit about his future wife to him as soon as she's out of earshot and asks if I talk this way about everybody who isn't in the room with me. And I point out it's more logical that she is the abusive liar, not literally everyone else except her. And then he says she's always been loving and kind, cleans a normal amount, and as far as he's been around her taken care of her hygiene and that even when he visited the home she grew up in it was clean and that he will not listen to me talk about her like that anymore. When I get back to the hotel I tell my family everything and they came uncorked and kept calling her and texting her and so they rescinded all our invitations. We all pointed out that we spent a lot of money to get there and she said that wasn't her problem and then blocked all of us. I tried to show up to the wedding but was told to either leave on my own or be escorted by the police so I left. I didn't know this but my family showed up after me and stuff went down but i dont know what because nobody will tell me. Anyway so after the wedding I tried to contact her through multiple means but i was blocked on all of them as we all were. She did post a few videos publicly for everyone to see, so I had a mutual friend who wasn't blocked but didn't attend the wedding show me the videos and the wedding was very cheap and small. But that is what she told me she wanted last year. I tried talking to her siblings but her siblings also blocked me. I tried talking to some relatives of her now husband but they didn't respond to me, and i may have lost my temper and said cruel things so they all blocked me without responding. I made a few accounts and emails contacting them again asking for evidence of her claims but nobody ever responded but I was able to send emails. (Cont)

Yeah I'm on the cousin and her fiance's side still. He sounds like a decent guy standing up for his future wife. And if he has in fact known her for 15 years, he DOES know what kind of person she is. I think it's clear you meant well in warning him about what you've heard about her your whole life, but I think you should consider that your family aren't always the good guys in every situation. Even people you love can be wrong and cruel. I think if you can go through the trouble of making additional accounts to ask her siblings for evidence of her claims (you should stop, btw. They blocked you because they don't want to discuss it, leave them be) you should also maybe ask the family you do speak to for actual evidence of her being an awful person and being filthy and smelly (which, again... nobody's business, and not a reason to be nasty to someone???).

I think, based on what I've read here, it comes down to this: your family does not like this cousin and they make no secret of it. Why on earth would she tell them anything, invite them to major events like her wedding, or be anything other than nasty to them in return???

[metize]

Behave.

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Yagami Light/Reader Additional Tags: Reader-Insert, Praise Kink, Yagami Light is Kira, L is reader's brother, but no one's supposed to know, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Blackmail, Coercion, Sexual Coercion, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, 'good girl's, AFAB reader - Freeform, Misogyny, Workplace Sex, Desk Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, this is filthy, I'm so sorry, Manipulation, Top Yagami Light, Jealousy

A/N: Filth! Absolute dirt! I'm the Trash Man! I come out, I throw trash all over AO3, and then I start eating garbage! Enjoy.

"You seem to get along very well with L."

You could practically feel your heart stop when Light said that. You felt so stupid, of course, this guy would figure it out. You tried your best to look unfazed while you panicked on the inside. The black-haired detective and you were trying to keep it a secret from the task force that you were siblings. You cursed Ryuzaki internally, he had been acting kind of protective towards you and it was bound to raise suspicion.

“You think so? I’ve just been trying to be on good terms with everyone.” You deflected.

The investigation room was empty save for the two of you, there was a single monitor showing the news broadcast reporting on the most recent Kira murder. You focused back on the files you were sorting through. Your older brother never cared much for organizing and that drove you mad. You glanced in Light’s direction again, he was staring at you, his gaze sent shivers down your spine, you just forced an awkward smile.

"Did you let him fuck you yet?" He deadpanned.

"W-What the fuck? Of course not!" You answered abruptly. You were offended that Light would even ask something like that. The crude way he said it too, made you blush in embarrassment. You found it weird he'd say something like that, usually Light was nothing short of a gentleman when addressing you.

"Don't get coy all of a sudden. Just admit you two are fucking already." He sounded annoyed now. He got up and got closer to your desk, his eyes never leaving yours. You sometimes felt intimidated in his presence, now in the middle of the night, alone with him towering over you, this feeling increased tenfold.

"T-that's disgusting! Why are you even saying that? We're just… we're just friends, coworkers who get along, whatever!" You started to crack under the pressure.

Light brows furrowed for a second and then his eyes widened in revelation. A grin formed on his face and he burst into laughter like he had finally gotten the punchline to a joke. His laughter was scary, loud and almost maniacal.  You didn't know how to react exactly so you looked at him nervously and confused.

Did he believe you? Did he find the misunderstanding funny? Was that it? You hoped that was it. You offered a weak smile as his laughter died down.

"I was so caught up in this… obsession… this feeling of jealousy… ah. It was obvious all along. You're siblings. Siblings!" He shook his head smiling "This is pathetic. You're becoming such a nuisance with your distraction."

He figured it out, of course it had only been a matter of time. But that realization took way too long for his liking. He was blinded by the rage of the idea of L having you and he didn't stop to consider any other possibilities.

"Excuse me? I didn't-" You got up and started to retort his rude comment.

"Shut the fuck up." And you did so out of shock. Light wasn't like this normally, he was relatively courteous and nice. Why was he so… brutish all of a sudden? He smiled at your obedience. "Good girl."

The praise felt so dirty, you frowned at him. Being infantilized was something you were used to dealing with in the workplace, being surrounded by older men. But Light was pretty much your age, what was he thinking?

You didn't have time to wonder because the man grabbed your collar and pulled you into a kiss.

You tried to push him away instinctively and ask what the fuck he was doing, but Light grabbed your wrists. He held them so tightly it almost marked your skin. Your lips were still closed so he bit them to make you part them. He kissed you aggressively as if he was punishing you for something. his tongue entered your mouth deepening the kiss and claiming your mouth for himself.

He tasted like coffee and sin.

"God, and I thought fucking L's girlfriend was a good idea, this is way better." He sounded extremely amused. "I wonder how is he going to react when he finds out I fucked his pretty little sister?"

Ryuzaki had always had a bad feeling about Light, he mentioned you should be careful around him, you knew all that and here you were. You thought he was being overprotective, to be fair Light wasn't the first guy L had a bad feeling about.

Light's hand was now caressing your hair, smiling content with your current predicament and very proud of himself.

"We… w-we can't." You tried to come up with an excuse. "We work together, so it would be-"

"I am Kira."

You heart stopped when you heard those words. Everything started connections in your head, every lead, every tip, every death. You still had many questions, some things didn't make sense, but as you stood there looking at that man's face it was clear that he wasn't joking.

"W-why are you… telling me this?" You tried to back away slowly. You could hear your heartbeat drumming in your ears.

"Because I feel like keeping you to myself." He smiled sinisterly, every step back you took he stepped forward to approach you again "I was contemplating killing you after pounding your cunt, but I told myself I deserved a little treat."

Hearing him talking about murdering you in cold blood activated your flight instinct immediately. You turned away and rushed towards the door, but as soon as you tried to twist the doorknob and open the door, it was locked. You twisted the knob again and again, desperately trying to unlock it with sheer willpower.

“Stop that, you’re smarter than this.” You heard his voice right against your ear, his hands now grabbing your waist and caressing you through the fabric of your blouse. “There’s only one way you leave this room” he placed a kiss on your neck and you shivered despite yourself “with my cum leaking down your thighs” he grabbed your throat suddenly “and invisibly leashed to me, like a good little pet.”

You were shaking, incredibly aware of Light's bulge pressing against your ass, one hand toying with the hem of your shirt and the other still holding your neck possessively.

"Are we clear, pet?"

You felt his grip tighten a bit so you just quickly nodded your head. It showed to be the wrong answer, because you were punished with a sharp swat to your ass.

"Use your damn words, there's a reason I chose not to gag you." He grabbed your face, forcing you to make eye contact with him. "Say 'Yes, master'."

He was a sick fuck. You wanted to scream at him and call him exactly that. You wanted to push him away and go home already. But god damn it, you wanted to survive this.

"Yes… m-master."

He smiled at your obedience and his grin made you sick to your stomach. He placed a kiss on your temple and pat your hair gently.

"There you go, good girl. That wasn't so hard, was it?" He turned you around quickly and pushed your back against the door. His mouth was on yours again, his hands slipped under your shirt and you shivered feeling his cold touch on your skin. The fabric was restraining his hands so he grew frustrated and started to undress you at once.

"Y-you don't… have to do this, Light. I promise I won't tell anyone, just let me go and-"

"Don't waste your breath. You'll need it when I get to choke you properly…" he answered simply, amused by your perseverance, all the while looking forward to breaking it. "I want to fuck you, so I'm going to do it. I have the whole world in my hands and it's not a little pet that's going to deny me what I want. Understood?"

He tossed your shirt on the floor and started pulling your pencil skirt up. He glared at you for not answering and you promptly spoke up.

"Understood."

He smirked. You felt his fingers trace your slit over your panties, you shuddered and instinctively tried to move away.

"Don't fucking move." His other hand grabbed your waist holding you in place. His tone was harsh and you were so fucking scared.

"Sorry"

"I'm sure you are… Good girl, at least you have manners." He chuckled at that. "Not that your decency matters, look how wet you are for your master…"

He stroked the wet fabric to emphasize his point and you tried to hold back a moan, but it was useless. It felt good, of course it felt good. Light was a hot guy, he obviously knew his way around someone's body and you were only human. His lips captured yours again and he kept playing with your clothed sex as you made out. You could swear you were going insane, the pleasure of his hands on you was intoxicating and his mouth on yours had you gasping for air.

"Get on your knees. Now."

You needed to survive this, you needed to be useful to him. The way he ordered you around did excite you but you needed to stay focused. You were not supposed to feel good, you were supposed to find a way out of this situation.

For now that meant kneeling before Light as he pulled out his cock for you.

You gulped as you eyed him, of course Light Yagami had a big dick, you had to have suspected it. But now you had to give him head and you knew very well he wasn't going to go easy on you. He saw your hesitation and scoffed in amusement.

"Go ahead pet, you want to prove to me you're worth keeping around don't you?" He smiled devilishly at you.

"Yes, master." You murmured and licked your lips. You could do this. And, in a weird way, you kind of wanted to do this, you wanted him to praise you more, to call you a good girl again… you repressed the thought. This is disgusting, Light is disgusting and a murderer. You were strong you won’t fall for his games.

You grabbed his cock by its base and started to gently suck the tip. You looked up at him before taking the whole shaft into your mouth. You sucked him off to the best of your, limited, abilities, trying to get him deeper with each bob of your head. Maybe if he came in your mouth he wouldn’t touch you further, maybe he’d let you go.

Your hopeful thoughts are interrupted by the man’s hand grabbing your hair forcefully, you looked at him and he was grinning like the maniac he was.

“Sit still, let me use your throat a little bit.” His voice was unshaken. You felt a bit annoyed he didn’t seem phased by your efforts. You didn’t have time to dwindle on that feeling because Light was grabbing your face and fucking your mouth as soon as he finished his phrase.

His pace was unrelenting and you felt your spit dribbling down your chin, you tried to breathe in small intervals and you could see him laugh at your predicament. You felt rage but he slowed down his thrusts and started petting your head. Like a kid. Like a pet.

“That’s a good girl, such an obedient little pet…” he breathed and pulled out “Bend over your desk for me.”

Fuck. You were out of breath, you could only nod and do as he said. You didn’t even think of disobeying his order, he praised you again, you were doing a good job… You got up and rested your torso on the desk. He was going to fuck you. Light was Kira and he was blackmailing you into submission. This was an absolute nightmare. So why the fuck were you so turned on?

“You know where you belong, don’t you, pet?” You felt his presence behind you and he pulled down your panties. “Not above anyone, not next to your brother… Not even by my side.” He pulled your hair and you yelped despite yourself “You belong under me.”

He entered you forcefully and you couldn’t help but moan loudly at the intrusion, he didn’t prepare you with his fingers, he didn’t touch you properly at all, it hurt and he knew. But he didn’t give a fuck.

“You should be grateful to your master, whore.” His hand reached around your neck his grip making you gasp. “Tell me you can be obedient.”

“I can!” You cried and you felt his other hand reach between your legs to press your sensitive bud.

“You think you can be useful? Do you think you deserve to live to serve your master?” His thrusts were getting harsher and he groaned “Do you?!”

“Yes, master, please, master!” You begged. To cum, to live, anything. Light held your life in his hands and you were so scared, but so turned on.

“You better....” He grunted and kept on rubbing your clit “I fucking own you. I’m going to cum inside you, going to make you my breeding bitch.”

Oh no. That wasn’t good. That was a bad idea.

“N-no… please not inside” You heard him laugh at your resistance.

“Then tell me… tell me his name.” His name? Fuck. Ryuzaki.

You couldn’t tell him his name. Was he going to kill you if you didn’t? You couldn’t do it. You sobbed and grasped his arm in fear.

“No, I can’t, I can’t!” You cried out shaking your head. The pleasure was overwhelming and you came on his fingers screaming. “I can’t! Ah!”

You saw stars, Light never stopped pounding you as he laughed maniacally at your desperation.

“Know your fucking place… useless cunt.... Fuck-” His laughter died down and he pulled you closer as he came inside you.

You felt his spent dripping down your pussy, you trembled both from the orgasm and from fear of what came next. Light pulled out and turned you around, smiling amused at your scared face.

“Don’t worry, pet, of course I wasn’t counting on a dumb slut like you telling me this information…” He pat your head and you stood there with tears rolling down your face “You’re beneath me, I don’t need you, I don’t need your help. I’ll find out eventually.” He chuckled and wiped away your tears “But I do know your name. So you better behave.” He kissed your forehead. “Won’t you, pet?”

[mothandpidgeon]

Extra Credit (Professor!Dave York AU)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Dave York x F Reader

Words: 2865

Rating: VERY E 18+!

Warnings: student/teacher quid pro quo (safe to say this falls under DUB CON so please be careful!!!), spanking, humiliation/degradation, oral sex, orgasm denial, spitting, pussy slapping, biting/marking, p in v sex, Dave York

Summary: With graduation on the horizon, you just have to pass Professor Dave York’s class. But a bad choice on the final assignment leaves your grades in jeopardy. But he’s willing to give you extra credit if you can follow instructions.

a/n: First off, PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU MIND THE WARNINGS. I did not see myself sharing this kind of stuff but I guess I'm freaky like that.

Second, I’m sorry this has the plot of a bad p*rno but sometimes it be like that. Thanks @pascalslittlebrat, @starlightmornings and @mouthymandalorian for encouraging this. It is filth. And thank you P for the gorgeous moodboard!!!!

Also, here is my assignment for the class. What subject do you think Professor York teaches? I was thinking Political Science. Would love to hear your ideas.

It was hot in the lecture hall, one of those early spring days when the weather decided winter was officially over. You had only a few more weeks until graduation and you were white knuckling to the end.

It had been a tough semester. You had your classes to deal with and your motivation was dipping. It wasn’t entirely your fault. You’d had to take on a full time job on top of your studies. Your shitty little car always seemed to be in the shop and your roommate had turned into a psychopath so you slept with one eye open.

Professor York’s class was the hardest you’d ever taken. You liked his style, his dry sense of humor as he lectured. But he was difficult to please. Most professors let their TAs do their the grading but not him. No matter how hard you worked on your papers, you couldn’t wrestle anything higher than a B- from Professor York.

The TA was handing back your papers, the last assignment for the semester, and he placed yours face down in front of you. There was no grade on it just red pen that spelled out see me after class in tight, neat handwriting. Fuck.

You looked up to see Professor York glowering at you from his spot at the front of the hall. You approached him as the other students filed out. You wished you could share their relief that this class was finally done but you had a knot in your stomach.

“Have a seat,” he said, taking the paper from you and tapping it in his palm.

There was a chair next to the professor’s desk and you sat down putting your bag beside you.

“Thanks, Tyler,” he said, dismissing the TA.

When the lecture hall was empty, Professor York sat behind the desk, eyes skimming your paper.

“I wanted to talk to you about this,” he said.

You nodded, too nervous to try speaking.

“This is some great work. This is the kind of essay that really sticks with you after you read it,” he said. His brown eyes were warm and soft and he sat forward in his chair.

You were dumbfounded, your anxiety quickly washing away.

“That’s probably how I know I already read this,” he said, his features suddenly darkening.

Your stomach plummeted into your feet. You were such an ass, thinking you could get away with it.

“I don’t tolerate plagiarism,” he told you.

With everything that had been going on this semester, you didn’t have it in you to complete this final assignment. It wasn’t like you were going to get a good grade anyway. You’d been so exhausted, you hardly cared if you got caught when you’d handed it in. But now that you had to face Professor York, you were kicking yourself.

“I find it highly disrespectful that you would try and pass this off as your work. You know you can be expelled for this?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I’ve just had so much work to do-“

“I’m not interested in excuses,” he snapped.

You shut your mouth and felt tears bite at your eyes.

“Are you going to cry?” he asked in disgust. “That’s not going to work on me.”

“Professor, if I fail this class I’m not going to graduate. Please. I’ll do anything to just pass,” you said.

“Anything?”

“Anything,” you said. The word sounded so definitive when it left your lips.

Professor York leaned back in his chair, swiping his finger across his lower lip in thought.

“I can give you extra credit but you have to do exactly what I tell you,” he said.

You were so relieved, you nodded breathlessly.

His lips curled into a smile.

“What color panties are you wearing?” He asked.

Your cheeks set on fire but heat also pooled between your legs. “I- what?” You managed.

“Show them to me,” he commanded.

Your whole body flushed and you stared at him, wide eyed. You had to be dreaming. You’d always found Professor York sexy with that grin and his deep voice but he wouldn’t- this wasn’t happening.

“Do you want extra credit or do you want me to give this paper to your advisor?” He asked, his tone suddenly harsh.

You swallowed hard. Why did his words send a shiver down your spine? You picked up the hem of your skirt and lifted it so Professor York could see between your legs. You looked away, blushing deeply.

He made a guttural noise that made you drop your skirt and clench your thighs together.

“Give them to me,” he said.

Your mouth hung open. He looked completely serious, blinking at you slowly as if this was a casual request. You bit down hard on your lip but finally you relented.

You squirmed out of your panties, being careful that you didn’t give him a show in the process, and placed them in his large, outstretched hand.

He put them to his nose, inhaled, and then squirreled them away in his back pocket, all the while watching you with amusement.

“Stand up. Put your hands on the desk,” he said.

You couldn’t move, sitting there with a gaping mouth. Finally he narrowed his eyes and you did as he said. You put your palms against the table top, aware of the vulnerable way you were leaned over. His eyes moved over your form and he wore the same self-satisfied expression that came when a student asked a stupid question.

Once he was finished admiring your obedience, he stood up and walked behind you. Your heart was pumping wildly as he stepped closer and you could smell his cologne, leather and tobacco.

“I‘ll pass you but I don’t want you thinking you’re getting off easy,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said.

He chuckled and your breath caught. You felt him lift your skirt up, the fabric skimming over your bare ass, and you gasped. He didn’t touch you but he made a noise of approval that shot through you.

“I’m going to hit you five times,” he said into your ear. “You tell me if it’s too much.”

You nodded without even knowing you were doing it. What the fuck was happening? You were standing in the empty lecture hall, bent over, ass out, and desperate to graduate. You couldn’t believe Professor York’s audacity and yet you were going to let him spank you like you were a little girl. It wasn’t like you had a choice, you told yourself.

Before you could make sense of it, his hand connected with you and you let out a grunt. Were you getting wet? You definitely should not be enjoying this.

He hit you again and this time a moan escaped from you. You clamped your hand over your mouth.

“Hands on the desk,” he commanded.

You put it back down and another strike came against you. The sound of his punishment seemed to be echoing off the walls of the empty room.

He pulled your hips into him to steady you as he went on. You loved the feeling of his arm wrapped around your middle, holding you firm.

When he was finished, you were nearly shaking, your pulse quick and your lips parted. You were still reeling not least of all due to the fact that you wanted more.

“Good girl,” Professor York purred smoothing his hand over the spot he’d turned red. His fingers dipped between your legs to feel the slick on your lips. “You’re not going to learn your lesson if you’re enjoying this.”

He came up right behind you so he could wrap his hand around your front and stroke at you. You were thankful your palms were braced against the desk because your knees nearly gave out.

“Professor,” you tried.

“Did I say you could speak?” he asked, a hand gripping your hair.

“What if someone comes in?” Your voice shook.

“Then you’ll have to tell them why you’re failing my class,” he said and continued to play his fingers between your legs.

You whimpered. You could feel his hard length through his pants pressed into the tender flesh of your ass. Your head spun. You knew how fucked up this was but you didn’t want it to end. Professor York’s fingers circled you expertly and you felt like you were melting in his hands. You forgot everything— the circumstances that lead you to this moment, that this was your teacher, that you were exposed in public. Nothing existed except for your pleasure building and building.

As the sensation mounted in you, you began to buck against his hand.

“Are you close?” he asked.

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Good,” he replied and suddenly, his hand was gone.

You cried out in desperation. You clenched at nothing, left at the precipice with no relief. You were throbbing almost painfully. Professor York caught your chin in one of his hands, squeezing your face and wrenching your head around to look at him.

“Do you deserve to cum?” he asked.

You thought you might actually cry between your need for his touch and the fear his voice instilled in you.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

You shook your head.

“No,” he confirmed.

He loosened his grip on you and, for the briefest moment that softness returned to his eyes. You looked at him, eyes glassy and practically drooling, wishing he would touch you again.

“Needy girl,” he chided. “On your knees.”

He pulled you to your feet by the back of your skirt and you got down, bare knees and shins on the tile floor. You gazed up at him, still a little nervous, still pulsing between your thighs.

Professor York undid a few of the buttons of your shirt and skimmed his knuckle across your breast with a hum.

“Maybe I should take this too. Matching set,” he said. He snapped your bra strap which made you jump. “Off.”

He palmed the bulge in his pants as he watched you remove your shirt and unhook your bra. He squeezed one of your tits and pinched your pebbled nipple until you flinched.

“You want to pass?” he asked you, repeating the motion on the other side.

You nodded and he arched an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you said.

“You want to please me?” Now his hand ran gently along your jawline.

“Yes,” you breathed. You’d been trying all this time, studying hard, staying up all night to perfect your papers. Now you had a new goal in mind though you were afraid it was just as unattainable.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed and when you did he spit into it. “Don’t swallow that.”

You stayed like that, with your mouth open as he released himself from his pants. There was a dark patch on his boxer briefs stained by precum. You watched him wildly as he pulled at himself and a glistening bead appeared at his tip. Saliva, yours or his, was dribbling out of the corners of your mouth, dripping on your hard nipples.

“Don’t you look pretty. I hope you can suck cock better than you write papers,” he mocked.

For some reason this was what made your eyes pop. You asked yourself if you were really going to suck off your professor for a good grade. As if you hadn’t just handed him your panties. As if you hadn’t just let him smack your ass. As if your thighs weren’t drenched with your own slick.

He approached you, still stroking himself and you were jealous. You wanted that friction on yourself, were dying for more.

You didn’t have to be told what to do. You wrapped your wet lips around his thick length and your tongue swirled around him.

“Eyes on me,” he demanded.

You looked up at him, and grasped his shaft in your hand as you sunk your mouth around him as far as you could go. Your saliva dripped down his cock pooling in your fist.

“Fuck,” he said.

That word excited you. You kept going, watching him try to keep his eyes open as you surrounded him. The noise of your lips on him was almost disgusting, wet and squelching, and yet it was driving you insane. You clenched your core for some kind of relief that wouldn’t come.

He thrust deeper into your mouth and you tried to take him in but gagged. You pulled away, his cock bouncing out of your mouth and you coughed.

“Good girl,” he said. “Look at you trying to earn that extra credit.”

Tears stung in your eyes as you tried to recover.

“You still want to cum?” he asked, one hand pumping himself slowly.

You nodded timidly. More than anything in the fucking world. But you didn’t want to seem too eager, aware that he was ready at any moment to rescind the offer.

“Sit on the desk,” he said and you did. “Greedy little brat.”

Professor York slid your skirt up your thighs and that sensation alone felt erotic. He inserted two fingers into your mouth and you sucked them hungrily while he grinned.

He slid them across your folds and you were already so sensitive your back arched. He surprised you by getting down on his knees, opening your legs and throwing your thighs over his shoulders. You leaned back on your hands, laid out across the desk, fully on display.

You heard a noise in the hallway and gasped, your head snapping towards the door. But your attention was immediately drawn back to Professor York when you felt him smack you between the legs.

“Do you want to cum or not?”

“Please,” you begged.

He gave you a dark smile and then began nipping at the inside of your thighs. When he got closer to your center, he bit and sucked hard. You let out a breath, a mix of pleasure and pain.

“When you think about this later, I want you to touch yourself and look at this,” he said, swiping the pad of his thumb over the welt he’d just left there.

You let out a shuddering breath and he began to nibble at your clit between his lips. When your hand automatically shot into his hair, he grabbed you by the wrist and removed it, holding your palm against the desk. His tongue lavished you, churning you into a frenzy, and it didn’t take long before you were back where you’d been before. You were panting and grinding your hips into him.

This time he let you hit your high and you trembled and thrashed as he worked at you. It felt like you’d been wiped out by a wave, not being able to sense up from down. You were mewling and shaking when you finally begged him to stop, overwhelmed and cloyed.

He stood and wiped you from his chin and then said, “I’m going to fuck you now.”

You nodded frantically. He pushed into you and you were sure he could feel you still fluttering around him. You were wetter than you could ever remember but still he was difficult for you to take and you inhaled sharply. He didn’t seem to care, snapping his hips into you and grunting, one hand balling your skirt in his fist against you. Soon, though, you were lost in the sensation of his thrusts.

You didn’t even realize that you were whining loudly as he fucked you, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Professor York took your panties from his pocket and shoved them in your mouth to stifle your cries.

“You’re going to have to quiet down,” he rasped.

You whimpered against the fabric in your mouth and he smiled wickedly. He put his hand around the back of your neck to draw you in closer and he pressed into you faster and faster. He pulled out and you heard your own muffled moan at the loss of him. He worked at himself, spilling over your thigh and on your skirt with a groan.

Both of you took a moment to catch your breath and you watched as the professor leaned over you on his hands, swallowed, and then stood up, as composed as ever. He laughed quietly to himself as he took the panties out of your mouth and smoothed his hair.

“Put your clothes on. I have another class to get to,” he said, handing you a handkerchief and zipping himself up. He slid your panties back in his pocket.

You felt shaky on your feet after you’d mopped up his spend. You got dressed wondering how you were going to get through the rest of the day commando, with a ruined skirt, and the remnants of your professor’s cum drying onto your skin. He didn’t say anything else. You hooked your bag over your shoulder and Professor York looked you up and down one last time. He handed you back your essay. It was soaked through down the middle and you realized you’d been sitting on it on the desk. At the top was a new note in red pen: see me after graduation and his phone number.

You got an A.

-----

tagging some folks: @pascalslittlebrat @mouthymandalorian @starlightmornings @purplepascal042 @originallaura @cheekygeek05 @fangirl-316 @fairytale07 @tuskens-mando @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @rebel-soldat @goddessinwolfskin @stevie75 @yespolkadotkitty @danniburgh @221bshrlocked

[arrivisting]

I’d love author commentary on basically the whole scene at Ekkaia in all my war is done (or any individual part of that scene, if your prefer). Taken together, it’s one of the most beautiful and emotionally complex and heartrending things you’ve written, from the description of the sea itself, to the difficulties of Fingon and Alqualondë, to Gil and the ocean and his ‘mother’, to Fingon and Gil beginning to tackle the thorny subect of Maedhros.

I should admit something about all my war is done: it's the most fugue-like my writing has ever been. I jotted down a few notes on my commute into work - I was deeply underwater with my PhD at the time, three months away from submitting - and then the idea of writing a sequel to scion seized me so profoundly that I sat down in the Starbucks where my bus stops, took out my laptop, and wrote instead of just collecting my coffee and walking down to my office. I wrote 15k. In one day. In about five or six hours. I've never achieved anything like that before or since - I do have good days where I can knock 2-4k out easily, but not 15k. (You might note that the posted part of all my war is done is only 12k, but I wrote all the way up into the next bit with Fingon in Tirion that you've read, up until Turgon at the dinner table). I didn't sit down or plan events; I didn't actually know much about what would happen: but I knew they were going to Ekkaia and they'd have some kind of resolution there. These are my phone-notes, from that morning:

You can see, I think, something of the way an idea hits me. I note down a few snatches of plot, not necessarily in any order, some lines I think people should say at some point, although I might not use them, sketch out some things (Formenos's ruins were going to feature more heavily, but they're waiting for a later story).

(It makes me laugh, the words my phone doesn't accept - Gil-galad, for one - and the ones it automatically capitalises from where I've yelled enthusiastically about elf things at people. I never stop long enough to correct spelling etc when I'm trying to get something down).

I clearly knew from inception that I wanted Fingon's place to be called the hill of waiting, and had tried out the name in Sindarin; because my verbs are not good, I came up with Amon Dartha. It was when I was redrafting that I realised Amon Darthir had existed actually in Dor-lomin(!!!) and the name was even more perfect symbolically than I'd meant it to be! Did I know that, unconsciously? I don't know.

You can see, too, that the Sea of Ekkaia was almost the very first point to hit me, and that I knew it and the scene there would be important, and that I knew that the story was about Fingon finding a way to tell Gil-galad that he had been loved, and wanted, and that meant talking about Maedhros; and that at the end I wanted Gil-galad to be gently, impersonally, firmly clear that he would not, could not, be staying to wait with Fingon.

Okay, DVD commentary proper - I'm sorry, I remember awfully little about writing this, given the fugue state and my thesis and everything, so I'm not sure how useful this will be!

“Oh,” said Gil-galad when they broke out of the woods and began to ride down over the dune-lands to the rocky shore. “Oh!”

The Sea of Ekkaia was beautiful, in its own way, but that way that was like no other place in Arda, in either Aman or Middle Earth.

It was a dark-blue that was almost black, even in the late afternoon, and the shore was less sand than gravel, a strange inconsistent rubble of rock and broken sea-shells that had been dashed to pieces by the constant fury of the waves. Staring out to sea, one did not see the far-away horizon the way one did on the gentler coast of Belegaer: there was no gentle faraway blue haze through which one might, perhaps, on a clear day, imagine that Middle Earth could be glimpsed, or at least the Straight Path.

No: instead along the horizon there was a seam of silver light, and then a great blackness, where the Sea of Ekkaia met the Uttermost West that was not quite the Doors of Night, but was certainly the end of Aman itself. If you stood on the shore watching, the seam would ripple with a pulse of light, sometimes green and sometimes white.

It was so far from anywhere the Eldar of Valinor lived. While they clustered around the Belegaer like moths to flame, this shore seemed instead to repel them. Was it the sight of the world’s end itself? It might be; yet Fingon thought there was more to why this wilderness was so little visited, this howling black sea lashing itself against a grey shore. It was beautiful, but not in the way Elves liked things to be beautiful: it was too raw, too unfinished, too savage.

It was too close to where Mandos kept his Halls, which were not only a thing of spirit but also matter, at least in the way that things in Aman were both. Too close to where Nienna’s tower looked out into the Void and where she wept, and wept, and wept. It was too close to death and to rebirth, to judgment and to pity.

There's a little Dawn Treader, I think, in this idea of the uttermost West. I don't know why I thought the seam of the world should pulse with strange light, but it's an uncanny kind of geography, so near Mandos and Nienna, and I like the sense that this is the end of the world, but not the end of the universe.

A lot of this came together serendipitously. I knew some kind of memorialisation of the river that bore Gil-galad needed to be part of his story; that meant going to the sea; and it's clear from the notes that I had already decided that couldn't mean Alqualonde because of kinslaying reasons and memories. (And that that too would need to be confronted). Therefore: roadtrip to Ekkaia. Therefore, the question: what would Ekkaia be like? We don't really know anything about it - only the good qualities of Belegaer. This was really written by a process of inversion, a way of pulling what we know about Belegaer inside-out, and imagining a place at the world's edge, a place that was empty, a place that was uncannily close to difficult things, to Mandos and Nienna; a place that seemed to repel the Eldar as surely as Belegaer drew them like iron filings.

I was thinking visually about New Zealand, too. I spent my childhood summers on the beaches up north, mostly around Tūtūkākā, which are bright and lovely, with golden or white or tawny sand, with gnarled pohutukawa and blue-green water. Like this:

That's what beach and sea meant to me, and it was a shock the first time I went to one of the black sand beaches where the wind howled and the colours weren't blue, green, gold, but iron, grey, navy, black. I loved it, but it felt so other, so passionate, so strange. That shock and that wild beauty and desolation were things I wanted to get at, though Ekkaia would be far more wild and desolate still.

They left the horses in the thin sea-grass, and their shoes, too, and walked down to the water. “I missed it,” Gil-galad said, and closed his eyes, breathing in the brine. “I missed it badly, all the long years besieging Mordor before I died.”

I think Gil-galad would be very marked by his upbringing first in the Falas and then on Balar; you don't lose that, if you grew up by the sea.

The wind took up his long dark hair and made a banner of it as they walked along the rough crescent of rocky ground where the waves met the shore, and around their bare ankles small stones tumbled back and forth in the lace-edge of the water.

When I was young I used to stand in the water and let the waves bury me up to my ankles, watching the water move in, out, spreading skirts of lace overlapping as new waves came in. I could do it for hours. There's something very liminal about the water's edge, between the solid land and the sea, which is why I put this conversation in it, I think. They're in a liminal space and at a liminal moment. It's the scene the whole story has been inexorably building toward, the point where all Fingon's painful scraping-away of his barriers finally reaches his skin.

“Sometimes in Middle Earth it became very difficult to believe in the Valar,” Gil-galad said, his eyes still closed, “in the blood, and the mud, and the filth. There were so many great and small unfairnesses, day upon day, year upon year.” He opened his eyes and looked towards the Uttermost West where the world ended. “And here it is impossible not to. Look at it!"

This is a little more hopeful than the original version, which I don't have anymore, but went pretty much:

"Sometimes in Middle Earth it was very difficult to believe in the Valar,” Gil-galad said. "In the blood, and the mud, and the filth. There were so many great and small unfairnesses, day upon day, year upon year.”

It was a comment more about Gil-galad's rueful scepticism than wonder - because he fought the Dagorlad before he died, because he spent the last ten years of his life in mud and blood and filth and horror. I work on the First World War - its literary legacy and traces in the decades after, more than its immediate experience or actuality, because there was a ten-year period after 1918 where it was more latent than overt, a traumatic lacuna of silence, a Nachträglichkeit- and I thought in the blood, and the mud, and the filth was a little too on the nose.

I kept it, though, because Tolkien was drawing on his own memories of the trenches with the Dagorlad and the Dead Marshes, with those blurred lines of solid land and mud/bog, the living mixed up with the remains of with the dead, all the themes you see again and again in the war poetry and the officer war-books. (Santanu Das is very good on this, as is Eric Leed). Paul Fussell is a bit old-hat now, but his argument that WWI altered the sensibility of its survivors because of their close, consanguinous co-existence with the dead is something I still find valuable. I think there's a lot of WWI survivor in the way I think of Gil-galad, actually, I'm just realising - not that he survived the Last Alliance. He's detached in a different way from Fingon. Fingon's built himself a thick layer of repression/denial, a kind of callous to protect himself from confronting or thinking about what Maedhros did, and what that means for him and to him; Gil-galad is entirely present, but somewhat detached in some ways, the way people who came back from war could be. Not that Fingon and Finrod aren't also separated from the Amanyar by their time in Beleriand and experience of war and death, but Gil-galad lived there for millennia, and he fought a longer, harder, more total kind of war than they did.

But he's at the Sea of Ekkaia, as west as you can get. So much of Tolkien is about that endless longing glance west, that movement: why is this very westernmost edge so under-explored?

I wanted Gil-galad to be softened by this encounter with the sea, so I went back and let his wonder be as much at the spectacle itself as the sea, like the greater hand at work he had sometimes doubted being visible was something wonderful rather than something to be bitter about. I wanted to position him to be potentially open to, perhaps, the Valar; perhaps, to Fingon. I hope he doesn't come off as closed-minded: I think of him as having a fair mind, and good judgment, but - despite placing him here between the sea and the shore - very clear personal lines between what he thinks is just, and what is not. Certainly, it helps a lot, never having known the Feanorians when they had not fallen.

The seam of the universe pulsed with light, and beyond it was – what?

Unutterable nothingness, something worse than death.

Perhaps Maedhros.

This is an important line for Fingon. He hasn't though the name of his own accord for much of the story, flinching away from it; it's only come in when Finrod and then Gil-galad speak the name. This is the first time he's thought it clearly of his own free will, and this is I think the first signal that he's brought Gil-galad here to be as honest and earnest with him as he can be, however much it hurts, or however much it might drive him away. Because if he isn't, and doesn't, Gil-galad will be driven away anyway, and Fingon wants to be connected with him, the first time he's wanted that kind of bond with anyone since he returned.

(I think of Finrod as someone who just kept turning up, regularly, and forcing Fingon to associate with him; and then bringing Amarie; and then his children; and not taking no for an answer. It bothers Turgon rather terribly that they seem to be friends now, when they were never that close Before: that Fingon pushes him away, but allows Finrod to keep pushing; that Finrod does push. He doesn't know about Gil-galad, of course).

He's brought Gil-galad here to show him if possible that he was wanted, to conjure up lost Ringwil where she might be felt if not found; and to do the same for Maedhros. This is a signal that this journey to the sea is as much about Gil-galad's missing father as his missing mother.

The almost-forgotten tang of salt in the air always mingled with the smell of blood in Fingon’s worst memories, and he was not the only one who remembered. The waves were gentle around Gil-galad’s feet, but they boiled furiously around Fingon’s, delivering small spiteful slaps at his calves.

Spiteful was probably the wrong word here. I don't necessarily mean a dramatic boiling or bubbling; but the water is harsh where it touches him, the kind of slapping roughness you get when the tide is coming in rough.

It took Gil-galad longer to mark the difference, engrossed in the joy of the sea and spectacle as he was, and when he did, his face changed. There was something terribly sad in his eyes when he lifted them from the water to look at Fingon.

It wasn’t why he had brought Gil-galad here; but Fingon didn’t want to imagine the look he would receive if he brushed aside the silent question. “No,” he said. “I am not forgiven.”

“So I see.”

They could probably leave it there.

But Fingon won't, because he's trying. He's really trying to connect after all the time flinching away from it, and he's remembering what Gil-galad said about talking, and what Finrod said about mistakes and silences in their first life.

He said, “You said you loathed the thought of being the son of – a murderer. But my own hands have not been clean since Alqualondë, and death didn’t unstain them. All the time you thought I might be your father, you must have known I was a Kinslayer, too.”

I tried to signal this in their earlier tower conversation with Finrod, and Gil-galad's changing of the topic, but I feel like it's a little abrupt here.

“Yes,” Gil-galad said, and his expression didn’t change. “And when the knights that had served you came to me, they told me that you killed that day in ignorance, that you came upon a battle already being fought; that you took up your sword to save those you loved and didn’t question whether it was just. I heard that from others, too, those who had less reason to bend facts to a flattering pattern; survivors of Gondolin and of Nargothrond. I did ask."

“Ignorance wasn’t an excuse. I died ashamed of it, and I live again with the shame.”

"Good!” said Gil-galad, and there was no forgiveness in his voice, even when Fingon jerked his head up in shock. Instead there was the stern ring of a king used to weighing the ideals of justice against the world as it was, the king who had walked arm in arm with Eonwë the Maia, led his people through many full-fledged wars, and held court and meted justice to them for an Age. “That gives me a far better opinion of you than any of the stories did! I’m glad.”

I remember talking to you about this in the comments, about what it meant that Gil-galad wasn't forgiving him. I think I really meant condone, but I also don't think it's Gil-galad's place to absolve Fingon - he wasn't the one wronged! - and that it's important to me that, because Fingon does truly regret it, he doesn't wish to be absolved, to slide away from it. I don't mean he ought to wallow in it or flog himself with it daily, but I think it would be important to him to shoulder and own that guilt rather than ever allowing himself to put it behind him or have someone else tell him it’s quite all right.

I think this is a moment where I show that they're quite similar, too, because even if Fingon wasn't aware that a bracing, clear assessment was just what he wanted, it was what he needed, rather than people being kind (which he's had a lot of, since he returned; and which hasn't touched that central guilt he's hidden from them, that he loved Maedhros, who had done such terrible things. It's prevented him from accepting kindness made him block people reaching out to him. Gil-galad is not being kind, but just, and still reaching out).

It felt like Fingon had been struggling to take a full lungful of air for a long time, and now something constricting in his chest had loosened, as it hadn’t even after the Valar themselves had judged him. It was only now that he realised that he hadn’t wanted Gil-galad to forgive or absolve him. He had wanted – needed – Gil-galad to be better than him, to withhold forgiveness when it was unmerited; and Gil-galad had. He had become the shining legacy they had all hoped he would be, the thing they had all somehow done right.

The water slapped at his ankles again, in impatient reminder.

This is too brief a transition. I should have fleshed the join out more.

“I think Ulmo would come to you here, if you called. You were a king by the sea in Middle Earth, and you may not remember it, but it was a river who gave you life.”

Gil-galad looked at him as if he’d grown an extra head. “What?”

“I brought you here for a reason,” Fingon said. “Where did they go, the drowned and poisoned rivers of Beleriand? I don’t know; but Ulmo might.”

I've really personified the rivers, but I think it's a clear and easy extrapolation from the Withywindle and the River-daughter in The Fellowship of the Ring that I don't need to justify in order to argue that every river might have had its own attendant Maia-spirit. It does make what happened to the Rivers of Beleriand much worse, though, and I wanted to look at the way a character that was a throwaway mechanism in scion ended up being sickened and dying as horribly as Beleriand did; this story was really about following all those lighter bits in scion home, to the end of the line, and looking at the long-term impacts of something that began more lightly. In this verse, Ringwil was a river, but also a person; and I think of her and Finrod as sharing a strange human-river friendship and overlapping enthusiasms.

He clapped Gil-galad on the shoulder, hoping it said all the things he meant it to say. Affection had been so easy for him once, in the life that had been taken from him by the fiery flails of the Balrogs, but now it came hard, and the sea-smell was in his nose, the terrible memories too close to the surface.

He had surely outstayed Ulmo’s tolerance by now. Fingon left Gil-galad there in the water, and didn’t dare glance back until there was thin sandy soil under his feet again.

Only then did he look once more towards the sea.

Gil-galad was standing in the shallows. His broad shoulders were bunched tight, as if he was readying himself for something very difficult, a confrontation with one of the Valar he had long doubted.

Then he spread his arms out, empty-handed, and tipped his head back, and the light on the horizon grew unbearably bright, whiter than white, more silver than silver; and a face began to move upon the water.

I really like this, honestly. Which I can't/don't say often! The temptation to overwrite this was strong, to show this encounter, to describe the Vala: but I think it's often stronger not to show something numinous, to pull away, to let the mind fill it in.

Again, this is Gil-galad as I imagine him: still somewhat distanced from the Valar by the Dagorlad and the things that happened there (and I think perhaps doubly unhappy in that he lived through the end of an Age once before, and that time, at least, the Valar came: they did not come in the Second, nor send so much as a messenger, and such obscenities as the fall of Ost-in-Edhil and the drowning of Numenor had been allowed to happen, and Men and Elves were left alone to come together and break Sauron's grip). Doubting, but not angry; doubting, but still curious. Open to listening.

a face began to move upon the water is of course a deliberate sideways reference to

And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

-

It took a very long time. Fingon could not watch; his eyes dazzled.

Can you tell I was teaching The Duchess of Malfi at this time? Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle; she died young. That sense of a light too bright and white to look upon; that sense of guilt; that faint reference to life lost untimely. This wasn't meant to be a direct intertextual reference, but that net of meaning was there, lightly. Again, I wanted to under-write rather than over-write. I know I have a tendency to over-write.

And of course - there's a sense here that Fingon is refusing the kind of close enoucnter with Ulmo he could/might have. There's water in his eyes. From the wind?

-

“Thank you,” Gil-galad said when he rejoined him at last. His eyes were glowing, and he whistled Ceredir to him from where he was tearing ropey roots of sea-grass from the dunes with great relish. “Thank you for bringing me here;” and he didn’t say it the way he’d thanked Fingon for the horse, or the armour, or the sword, or even the lance.

Because this is a real gift, something that means something to both of them, something more honest/painful. Fingon's been trying to connect through gifts but not serious conversation or sharing, like some estranged parents do, throwing money at the problem rather than giving of their time or their selves, and however well-meant, it hasn't worked.

“I didn’t truly do anything."

“You brought me to the Sea. I know – I could see – how difficult it was for you."

"Well,” Fingon said lamely. He cleared his throat. “What did Lord Ulmo say about – oh, I can’t call her your dam! – the Maia who bore you? Did she – was she there?”

The dam pun is Finrod's. Don't blame me.

A little of the light dimmed, but it didn’t quite fade away. “No, she’s gone. Back to the Timeless Halls, he says; but one with him again, Ulmo, at the same time.” Gil-galad made a noise. “I don’t pretend to understand any of it, all the metaphysical nonsense of the Ainur! But he was kind to me, and he told me something of her – that she delighted in the making of me.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “I left the flowers we gathered earlier in the waves for her and the sea didn’t dash them back onto the shore. I’m sure Ulmo broke a few laws of Arda there.”

I like this image of the flowers suspended in the water. I had it clearly in mind from before I began to write.

"You were wanted.”

“I’m beginning to believe it,” Gil-galad said.

“You should,” Fingon said. He took a breath. Talking is how you sort things out; and a long time ago, Fingon had been known for his valour. Gil-galad deserved to know how much he had been wanted, who had called himself a political compromise given birth. The truth of that had stung.

And it was less than the truth. Fingon could still remember the first time he had opened his mind to Maedhros over the leagues between them and let him see Gil’s small face through his own eyes, holding nothing back. He had shown Maedhros the dark long lashes and the squashed baby nose, the milk-blister on the bow of Gil’s upper lip, the way his whole head turned an alarming red when he wailed; shared with Maedhros Gil’s fondness for being tossed in the air, his splashing joy in his bath.

This is is me trying to describe a baby without being too sentimental about it, because Fingon wasn't all, oh look at the toesie-woesies, or my son, my son: his eye was more detached, and you see him in scion thinking of Gil-galad as it.

I've been thinking about why Fingon in no way allowed himself to consciously dote on the baby, why that streak of denial that's so strong in his second life was there in his first light, and really: it would have been dangerous to let himself love him, to see Gil as his son and Maedhros's. He was born at a time of terrible loss, after the Flame, when they all expected they could die themselves. He was moved around Beleriand like a game-piece. Fingon was always going to lose him: he wasn't going to get to raise him, after all, until and unless Morgoth was defeated. Maedhros wasn't going to meet him, until and unless &c. It was easier not to let oneself get attached than it was to confront those hard facts and let oneself be hurt by them. Easier to think of him as a baby Finwean prince, and that only: a political pawn, not a son.

Conversely, Maedhros maintains a physical distance, but not an emotional one. Here's a bit from Maedhros's perspective:

Finrod had told him that. They had written, back and forth, in the long months as Ringwil’s belly swelled, as the child formed, as it began to move and stretch and turn frog-like inside her. They had corresponded constantly during the first months of the child’s life in Nargothrond, and during the first months of his life, Finrod had sent long scrolls detailing every change in Artanaro’s weight, his length, his hair colour, his eye colour, how much milk he’d consumed each day: screeds winging forth to Himring until the child was old enough to survive the secret trip north.

Fingon’s letters had been infuriatingly spare of useful information while the child was fostered at Barad Eithel. Beloved, ineloquent Fingon: Fingon, who had nevertheless shown him the child as no reams of paper could.

Fingon had given him forever the rounded bloom of his full cheeks, and the pursed mouth, sullen in sleep: the feathery, rather cross-looking eyebrows, and the small hands with their deep dimples and smaller fingernails, curled into the edge of Fingon’s furred mantle.

Maedhros had felt the way Fingon hovered between wonder and confusion at what they’d wrought: the way he couldn’t quite manage to think of the child as his own, this thing spun out of air and calculation and freshwater into heavy, solid life. He could have loved him so desperately, Maedhros knew that. He was halfway there, hovering in terror on the edge, afraid of falling. If the baby had stayed in Barad Eithel longer; if Fingon had watched him begin to creep around on fat little knees, to pull himself up on the furniture and to take his first steps – to hear the baby babble turn into words and speech – his heart would have opened to him like a flower, and the child would have become the centre of his universe, the sun in his sky.

Fingon had never known what to do with Idril as an infant, either, but he’d easily become an adored uncle as she grew up. If they’d had more time – if the child had been permitted to stay with Fingon even a month longer before being sent for safety to Cirdan –

Well, they’d never had enough time.

There had been few walls between them then, so he had felt Maedhros’s bright joy, the painful love, in its moment of birth: swelling and swelling like a cloud with rain, as though his heart was growing and his blood was leaking out of him at the same time, transmuting into pure tenderness and iron purpose.

I like this because I think of the Ekkaia scene as a cloudburst, full of emotion that has been swelling and swelling and now released. This is one bit of the breaking-through.

He had never needed to ask whether Maedhros considered Gil-galad a son.

“I don’t want to talk about – him,” Fingon said with difficulty, and the salt breeze stung his face, his eyes. “I know you loathe him, and rightly; and I do, too. I do hate him; or I hate what he did. I do! But you should know – you deserve to – that he wanted you, badly, although he never met you; he never wanted the shadow on him to touch you or to taint you.

And this. You can see here where I spun off into cliffs of fall, which isn't a scion story, but sprung out of this speech. It was already there in those sketchy notes, too, a lot of what Fingon's saying here: this important line about hating Maedhros, or what he did (that movement from clear certainty to trying to separate the deeds from the loved one; to urgent reptition - I do! I mean it, I really do! - which means he doesn't, can't: this is the heart of Fingon's guilt, because he wants to hate Maedhros utterly, but he can't, and he is profoundly in denial about that).

“He always wanted children; I took that from him even before the Oath did, but I gave it back to him with you. I loved you first of all for that, but he loved you for yourself. Because you existed, against all hope and possibility and fate and chance; and because you were ours.”

Gil-galad said nothing. There was still a wildflower tucked behind his ear, but the brilliance had quite left his eyes.

“Well,” Fingon said at last. “I needed to tell you that. You should know that you were never – not only – you were wanted very much."

Beloved ineloquent Fingon, &c.

-

They were some miles from the beach when Gil-galad said, “‘Ours’?”

“Yes."

-

I was trying to let the gaps and breaks talk for me in the text. Under-writing.

The beginning was full of these little breaks, too, because they didn't yet know how to talk to each other; now at the end, that connection, and their conversations, are breaking down again. It's echoing that ride together at the beginning very strongly, but now it's not Gil-galad trying to become acquainted and Fingon giving light, unsatisfying answers. These are the real questions/answers at last, and the whole story has really been about getting to the point of Fingon and Gil-galad in Aman where they actually could have the kind of conversation Gil-galad was trying to have at the start.

-

Some miles further, Fingon said, “Did you ever meet him in Beleriand? After I died. I always wondered.”

“No,” Gil-galad said.

It didn’t seem like he was going to speak again, and Fingon had begun to assimilate that knowledge, that pain – that Maedhros had never seen him, had only ever known him through Fingon’s own eyes – when he added,

“But I saw what he did. Have you ever seen a whole city ruined, and known the ruiners to be Elves? It wasn’t even a city, poor Sirion! It was a refuge, a place for the desperate, as far to the West as they could get, as close to the safety of the Sea. They had so very little. No great stone palaces, no towers, no spires. Little enough fresh food. They were able to grow so little, and they lived on fish, and sea-weed, and what brave hunting parties would bring back; and hope. They lived on hope, and they thought Elwing wore it around her throat, but the Valar didn’t come for them: Maedhros Fëanorion and his brothers did instead, and they burned and killed and ravaged. I’d say they salted the earth, but it was salt already. To fall on any innocent Elven city would be a horror: on poor Sirion it was the greatest cruelty I ever saw, and entirely pointless."

They said nothing more.

I like this, too, actually. You see a little here of why Gil-galad might be healthily sceptical of the Valar - they didn't come for them: Maedhros Feanorion and his brothers did instead - and that very post-war experience of seeing a descrated, destroyed town. Worse when you had seen it when it was whole, when you knew the dead and fled.

Sirion is, I think, the worst thing the Feanorions did. I find it worse than even Doriath or Alqualonde (though they're all awful!). These were desperate survivors, huddled together at the edge of the sea for protection. So many of their leaders had been killed or lost. Idril and Tuor had disappeared; Earendil was away; Maedhros and the others struck while only Elwing was there, and she was so young, and so alone, and so damaged already by what they'd done in Doriath. And now they’d come again. There's something about the revictimisation that gets me. It's awful.

I wanted it to be weight and counter-weight - that soft, painful, remembered moment of Maedhros seeing baby Gil-galad through Fingon's eyes, something Fingon has clearly not deliberately thought about since he was reborn, but dredges up now for Gil-galad, because he should know: and which is echoed in the beginning by Fingon's question to Finrod. But Maedhros is still the person who did the things he did, and I wanted to set that soft moment of truth against his deeds at Sirion, another truth, to point out clearly why Gil-galad would recoil so hard from this offering, this honesty Fingon wants to be able to give him. This is the dichotomy at the heart of the story: reconciling Maedhros and how one felt for him with what he did, and how one feels about that. It is irresolvable, at least for Fingon, at least at the moment I've ended it at for now.

I don't know if this is quite what you wanted, @warrioreowynofrohan, especially because like I said, I wrote this story in a frantic fog, but I hope this in some way suffices!

[hetalia-has-a-secretary]

Axis + Prussia and Allies + Canada playing Sims with their lover who loves the Sims (I’m asking this cause I love Sims)

... I will not lie I have Sims and the fact I haven't made me and Russ is dissapointing at best. Going to have to fix that...

Allies and Axis (Prussia and Canada): Play Sims with their S/O!

Allies:

America:

His sims is immediately friends with everyone, especially that goth family.

Has more friendships with the children and is pretty much a babysitter.

Definitely cheated to get the most money because he didn't have patience to earn it.

SPACE CADET TIME! His sims room is space Everything, and an American flag if possible.

He made his Sim look like him, obviously.

Has a doggo named Pluto.

When he felt like he accomplished what he wanted he decided to go and murder the neighbors because he wanted their house, and couldn't have it.

He has split the house in two so his S/O can decorate the way they want! Always compliments them too!

Him and his S/O made a roulette wheel that usually causes chaos and breaks the game.

England:

He made both his S/O and him as sims and they share a file.

Was a mistake because his S/O filled his house with plants, and he couldn't figure out how to sell them all.

Had to restart.

His Sim works as a freelance writer.

The house is pretty much a mystery murder mansion, where he actively gets people killed only to play detective.

Doesn't ever go well.

Has kept a room specific for his S/Os plants.

France:

Spends most of his time decorating, and editing his sims.

His wall decorations consist of nothing but paintings his Sim painted.

Nothing else

He didn't really want his Sim to be so flirty with literally everyone.

Still laughs when his Sim gets slapped.

Has no clue how to build a second floor, and his S/O chose to let him suffer

His house changes theme every couple of weeks.

His S/O logged on one day to the whole house filled with books like a giant library with death casually eating a hot dog.

Confusion resumed.

China:

He had to choice the highest paying job, and has the prettiest house.

He made a whole family with his S/O.

The children are Panda 1 through 5.

They lost two of them the first couple days due to the amount of filth that piled up.

One child kind of just, left and didn't return?

As a joke, his S/O locked his Sim out of the bedroom and he couldn't figure out how to get back in.

He did know how to rebuild the house.

The goth child scares him.

Russia:

Absolutely loves the game.

They made themselves as sims, and after a week or two his S/O had to interview Russia as to why there was 3 kids in the house all of a sudden.

Was painfully upset there was no sunflowers.

But has a garden of deadly plants, and a single cow plant.

He has taken it upon himself to kill all the Sims, Despite his S/O protest

Thinks the goth family is cool, so they die last ^J^

Has an ungodly amount of cats.

One of them is named Kot.

Canada:

He's a major vanilla player.

Also just let's his sims do whatever they want, and it's funny to him.

Doesn't call it Sims. He kikes calling it the babysitter simulator.

His S/O showed him the cow plant.

He wants 5 and has named all of them.

Also has a dog named Bruce.

Axis:

Germany:

It's already cannon that he plays work simulators.

So his Sim does nothing but work, farm, and sleep

Accidentally killed his Sim because he managed to trap it in the bathroom, and forgot about it.

He likes walking away from his game so he can pick up after the messes the Sims make.

When his S/O plays with him, he Pretty much does what they want.

They share a sim, and he had a nice chuckle when he logged on to the whole house covered in pink.

Pranks consist between them now.

Japan:

Has way to many Mods.

Knows how to get away with murder and steals stuff rather than buying it.

He loves watching his S/O play, it makes him happy.

Knows how to play, but doesn't because he spends most of his time being a sneak and cheating the system.

Dogs. So many dogs.

He adopted a random child of the street and named it KawaiiKaiju as a joke.

Loves pranking his S/O on their shared file.

He turned the whole house into a maze and the both of them enjoy tormenting the Sims

Did I mention they have two sims who are the male and female versions of Hatsune Miku?

Also spent way too much time on that.

His S/O spent a month not knowing about the secret attic that he built for their sims wedding.

Italy:

Finds the game relaxing, and loves watching them be all chaotic.

He really wanted a child sim, and his S/O made an old sims.

The house is run by Italy's sim.

Was sad when his Sim grew up, but filled the void by flirting with the goth mom.

That's his wife now.

She actually killed him one week after marriage and he doesn't know why, neither does his S/O.

Loves the kitty cats in the game.

Has three cats.

His S/O has to take control very often to avoid him breaking the game.

They did make one of the prettiest gardens in the game though.

Prussia:

Made his Sim as evil as possible, but his S/O's sim is just as bad.

Neither him or his S/O have a plan, and it's just chaos.

His S/O made the mistake of letting him decorate the house

It's a mess and nothing makes sense.

And he's made it so it takes any sims trying to rob them virtually impossible.

Other than that he prefers to let his S/O take over

He loves seeing how their mind works, and enjoys seeing them happy.

He hits top level mechanic and moves on to mathematics for fun.

Their sims had a child and Prussia named it Awesome JR.

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust / 1

🔖 [first] [prev] [next]

🔖 lots of exposition in this one 🥺 zhongli gets more screentime in later ones i promise

---

ch 1 | the hole in the wall

    Nothing had gone according to plan.

    The men guarding your cell were supposed to be gone for their dinner break. They weren’t supposed to come back so soon. They weren’t supposed to come back red in the face, drunk and fumbling and loud as they tried to unlock the door to the rundown wooden hut that served as your prison and their hideout.

    You knew what happened when they got drunk. You knew that they’d be in your cell, poking and prodding you — they’d never harm valuable merchandise, but they’d certainly get real close. And if they saw the gaping hole in the corner under the wall—

    You had dug that hole over the past two months, first with your bare hands then with a metal spoon that they had been careless enough to let you have off a plate. You had been careful to hide it with straw and rocks until now, but with your latest efforts, it had grown too big to be hidden.

    Tonight. You were going to escape tonight. Another hour or two and you would have been free. Would have felt the wind in your hair and grass under your feet for the first time since these men — no, these piles of human filth, these human traffickers — stole you away from Liyue harbor. (You’d been the perfect target, after all, a grimy street rat with no family to speak of, no one who cared enough to report you missing.)

    You bit back a sob as you heard the jingle of keys from outside. The hole gaped in the corner of the stone wall, taunting you, too big to hide but too small to crawl through. When they found the hole, what would they do to you? You’d seen what they were capable of, what they had done to the other women who tried to escape.

    If only you hadn’t wandered onto the harbor, late that night, trying to catch a glimpse of the floating lights, the lingering vestiges of the Lantern Rite festival. If only you had run a little faster, a little further, when the two masked men had started chasing you. If only someone had stopped to help you before they caught you in the alley. Anguish and regret welled in your throat, threatening to spill out in a scream. If /only/.

    In the clenched fist of your right hand, something glowed bright and warm. You opened your fingers, and stared. In the middle of your palm was an orange gem that was certainly not there before. Etched across its beautiful, faintly glowing facets is a dark black symbol — a diamond, two lines converging in its middle. You knew the symbol of Geo like the back of your hand — how could you not? It was the symbol of prosperity in Liyue — the element of Rex Lapis, Liyue’s founding God, the most powerful Archon to emerge from the Archon War.

    The gemstone in your hand — a Geo Vision? The first emotion to emerge from the whirlwind stuck in your throat was: disbelief. Visions only appeared to people who were worthy of attention from the Archons. A sliver of their divine power.

    You, who could count on one hand the number of hot meals you’d had in your life, who had never so much owned a pair of shoes to cover the soles of your feet, were not one of those /worthy/ people. There was no doubt in your mind about that. It was a mistake that this Vision had appeared to you, a careless oversight on Rex Lapis’ part.

    Outside, you heard the men unlock the door.

    But mistake or no, Archon be damned, you would use it. /How do you use a Vision?/ You let its warmth fill you, willing desperately for the earth, stone and soil to fill the hole back in. /Please,/ you begged, sinking to your knees and closing your eyes. A sudden calm, and something washed over you, through your veins.

    When you opened your eyes, the hole was gone. You could just barely see where new stone met the old, dusty wall. 

    Behind you, the men filed into the hut. You stuffed the Vision down your ragged shirt, praying that they were too drunk to notice the faint, warm glow pulsing under the dirty shirt. One of the men hurled a string of obscenities at you before settling back into their posts. They did not come into your cell. Another blessing.

    You barely had time to feel relief, before the despair set in. All those hours of digging, of furiously scraping your fingernails clean of dirt and grime, of carefully arranging straw over the gradually growing hole — all gone within seconds.

    The Vision pulsed gently against your chest, as though to remind you that none of that mattered anymore.

    Nothing had gone according to plan, indeed.

    You’d need to learn how to use the Vision. You would learn. And when you did, you’d make sure that these men suffered every second of anguish that they had caused you, that they had caused the other women and children who had shared this prison with you.

    “I know that this wasn’t meant for me, but please forgive me for borrowing it, just for a little while.” Under your breath, you whispered an apology to Rex Lapis. You prayed that he heard you.

---

    Across the harbor, at a table in Wanmin restaurant, Zhongli took a long sip of his chrysanthemum tea.

    “Mr. Zhongli!” The head chef’s bright voice cut through his thoughts like a hot knife. “You’ve barely touched your food! Was it not to your liking today?”

    “Oh,” Zhongli breathed, looking up to smile gently at the girl. “Nothing of the sort, Xiangling. It was superb, as always.” He glanced back down at the Black Perch Stew that had long since grown cold. The fact that he’d lost his appetite was nothing short of a tragedy. 

    “Though I must apologize,” he continued, “I’ve just remembered something that urgently requires my attention. Could you pack this up for me, please?”

[the-delta-42]

Broken

@gale-of-the-nomads you said I could and now you can’t stop me.

Broken

Kagami did not know what happened. She saw Lila and everything went black.

“Kagami, stop!”

Kagami kept hearing excerpts of what happened, Marinette was shouting. But Marinette never really shouted.

The distinctive sound of metal hitting metal rang through the air.

“Kagami, this isn’t how you are!”

“Kagami, please, listen to me!”

Kagami took in her surroundings, she was in an interrogation room, handcuffed to the table. It was only then she noticed the blood on her hands.

What did she do?

The door opened, Kagami expected her family’s lawyer to walk in, but a young woman, roughly ten years older than Kagami herself walked in and stood in front of her.

“Kagami Tsurugi?” Asked the Woman, Kagami was struck by how similar she looked to Marinette, with the difference of hair and eye colour. Where Marinette’s eyes alternated between blue and grey, the woman’s eyes were a warm green colour and while Marinette’s hair was black, this woman’s hair was a soft brown colour, like Marinette’s father’s hair.

Kagami nodded.

“Skye Dupain,” Said Skye, “I’ve been asked to handle this matter, which was easier than expected, since there was no one else.”

Kagami’s heart sank, her mind already connecting the dots.

“Do you know what you’re being charged with?” Asked Skye, looking at Kagami, who shook her head, “They’re holding you for ‘attempted murder’ of a girl your age, with one eyewitness supporting this claim.”

“M-Marinette told them that?” Whispered Kagami, making Skye look down at her.

“Mlle. Dupain-Cheng is listed as the victim, Mlle. Rossi is the witness listed on the file.” Said Skye, glancing through the document, “I want you to tell me, in your own words, what happened?”

B

Kagami spotted Lila shoving Marinette against the locker, a bag of swords that D’Argencourt kept in the school falling from the top of the locker, before jamming a knee into her gut and throwing her on the floor. Marinette’s side hit a bench as she went down.

“You’re pathetic.” Sneered Lila, “You say you love Adrien, but you give him up for some other bitch.”

“That,” Gasped Marinette, slowly getting to her feet, “was Adrien’s choice.”

Lila sneered and kicked Marinette in the side, knocking her back to the floor, before stepping on Marinette’s right hand and pushing down on it until she heard a crack and a cry of pain from Marinette.

“You know you never had a chance with Adrien, don’t you?” Snarled Lila, punctuating each word with a kick, “he’d never be interested in a piece of filth like you.”

Marinette grabbed Lila’s foot mid swing and knocked the other one out from under the Italian. Lila let out a yelp as she fell, as Marinette slowly got to her feet.

“You know what?” Said Marinette, holding her side, trying to ignore the pain, “I can live with that. As long as Adrien is happy, I can be happy. Love isn’t something that requires both parties to feel the same way, because if you truly love someone, then seeing them happy is enough.”

Kagami felt touched by what Marinette had said, before Lila snarled and grabbed one of the swords from the bag and went to stab Marinette with it. Something in Kagami broke, growling as she charged forwards grabbing the sword from Lila’s hand and swing it at her.

Marinette stood frozen, watching as Kagami started to attack Lila, mentally arguing on if she should stop Kagami or remain out of the fight. The decision was made for her when Lila tripped and landed on her rear. In a flash of movement, Marinette had grabbed a sword from the bag and parried Kagami’s jab away from the liar.

“Kagami, listen to me,” Said Marinette, her breath shaky, “you need to calm down.”

Kagami roared and went to slash at Lila, Marinette making sure to keep the blade from connecting with Lila.

“Kagami, stop!” Cried Marinette, as she parried another jab aimed at Lila, the distinctive sound of metal hitting metal rang through the air, “Kagami, this isn’t how you are!”

“She needs to be punished!” Snarled Kagami, advancing towards Marinette.

“Kagami, please, listen to me!” Yelled Marinette, “This isn’t you! Please, you need to calm down!”

Kagami lunged forwards, with Marinette going to parry from Kagami’s previous position. The blade slid between Marinette’s ribs, the girl felt a pain in her chest, before she felt the sword poke out her back. The sword Marinette had been holding fell to the floor.

“Kagami…” Said Marinette, as she struggled to breath, coughing up some blood as she spoke. The sword was removed.

There was silence, before the sword clattered to the floor, joining its partner. Marinette felt her legs give way beneath her, while Lila smirked viciously, before letting out a scream. Kagami stood frozen, as she stared at the blood coating her hands.

B

Kagami stared at her hands in horror, “I killed her.”

“Marinette is still alive, she has a punctured lung and a cut artery, but nothing too fatal.” Said Skye, looking down at Kagami, as the Japanese girl started to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, in through the nose, out through the mouth.” Soothed Skye, “Marinette’s fine, she’s going to make a full recovery.”

Kagami followed Skye’s instructions, inhaling deeply through her nose and exhaling through her mouth.

“Until Marinette wakes up, you’re going to be kept here,” Said Skye, gently, “I’m sure once she’s awake, you’ll be able to go home.”

Kagami nodded, before Skye left and a police officer arrived to take Kagami back to the cell she’d been allocated.

B

Adrien stared down at Marinette’s unconscious form. He didn’t want to believe what Lila had said, that Kagami had attacked and tried to kill Marinette, but without anyone else to give an alternative take on what happened, he couldn’t do anything but believe what had been said. He’d tried to think of everything that he thought could explain it, other than Lila lying, Kagami being akumatized, Marinette getting stabbed by someone else and Kagami was the one who found her, anything that wasn’t that Kagami had lied to both of them and deliberately tried to kill Marinette.

But what if she did?

Adrien shook his head, trying to dispel the thought from his mind. He had already heard from his father that he was to break up with Kagami, he didn’t want her actions to tarnish the Gabriel brand. Everyone was treating Lila like a hero, except the select few of Nino, Alya and himself, the three of them more concerned with Marinette’s situation.

“The doctors said she had a couple of broken ribs and a broken hand.” Said Alya, quietly, “They think that Kagami, or whoever did this, was already attacking her before she was stabbed.”

Adrien saw Alya tightly holding her phone, her knuckles slowly going white, every time someone was akumatized, there was a side effect, Alya couldn’t be separated from her phone, Nino couldn’t hold or come in contact with bubbles and Juleka couldn’t look at her reflection.

Everyone who had been Akumatized was left with an invisible scar, Damocles would hoot and Bustier was say ‘kissu’ at random points while talking. Perhaps Kagami was left with a serious aggression.

But that didn’t explain how or why Marinette was stabbed. Marinette looked so small, the bed spanning around her, as if she were an island in the middle of a sea of white and blue. Marinette suddenly started jerking, as if someone had grabbed her by the throat.

Within moments, a doctor, nurse and a couple of orderlies rushed into the room.

“Right, she’s choking.” Said the Doctor, as one of the orderlies guided the group out of the room. The door closed before any of them could hear what the Doctor said next a few minutes later the Doctor stalked out of the room and headed to a desk.

Before Adrien knew it, he was in the corridor, with Gorilla watching from the end of the hall.

Adrien was just leaving class when he heard the scream. In the back of his mind, he was able to identify the voice belonging to Lila, but still, he ran to the source, skidding to a stop when he reached the locker room. Lila was plastering herself against the wall, while Marinette lied in a steadily growing pool of her own blood.

With Kagami standing over her. With Marinette’s blood on her hands. Adrien froze, absently aware of Kim rushing past him and tackling Kagami to the floor. Alya started calling for an ambulance, while Ms. Bustier and Ms. Mendeleiev started applying what first aid training they knew, being careful to stem the bleeding as best they could.

“I really don’t know what good this is going to do.” Said Mendeleiev, checking Marinette’s pulse, “Since she’s discharging blood from her mouth, we know she has internal bleeding.”

“Demeter,” Said Bustier, looking sick, “Can you, kissu, please not say that.”

Mendeleiev looked around, noticing the pale faces of the students.

“All of you, go to the library.” Barked the Teacher, making most of the students’ scatter.

“Alya, could you please take Lila to the staff room?” Asked Bustier, as an ambulance pulled up outside the school.

Adrien had been guided away by Nino, when Alya took Lila to the staffroom. There was a commotion by the lifts, Adrien looked up and saw a young woman, roughly Ms. Bustier’s age, stalking towards them. Adrien was struck by how much she looked like Marinette, with the exception of her hair and eyes, being light brown and green respectively.

“I’m looking for the Dupain-Chengs.” Said the woman, in place of introductions or greetings.

“They’ve gone to close their bakery up.” Said Alya, after a moments silence.

The woman growled, before fishing her phone out of her pocket. Adrien frowned, quickly noting that it was an older style of mobile, early 2000’s, and not one of the latest models like most people went for.

“Mike, where are you?” Demanded the woman, Adrien had the sinking feeling that both the woman and ‘Mike’ were Mrs. Tsurugi’s lawyers, “Okay, if you’re there, then they can’t be home yet.”

The woman stiffened, before her attitude changed entirely, “Ah, hi… Okay, I’ll wait for you to arrive at the hospital… No, I don’t think anyone’s been able to raise Toby, we’d need a fucking Ouija Board.”

The woman nodded and confirmed a few things, before hanging up. She then turned to Alya.

“I take it you’re Alya?” Asked the Woman, looking at the Creole girl.

“I am.” Said Alya, drawing the same conclusions as Adrien.

The woman took them all by surprise by smiling widely and grabbing Alya’s hands, “Mari’s told me so much about you, I’m Skye, Marinette’s sister.”

“I… didn’t know Marinette had a sister.” Said Alya, after a moment.

Skye was still for a moment, before slowly turning to Nino.

“I didn’t recognise you.” Said Nino, quickly throwing his hands up.

Skye only narrowed her eyes, before her gaze settled on Adrien, “And you must be the pretty boyfriend of the girl who stabbed my sister.”

Skye’s tone wasn’t accusatory, merely factual.

“Soon to be ex.” Said Adrien, keeping his tone level.

Skye wrinkled her nose, before she started to circle Adrien, frowning as she went. Skye stopped and glared at Adrien.

“If what I’m told is true,” Said Skye, her tone cold, “being akumatized affects everyone differently, each victim having an invisible scar that they have to live with every day. Ms. Tsurugi was not in control of her actions and, while Marinette is still unconscious, we only have the testimony of a teenage girl who claimed to witness the entire thing but didn’t alert anyone until after someone had been stabbed and remained calm as she recounted every detail.”

Adrien could’ve sworn that the room temperature dropped.

“And that isn’t taking into account her… ‘exceptional’ lifestyle that is faker that Kim Kardashian’s ‘assets.’” Skye’s glare pinned Adrien in place, “But, seeing as you’re more of a wet blanket-”

“That’s enough, Skye.” Said a gruff, yet at the same time soft, voice, making everyone look towards the entrance.

“Michael, you got here faster than I expected.” Said Skye, leaning back on her heels, “I was just talking to Mari’s friends.”

Michael looked like an older, male, taller version of Marinette, except his eyes were a mixture of blue and grey. Michael had three pale scars that ran from the middle of his cheek to his jaw.

“Skye, you’re not in court,” Sighed Michael, before looking into Marinette’s room, “I take it she hasn’t woken up?”

“No, but she started choking on something just before I got here.” Said Skye, folding her arms.

“Well, I’m sure she’s going to be fine.” Said Michael, turning to look at Marinette’s friends. His gaze slowly went over the three, before settling on Adrien, “Relax, you look like you’ve got a foil shoved up your butt.”

Adrien let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You’re Emilie’s son, aren’t you?” Asked Michael, making Adrien stiffen.

“Wait, Emilie?” Asked Skye, whipping around to look at Michael, “You mean that actress you loved? The one you met while on work experience. The one you fainted in front of when she introduced herself to you?”

Michael slowly turned and glared at Skye, “That was one time.”

“Yeah, but you were bitching about how your life was over because your idol saw you act weird.” Snickered Skye, as Michael slowly grew redder.

“Well, at least I didn’t moan when I met Dark Owl.” Snarled Michael, making Skye freeze.

“Take that back!” Demanded Skye, as she went red as well.

“Make me!” retorted Michael, before a hand grabbed his ear, while the person’s other grabbed Skye’s ear.

Both suddenly paled, and silently sent a prayer to a powerful and merciless god, before they were tugged down to their mother’s level.

“Stop it, both of you.” Growled Sabine, before butting their heads together.

Michael and Skye recoiled and grabbed the point of impact on their heads. The two glared at each other, before they turned and look at their parents.

“Sorry, mum.” They said in unison.

“Anyway, why does it matter who his mother is?” Asked Skye, gesturing to Adrien.

“Because his father is a controlling, abusive dick.” Said Michael, as he stopped rubbing his head, “In the month I worked with her, he stormed on set six or seven times and had to escorted off by security.”

Adrien was silent as he processed the information, he’d never heard about this side of his father. It did fit some of his father’s attitudes and actions.

“He… He did tell me to break up with Kagami after the news broke.” Said Adrien, quietly.

Michael had a smug look on his face, until Skye punched his arm. Skye then turned to Adrien and spoke to him, “Do you have any other family members that can take care of you? An aunt or set of grandparents, perhaps?”

“T-there’s my Aunt Amelie.” Said Adrien, making Skye nod and walked away, pulling her phone from her pocket as she did so.

“What’s she doing?” Asked Adrien, frantically looking around.

“Most likely contacting Child Services,” Said Michael, looking down at the panicking blond, “Since you literally just told us that your father has near total control over your life.”

Adrien looked around the room again, his breathing starting to come out in rapid puffs. He vaguely heard Michael swear as the world went dark.

B

Amelie Graham-De-Vanily quietly swirled her tea around in her cup. One of the two rings laid on the table. Felix had decided to go to bed early, since he’d pulled an all-nighter the previous night. She jumped when the phone suddenly rang. She spotted the number was from France and scowled, no doubt Gabriel noticed the ring was missing.

“Hello, Amelie Graham-De-Vanily speaking, can I help you?” Asked Amelie, already knowing Gabriel was going to be as hostile as possible.

“Mrs. Graham-De-Vanily? My name’s Skye Dupain,” Said a young woman’s voice, a French accent tinting her English, “I’m calling to inform you about the current legal situation with Gabriel Agreste and that you’re currently Adrien’s only known living relative.”

Amelie paused, before frowning, “What has my idiot of a Brother-In-Law done now?”

“Currently we’re investigating him on suspicion of neglecting and coercively controlling his son.” Said Skye, making Amelie stiffen.

‘Well, that explains why Adrien wasn’t able to attend my husband’s funeral.’ Thought Amelie, as Skye let her take it all in.

“Do you have any residences in Paris that you and your son can stay at while the investigation is on-going?” Asked Skye, “We’re going to need Adrien to remain in Paris, as this concerns him, and we will need his testimony in the case.”

“I believe I have a house somewhere in Paris,” Said Amelie, oblivious to Felix picking up another phone and listening in, “I’ll have to check, but are you sure Gabriel is abusing Adrien? I know he’s been distant since Emelie died, but actively neglecting and controlling Adrien’s life?”

“I’m not at liberty to say at the moment,” Said Skye, “But, we have gone over the case and spoken to a few employees. One has given cause for concern, but that is another case that’s also ongoing.”

“Right,” Said Amelie, sighing, “I’ll let Felix know and be there as soon as possible.”

“Right, thank you for your time.” Said Skye, before hanging up.

Amelie kept the phone to her ear, before saying, “Felix, you’re supposed to be asleep.”

There was a loud groan, before the phone was hung up and Felix stomped his was down the stairs.

“What’s this about Adrien being abused?” Demanded Felix, making Amelie sigh again.

B

Skye put her phone back in her pocket, before looking down at the case file in front of her. It was thick with sheets of paper filled with testimonies, bank statements and other pieces of legal evidence. Skye looked over at the other files, one filled with unfair dismissal cases, another filled with evidence of illegal substances and purchases, a third filled with Gabriel’s concerning relationship with Gabriel Agreste, the fourth filled with Emelie Agreste’s ‘disappearance’ and the subsequent unsolved investigation and the final one filled with the case that concerned Ms. Tsurugi and Marinette. Skye had said to her boss that she shouldn’t handle a case that involved her sister, but their firm was a total of five people, two of which were on holiday and another was off sick after taking a dip in the Seine.

There was a knock on the door, before a Japanese man strode into the office.

“I assume you’re the one handling Ms. Kagami’s case?” Asked the man, holding a thin folder.

“I am.” Said Skye, leaning back in her chair.

“These are the disinheritance forms signed by one Tomoe Tsurugi in regard to one Kagami Tsurugi.” Said the man, dropping the file on Skye’s desk, “I tried to talk her out of it, but that only resulted in Tsurugi dismissing me from her service.”

The man left without another word, before Skye groaned and slumped forwards.

B

Kagami sat in the corner of her cell, waiting for her mother to turn up. Part of her wanted her mother to tell her everything would be okay, but it’d been a week since she’d been brought here, and her mother had yet to show up.

There was a knock on her cell door, before it was unlocked and allowed Skye to walk in.

“Kagami,” Said Skye, hesitantly broaching the subject, “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Kagami stared up at Skye, trying to read her body language.

“I’m afraid your mother has chosen to disown you,” Said Skye, slowly, “her former solicitor approached me last night with the paperwork.”

Kagami didn’t react, she just stared at Skye, as the young woman waited for a response.

“This makes your case incredibly complicated, as we will need to find a family for you for when all this draws to a close.” Said Skye, running her hand through her hair, “But, don’t worry. I promise we’ll have something sorted out before everything’s over.”

Skye was quickly ushered out of the cell, leaving Kagami alone. Kagami sat still for a few moments, before pulling her knees to her chest and started crying.

B

Alya watched Marinette’s chest rise a fall; she no longer needed a ventilator to help her breath, of course, Marinette had to learn to breath on her own again; so, they made sure they had someone in the room with her. The nurse was reading a magazine in the corner, keeping one eye on Marinette.

“Kitty Section got a new gig this week,” Said Alya, quietly talking to Marinette, “Nino’s got one tomorrow, he hopes he’ll get his big break and fix all the problems in the world.”

Marinette said nothing, as usual.

“Lila’s been unbearable since this all started.” Said Alya, wincing at the thought, “Your, er, sister inspired me to do some research. You were right, Lila has been lying.”

Alya reached out and grasped Marinette’s hand, rested her head on the bed.

“Adrien’s been living with his aunt and cousin,” Said Alya, her eyes closing, “apparently his Dad was controlling him, which actually lost him custody and since there are rumours that he’s unfairly dismissed people and had an inappropriate relationship with people who’ve been underage, I think it’s fair to say that he’s no longer someone anyone want to be associated with.”

Marinette’s hand suddenly tightened and relaxed, making Alya bolt upright.

“M-Mari?” Gasped Alya, getting the nurses attention.

“What’s wrong?” Asked the nurse, approaching Alya.

“M-Marinette just squeezed my hand.” Stammered Alya, before the nurse turfed her out of the room.

B

Lila entered the classroom, expecting everyone to crowd around her and take everything she said as gospel, but instead she found them all laughing and hugging over something.

“Lila!” Cried Rose, spotting the Italian, “Have you heard the news?”

“What news?” Asked Lila, already thinking up a way to make it about her.

“Marinette’s woken up!” Cried Rose, happily embracing Lila.

Lila’s mind screeched to a halt, if Marinette had woken up, then she’d tell everyone what actually happened and everything Lila had would vanish.

“T-that’s great.” Said Lila, quickly glancing around, “Are we allowed to see her?”

“The police were speaking to her when Alya left,” Said Alix, frowning at Lila, “Alya was in the toilet when she woke up. Marinette’s mum was with her when she woke.”

Lila swallowed her nervousness, quickly thinking on how she could turn this to keep the consequences away from her.

“How can they be sure Marinette remember what happened exactly?” Asked Lila, getting a few frowns.

“Well,” Said Max, pushing his glasses up, “they’ll ask Marinette what happened and depending on if her story matches to what either you or Kagami said, then they’ll carry on from there.”

Lila gnawed on her lower lip, before the conversation moved on. If she went home, perhaps she’d be able to convince her mother to move to another country. Things had started to get stale anyway.

Half-way through the lesson, a woman and a couple police officers knocked on the classroom door.

“Please forgive the intrusion, Mdme. Bustier,” Said the woman, quickly flashing her badge at the teacher, “but we need to speak with Mlle. Rossi, regarding the currently ongoing cases, regarding her employment at Gabriel and the attack on Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”

Mdme. Bustier nodded, before turning back to the class. Lila wasn’t out of the room, before she screamed, “Marinette and Kagami planned everything to discredit me!”

The detective and police officers all stopped, all eyes were on Lila, as the Italian finally realised what she just said.

“We haven’t even asked you anything,” Said the detective, slowly, “and that’s the first thing you choose to say?”

Lila nervously looked around, before she was guided out of the classroom. She was guided to the Principle’s office, where she found her mother waiting for her.

“Mama!” Gasped Lila, her eyes darting around, “What are you doing here?”

“I heard the Police wanted to speak to my daughter and I decided to be with you as emotional support.” Said Mdme. Rossi, as Lila slowly paled.

“Mlle. Rossi,” Said the Detective, sitting in a chair opposite Lila and her mother, “I was hoping you could walk me through everything that happened when Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was stabbed.”

“Oh, it was horrible!” Cried Lila, burying her face in her hands, to hide her lack of tears, “Kagami was out of control, she kept hacking at Marinette! I could only scream when she finally stabbed her!”

The detective was silent, before she leaned forwards, “And when did Mlle. Tsurugi break Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s ribs?”

“Just before she stabbed her.” Gasped Lila, pushing her hands in her face.

“And her hand?” Questioned the detective.

“Before she broke her ribs.” Said Lila, feigning a sniffle.

“That’s odd.” Said the Detective, locking her fingers together, “Because, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s ribs are broken at the back and on the opposite side to her hand. So, unless Mlle. Tsurugi rolled her over and then stomped on her hand, then the footage we’ve got is wrong.”

Lila’s world broke.

B

Marinette shifted slightly, she’d been discharged from hospital and was about to go into the witness box.

“The people call Marinette Dupain-Cheng to the stand.” Said One of Skye’s business partners, Malcolm.

Getting sworn in was reasonably quick and Malcolm started asking questions.

“Mlle. Dupain-Cheng,” Started Malcolm, “Could you tell us what happened the day you were stabbed?”

Marinette took a deep breath.

B

Lila shoved Marinette against the locker, she was vaguely aware of a bag with something metal in it falling to the ground, before Lila jammed her knee into her gut and threw her on the floor. Marinette’s side hit a bench as she went down.

“You’re pathetic.” Sneered Lila, “You say you love Adrien, but you give him up for some other bitch.”

“That,” Gasped Marinette, slowly getting to her feet, “was Adrien’s choice.”

Lila sneered and kicked Marinette in the side, knocking her back to the floor, before she stepped on Marinette’s right hand and pushed down on it until she heard a crack and a cry of pain from Marinette. Marinette was fairly sure it was broken.

“You know you never had a chance with Adrien, don’t you?” Snarled Lila, punctuating each word with a kick, “he’d never be interested in a piece of filth like you.”

Marinette grabbed Lila’s foot mid swing and knocked the other one out from under the Italian. Lila let out a yelp as she fell, as Marinette slowly got to her feet.

“You know what?” Said Marinette, holding her side, trying to ignore the pain of a broken rib, “I can live with that. As long as Adrien is happy, I can be happy. Love isn’t something that requires both parties to feel the same way, because if you truly love someone, then seeing them happy is enough.”

Lila snarled and grabbed something from the bag, a sword, and went to stab Marinette with it. Marinette heard someone growling before Kagami charged forwards grabbed the sword from Lila’s hand and swing it at the Italian.

Marinette stood frozen, watching as Kagami started to attack Lila, mentally arguing on if she should stop Kagami or remain out of the fight. The decision was made for her when Lila tripped and landed on her rear. In a flash of movement, Marinette had grabbed a sword from the bag and parried Kagami’s jab away from the liar.

“Kagami, listen to me,” Said Marinette, her breath shaky, “you need to calm down.”

Kagami roared and went to slash at Lila, Marinette making sure to keep the blade from connecting with Lila.

“Kagami, stop!” Cried Marinette, as she parried another jab aimed at Lila, the distinctive sound of metal hitting metal rang through the air, “Kagami, this isn’t how you are!”

“She needs to be punished!” Snarled Kagami, advancing towards Marinette.

“Kagami, please, listen to me!” Yelled Marinette, “This isn’t you! Please, you need to calm down!”

Kagami lunged forwards, with Marinette going to parry from Kagami’s previous position. The blade slid between Marinette’s ribs, the girl felt a pain in her chest, before she felt the sword poke out her back. The sword Marinette had been holding fell to the floor.

“Kagami…” Said Marinette, as she struggled to breath, coughing up some blood as she spoke. The sword was removed. Everything then went dark, before she opened her eyes again to a brightly coloured room.

B

“After I woke up,” Said Marinette, trying to stay calm, “the Police asked me what happened I told them what I just told you.”

“Just to clarify,” Said Malcolm, smirking at Lila’s lawyer, “Mlle. Tsurugi didn’t attack you, but entered a blind rage when she saw you in danger and, excluding the already existing injuries, you were only injured because you got between her and Mlle. Rossi?”

“Yes.” Said Marinette, clearly.

“No further questions.” Said Malcolm, as Lila’s Lawyer stood up.

“Mlle. Dupain,” Said the Lawyer, an old, balding, fat man who looked at Marinette as if she was a piece of dirt.

“Dupain-Cheng.” Corrected Marinette, her tone flat.

“Dupain-Cheng,” Said the Lawyer, “is it true that you do not like my client?”

“I don’t dislike Lila,” Said Marinette, carefully adjusting herself so she didn’t aggravate the stab wound, “I dislike the lies she is telling people, as it plays with their emotions and their dreams for their future.”

“But you have no proof she’s lying.” Said the Lawyer, smugly.

“On her first day, I saw her steal a book that belonged to Adrien’s father from Adrien’s school bag and then dispose of it in a trash can in the park.” Said Marinette, her tone flat, “I then followed her and saw her lies exposed by Ladybug.”

Lila’s lawyer paled slightly, before clearing his throat, “Hearsay, you have no proof that she lied about anything.”

“I didn’t need to,” Said Marinette, flatly, “The lies she started telling when she returned from hiding in her room, were poorly made and only required a quick google search to disprove.”

Lila’s Lawyer paled further, before looking at the judge.

“No further questions.” He muttered, before Marinette was dismissed from the box.

B

Kagami’s leg bounced, her host parent glanced over and her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Everything’s going to be okay.” Said Claire, gently rubbing Kagami’s shoulder.

Kagami nervously swallowed, while Maria took hold of Kagami’s hand.

“You just need to go up, tell them what happened and answer their questions.” Soothed Claire, while Maria looked at Lila and her lawyer.

The process of Kagami being called to the stand and sworn in came too quickly for the girl’s liking, Malcolm had gone over the basics with her the day before.

“Mlle. Tsurugi,” Said Malcolm, approaching the stand, “I only need you to answer yes or no to my questions. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Said Kagami, as Lila’s Lawyer smirked.

“On the 17th of September, you entered College François Dupont’s locker room to get changed for a fencing lesson, is that correct?”

“Yes.” Said Kagami, getting a nod from Malcolm.

“You said, in your statement to my colleague,” Said Malcolm, picking up a folder in his desk, “you saw Mlle. Rossi grab a sword from a bag and try to stab Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, is that correct?”

“Yes, it is.” Said Kagami, as Lila started to whisper in her Lawyer’s ear.

“After that, you described the following series of events that led up to the stabbing incident, as if you were not in control of your own body. Is that correct?” Asked Malcolm, putting the folder down.

“Yes.” Said Kagami.

“No further questions.” Said Malcolm, returning to his seat.

“Mlle. Tsurugi,” Said Lila’s Lawyer, looking at the Japanese girl, “Is it true you believe on acting first, despite not having the full picture?”

“Yes.” Said Kagami, looking at the lawyer.

“So, if you found that your boyfriend viewed a girl, who wasn’t you, and one that he clearly held feelings for,” Continued the Lawyer, “you wouldn’t wait for further clarification and you’d immediately go on the attack.”

“No.” Said Kagami, shaking her head.

“Just like how you didn’t wait before attacking Mlle. Rossi and, subsequently, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.” Accused the Lawyer, “You saw the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, didn’t you, Mlle. Tsurugi?”

“No.” Said Kagami, shaking her head harder.

“Or perhaps Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was simply collateral damage.” Said the Lawyer, before Malcolm stood up.

“Objection, Your Honour. M. Strand is forming baseless accusations.” Said Malcolm, leaning forwards, his hands resting on the desktop.

“Sustained,” Said the Judge, before turning her gaze on Strand, “Monsieur Strand, I do hope you have actual evidence to back up these allegations.”

Strand grinned, “My client’s account of the situation will confirm the allegations.”

The Judge glared at him, “The testimony of one sixteen-year-old girl, who has been denounce as a liar by three different witnesses and has herself claimed to have blacked out and only woke up to see Mlle. Dupain-Cheng already wounded.”

Strand’s grin slowly fell from his face, and looked over a Lila, who had paled significantly.

“Permission to call a recess.” Said Strand, sweat forming on his forehead.

“Granted, we’ll reconvene in thirty minutes.” Said the Judge, slamming her gavel onto the desk.

B

“Strand’s got nothing to stand on.” Said Malcolm, as Skye handed coffees around, “Compared to who we’ve got, the case is ours.”

“So, he’s stranded.” Said Adrien, looking up at the legal expert.

“Not how I would’ve put it, but yeah, he is.” Said Malcolm, Lila had accused Adrien of harassing her, both at school and at photoshoots. Those claims were quickly refuted by Adrien’s classmates, the photographer Vincent and scars that adorned Adrien’s arms in the shape of Lila’s fingernails.

Adrien had another court date, in regard to Gabriel’s neglect and emotion and verbal abuse towards Adrien. A bell rang, signalling the people to head back into the court room. Malcolm walked up to his desk, with Skye sliding in next to him, as Strand stood up, his eyes glued onto his desk.

“Against the advice of her counsel, Mlle. Rossi wishes to take the stand.” Trembled Strand panic clear in his eyes.

“Mlle. Rossi,” Said the Judge, leaning forwards, “If you take the stand, you will be open for cross examination.”

Lila gave the Judge a sickly, sweet smile, before she nodded, “I understand your honour.”

“Mlle. Rossi, could you please recount the event of Friday, September 17th?” Asked Strand, a smirk on his face.

“I was arguing with Marinette in the locker room, she was just about to leave when Kagami burst in and tried to kill me,” Said Lila, tears starting to form in her eyes, “Marinette got caught between us and was stabbed, there was so much blood.”

“You said you and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng were arguing.” Said Strand, as Lila faked a wince.

“Someone had vandalised one of her sketchbooks,” Said Lila, “she thought I’d done it because I was the last one to leave the room it was in.”

“I have no further questions, your honour.” Said Strand, smirking at Malcolm.

“Mlle. Rossi,” Started Malcolm, approaching the girl, “you said you and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng were ‘arguing’, at any point, did the disagreement turn physical?”

“No, we were only using words.” Responded Lila, unknowingly walking into a trap.

“Then, how, may I ask, did Mlle. Dupain-Cheng suffer; a broken arm, a broken hand, two broken ribs and three fractured ribs, a skull fracture and a shattered ankle? Your Honour, I’d like to introduce items 14-JT, 15-JT, 16-JT, 17-JT, 18-JT and 19-JT into evidence.”

“She, she must’ve gotten them when Kagami attacked.” Said Lila, a small amount of panic appearing in her voice.

“Mlle. Rossi,” Said Malcolm, “you just said Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was caught in the crossfire, when all of these could be considered defence wounds.”

“M-Marinette did put up a fight.” Said Lila, trying to cover her story.

“Mlle. Rossi, you are aware that there is video evidence that contradicts your version of events?” Asked Malcolm, before turning to the Judge, “Your Honour, if you will permit it, I’d like to add item 16-JS-B into evidence, it is footage from the security camera the school locker room, it has also recorded audio.”

“Sustained.” Said the Judge, as a TV was wheeled into the courtroom.

The TV screen flickered into life and started playing the recording.

Lila shoved Marinette against the locker, a bag fell from the top of the locker, before jamming a knee into her gut and throwing her on the floor. Marinette’s side hit a bench as she went down.

“You’re pathetic.” Sneered Lila, “You say you love Adrien, but you give him up for some other bitch.”

“That,” Gasped Marinette, slowly getting to her feet, “was Adrien’s choice.”

Lila sneered and kicked Marinette in the side, knocking her back to the floor, before stepping on Marinette’s right hand and pushing down on it until she heard a crack and a cry of pain from Marinette.

“You know you never had a chance with Adrien, don’t you?” Snarled Lila, punctuating each word with a kick, “he’d never be interested in a piece of filth like you.”

Marinette grabbed Lila’s foot mid swing and knocked the other one out from under the Italian. Lila let out a yelp as she fell, as Marinette slowly got to her feet.

“You know what?” Said Marinette, holding her side, trying to ignore the pain, “I can live with that. As long as Adrien is happy, I can be happy. Love isn’t something that requires both parties to feel the same way, because if you truly love someone, then seeing them happy is enough.”

Lila snarled and grabbed one of the swords from the bag and went to stab Marinette with it. Kagami charged forwards grabbing the sword from Lila’s hand and swing it at her.

Marinette stood frozen, watching as Kagami started to attack Lila, mentally arguing on if she should stop Kagami or remain out of the fight. The decision was made for her when Lila tripped and landed on her rear. In a flash of movement, Marinette had grabbed a sword from the bag and parried Kagami’s jab away from the liar.

“Kagami, listen to me,” Said Marinette, her breath shaky, “you need to calm down.”

Kagami roared and went to slash at Lila, Marinette making sure to keep the blade from connecting with Lila.

“Kagami, stop!” Cried Marinette, as she parried another jab aimed at Lila, the distinctive sound of metal hitting metal rang through the air, “Kagami, this isn’t how you are!”

“She needs to be punished!” Snarled Kagami, advancing towards Marinette.

“Kagami, please, listen to me!” Yelled Marinette, “This isn’t you! Please, you need to calm down!”

Kagami lunged forwards, with Marinette going to parry from Kagami’s previous position. The blade slid between Marinette’s ribs, the girl felt a pain in her chest, before she felt the sword poke out her back. The sword Marinette had been holding fell to the floor.

“Kagami…” Said Marinette, as she struggled to breath, coughing up some blood as she spoke. The sword was removed.

There was silence, before the sword clattered to the floor, joining its partner. Marinette felt her legs give way beneath her, while Lila smirked viciously, before letting out a scream. Kagami stood frozen, as she stared at the blood coating her hands.

“As you can see, Your Honour,” Said Malcolm, “Mlle. Rossi has been lying on the stand in regards to the entire situation and sequence of events.”

“I now understand your reasoning for add additional charges against Mlle. Rossi.” Said the Judge, looking down at Malcolm, “Attempted Murder in the second degree and truancy. I believe that the Jury has seen enough to make a verdict.”

B

The Jury deliberated for an hour, before returning to the court room.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” Asked the Judge, looking at the jury members.

“We have, sir.” Said the foreman, shuffling his feet.

“How does the jury find on the first count on the indictment, attempted murder in the second degree?” Asked the Judge, leaning back in his chair.

“Guilty, Your Honour.” Said the Foreman, looking down at the paper.

“How does the jury find on the second count on the indictment, truancy?”

“Guilty, Your Honour.”

“Mlle. Rossi, even without these charges, you would’ve been sentenced for your continued perjury in this court room,” Said the Judge, “you are hereby sentenced to 30 years in prison, you will start serving the sentence at a juvenile detention centre and, one you are of age, will be transferred to an appropriate prison to serve out the rest.”

The Judge banged his gavel on the desk, before dismissing the court.

B

Kagami looked around her new room, Maria and Claire had decided to adopt Kagami, after Tomoe had refused to allow Kagami back into the home to collect her belonging, instead having all of them burnt to a crisp.

Kagami took a deep breath, finally realising this was her first day of being a normal girl. There was a groan and a wheeze, as Marinette struggled to lift a box up.

“You’re going to tear your stitches!” Said Kagami, striding over and taking the box.

“The doctor said he might invest in getting me a cone.” Said Marinette, slumped against the door, “I can now write properly with my left hand.”

“Considering that your right one is fucked,” Said Kagami, carefully helping Marinette up, “I’m sure the compensation that Madam Rossi had to give you will help in finding someone who can get it back up to fighting strength.”

“I’ve actually got a physiotherapy session tomorrow.” Said Marinette, dropping herself onto Kagami’s bed, “Adrien’s helping with the animal’s downstairs.”

“Are you sure it’s not Felix?” Asked Kagami, dropping down next to Marinette.

“Nah, Felix hates cats,” Said Marinette, looking at the ceiling, “and I think he’s afraid of me.”

“I’m not surprised.” Responded Kagami, looking at Marinette.

Adrien joined the two girls half-an-hour later, dropping himself onto the bed and curling around them.

[letsperaltiago]

supercut, i’ll be your favorite scene

Here it is: THE KITCHEN COUNTER FIC™️

Hope you guys like this pile of filth and feel free to share your 😌thoughts😌 in the tags or in my indbox/ask! I’d really love to hear them!! For context: takes place during Season 6, Episode 6: The Crime Scene!

Also do I need to make a disclaimer saying that I know Jake would never intentionally neglect Amy yada yada...? You know the drill.

Enjoy!

READ ON AO3 HERE (RATING E)

It had been going on for weeks now and by then it was safe to say that Amy was getting fed up with the situation. Ever since this mysterious, seemingly unsolvable case had started consuming Jake’s every thought, move and decision, Amy had felt somewhat neglected. Her husband was of course still, as always, sweet and caring but lately the case had completely overtaken his life and Jake spent more hours twisting and turning every clue than he spent being paying attention to Amy – or anything that wasn’t case files or clues, for that matter. It’s not that Amy needed attention, like some child screaming for affection, but she was worried for her husband’s health and, even if it felt silly to say, their intimate life.

Sure, they’d kiss good morning, goodbye and hello but especially the past few weeks Jake had more often than not fallen asleep atop of the case files at the dining table rather than in bed with her. Naturally Amy felt many things: impressed by her husband’s dedication and hard work but also worried and frustrated… in more than one way.

One night, another one of those spent alone in bed with Jake sitting at the dimly lit dining table, Amy was done being cool and reasonable; fact was that she missed her husband and she was shamelessly horny. It didn’t take long for her to make a decision: tonight, four drink-Amy, minus the drinks, was going to make an appearance.

“Hey, babe,” she spoke softly with a sweet, curious air, keeping her ulterior motives hidden, as she wandered into the living/dining-room in her pajamas and pink nightrobe. Her steps brought her up behind him and when he finally came within her reach, she made sure to slide her hands onto his shoulders with extra grace and tenderness, softly squeezing them to hopefully give him a taste of the tender touch he surely had a craving for though he currently was too stressed to act on “What are you doing?”

A beat of silence.

“Just working the case,” he mumbled tiredly sounding unaffected by her presence.

It was going to take more work than what she’d originally intended to put into it, but Amy was more than willing to put in the extra work; she did love a good challenge.

“I see that,” she added bending over to wrap her arms around his torso and rest her head on his shoulder as to get a closer look at his work… amongst other things. He was only wearing his flannel and boxers, perfect, she couldn’t help but think.

“You’re working so hard, babe,” she stated sweetly making sure it went straight into his ear. “Don’t you want to relax a bit?”

Her hands stroked his chest smoothly sliding over to play with the top buttons of his flannel, the same flannel he’d worn yesterday, she couldn’t help but notice. Alas this wasn’t the right moment to mention this.

“I can’t,” he flipped over a page to scribble down whatever information crossed his mind. “Not right now.”

“But that’s what you’ve been saying every day for the past few weeks now. Working yourself too hard won’t do you any good, you know… It can affect your way of thinking.”

A peck to his neck was basically Amy begging for his attention, for some kind of reaction to both her words and actions, but it never came.

“I’m fine, Amy. I just need to get this done.”

Scribbling and flipping of pages continued even so, as if she was air, and Amy, more than ever, was now growing awfully frustrated about the situation. Never before, at least while they’d been together, had Jake been blunt and cold towards her like this. Of course, she knew it wasn’t personal, and that it was all tied to the case and the promise he’d made to the victim’s mother, but still she couldn’t help but feel rejected. Rather than letting it get her down, it did the exact opposite and fueled her inner flame.

This problem was only not solved because it was demanding new, more bold, methods.  

“But…” she swiftly as ever popped open a few buttons of his flannel “… don’t you think you would be able to think clearer…” she slid a hand down his now revealed chest before continuing to lure him in with sultry words and notes “…if you just let me help you feel good for a bit.”

Gosh, his skin felt so soft and so good, even after all these years, and oh how she just wanted to bite into it, scratch it red and raw with her fingers till both their hearts exploded.

“Amy, please. I love you but I need to keep working on this.”

Ouch. Her hand froze just above his belly button before removing itself. At least he said something kinda nice, she thought referring to the I love you, but this wasn’t enough. I love you wouldn’t have her writhing and screaming till climax.

First attempt was a lost cause but luckily, in a twisted way, Amy was furious and desperate. Vanishing back to their bedroom without another word, boiling with both lust and frustration, the woman proceeded to plan B; and plan she hadn’t really planned but quickly came up with.  Said plan was hiding in a paper bag in the back of her closet and she’d actually planned on revealing it to him on Valentine’s day but enough was enough: now would have to be the right time.

Said plan started ten minutes later when she waltzed down the hall and back into the dining/living room wearing the same night robe as before. Only this time she was wearing something else underneath: something fiery red and shamelessly lacey.

“If you’re going to stay up all night drilling this…” Smooth, Amy. She planted a few candles on the table before him before lighting them, making sure to bend over just enough for the dip in her robe to reveal what was hiding underneath, “…then lets at least make it nice and cozy for you.”

“Thanks, babe, but no need to. Just go back to bed and I’ll join you there later.”

He didn’t look up, not as much as a quick glance and Amy could feel her blood beginning to simmer in her veins from wanting her husband’s attention and touch so badly. He couldn’t be serious? He couldn’t not notice how she was basically begging for him, could he?

With a firm grip, in one smooth motion, she pulled out the chair besides him and sat down before slowly untying the knot of her robe as her eyes watched him, attentive, hoping see his reaction when he saw the surprise she was presenting him.

Slowly, oh so slowly, she peeled apart the robe and let it slide off of her like ice cream melting on a sunny day. The fabric fell to the floor without a sound and there she sat, half-naked and more inviting than ever before in her life.

Not that she’d tried to be discreet before, but she was now so very obvious about her intention that he couldn’t possibly let it slide. And if she wasn’t obvious enough then the way the red silky fabric enhanced her skin’s warm undertones while the black, soft lace complimented the curves of her breasts and thighs certainly were. All things she’d considered upon picking out the set. The gleam from the candles danced in the reflection of the silky fabric and Amy Santiago was more than impossible to overlook.

“Why don’t you join me in bed… now?” She bit her lip smiling while her fingers played with a lock of her dark hair.

“Babe, I’m really trying to work here. Please.”

He almost sounded annoyed with her as he scrolled through his phone, looking for whatever could be more interesting than her.

Anti-climatic was not the word; this was way worse, Amy was sure of it.

How could he do this to her? There she sat, exposing herself, metaphorically and literally, and all he could think of was work! Maybe she should try to be reasonable, consider how he felt in his situation with this specific case, but enough was enough! She pushed herself out of the chair and stomped off to the kitchen. At first she didn’t know exactly why she headed to the kitchen… Perhaps she just wanted to get away from him but then again, she could’ve just gone to the bedroom. The doubt faded the minute she saw some unpacked groceries, more specific carrots, on the counter. Standing there in the kitchen in her very lingerie at 1 AM feeling like a sad, rejected porn star, she found her Plan C and felt that there was no other way. Amy Santiago did what she had to do: grabbed a bunch of carrots, picked out the tiniest, crummiest knife she could find, a cutting board and started chopping.

Noisily. Over and over again. Repetitive and loud.

“Ames, what are you doing?”

A reaction – good. She looked up, just barely, through her eyelashes only to be met by the sight of her husband still not caring enough to look at her properly.

“Felt like getting a snack, that’s all…”

She kept chopping, faster, harder and most importantly: louder. Carrot after carrot, way too many, but she figured they’d just eat it some other time. For now it was all about pestering him, getting on his nerves as he on hers. Ten seconds went by… Twenty… Thirty…

Chop. Chop. Chop.

“Amy-“

Another loud cut interrupted him. Amy didn’t even bother to cut into proper shapes or sizes. It was all about the sound.

Forty… Fifty…

“Amy, could you please stop!”

Finally.

She smiled to herself at the sound of his snarl, hearing the specific shade of Jake Peralta she’d waited for all night long. Her eyes were still glued to the carrots on the cutting board before her and, she knew, if she looked up, she’d see her husband stare right at her. God, she loved their open kitchen-dining room.

“Why don’t you come over here and make me?” She challenged hoping to make it the tipping point.

Then she looked up and as predicted, her husband was staring at her with a newly arrived squint and dark look in his eyes. It seemed as if his frustration had finally opened his eyes to what was really going on: his wife was in their kitchen almost completely naked, wearing only the skimpiest lingerie, and he’d been stupid enough to look past it. Their eyes met: his angry and storm full, hers playful and hungry, begging.

Right then and there a pin could’ve dropped to the ground and it would’ve made the ground shake and sound like an explosion. The tension was thicker than quicksand and it was only a matter of seconds, an unbearable staring contest, before the sound of Jake pushing back his chair cut through it like a knife.

He slowly walked, as if he was planning his every step, around the counter dividing the dining area and kitchen area, and Amy could feel herself beam with excitement at the muffled sound of his steps.

“What did you just say?” Jake’s voice was low, a few tones deeper than usual, something he only did when he was angry or during sexy timez.  “Think twice before answering me.”

His hands slowly slid onto her almost naked hips feeling the arousing sensation of the lace beneath his fingers. She was trapped between him and the counter before her, on purpose, she could tell and God, she loved him like this. After years of being together it was no secret to either of them that Amy, as much as she enjoyed being dominant and in charge, loved playing the play of the submissive one, the one getting told what to do. Something, if put in the right mindset, her husband handled very well. Key word: handled. Tonight, she needed to be handled. By him… With care? No, they were way beyond stage. Amy was buzzing with impatience. This needed to be properly balanced with the nature of the moment; a tempered Jake who would not put up with being told what to do. Not tonight.

“I didn’t say-“ her breath hitched interrupting herself when she felt him lean his body against her from behind, leaving no room behind him and her, and her and the counter, before letting his right hand slide along the top hem of her panties. “I didn’t say anything. I was just c-cutting-“

His index finger tugged on the elastic hem.

“Cutting carrots,” she breathed out nervousl and he picked up on it.  

“Is this cool? Safe word?” he quickly added.

“It’s perfect and ‘Manhattan’ as usual.”

“Okay good,” he pecked the shell of her ear as a sign of approval before picking up where they left off.

“Hmm,” he hummed removing his finger knowing it’d disappoint her. “I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

“Oh,” she whimpered in reaction to his words being breathed against her sensitive neck. While being distracted by his breathy taunts Amy had completely failed to notice the hand sliding down the right leg of her panty. Here, when down low enough, his index finger had crooked itself around the center section of the garment to pull it to the side and reveal her forlorn womanhood.

Tonight wasn’t going to be a long night of slow fucking, they both knew, but Amy was still surprised when she almost right away felt two fingers part her folds, automatically coaxing her into submission.

“I have barely touched you…” he spoke with a voice so soft and in no way is a match to the sinful activity happening further down her body, “…and you’re already this wet.”

No words, only sounds of strain and pleasure, were to come from Amy. Jake was in charge now and he would make the calls tonight. All she could do was wait and obey.

“You’ve been such an annoying little pest all night and I thought it was just because you were bored, when in reality- “

“Jake,” escaped her in the form of a breathy declaration, in a moment of weakness in reaction to his finger’s Godsent work, interrupting him and this usually wasn’t well received, not in a scene like the one they found themselves caught up in, but Jake was too pleased with the display of his effectiveness to reprimand her. Instead, he just smiled to himself and made sure to stroke the exact same spot over and over again feeling her get weak in her knees.

“When in reality you just, so desperately, need to be fucked.”

To prove his point, he leaned a bit more of his weight onto her forcing her midriff up against the counter. His fingers still had room to work thus moving with more and more ferocity.

“Am I right, Amy?”

Eyes closed, mouth agape and head bent back to rest against his shoulder, it was safe to say that Amy was in another world. Yes, she heard the loud rumbling that was the sound of his voice, but his fingers were louder than anything else happening at that moment. If it wasn’t for the fact that he had her trapped she would’ve been grinding for more, used her body to get a better feel of his touch. Alas she’d have to earn it some other way.

“Amy,” he scolded bringing her attention back to his demands. “Tell me. Am I right?”

His hand not stroking her heat slowly started playing with the upper edges of her panties, pushing them down her curves in the process.

“Y-yes,” came out in a voice so breathy that the word was barely audible, and Jake could only just hear it because he stood as close to her as he did.

“Thought so,” he bluntly approved her answer and removed his fingers from her heat to allow himself to push the panties down entirely, letting them to fall off of her and onto the cold kitchen floor. Amy could feel the bulge in his boxers pressed against her now bare ass and it killed her to not be able to grind against it, to feel it properly.

“So…” he used his now wet fingers, glistening with her juices, making sure to trail them across her skin, to slowly push her hair to the side and leave him room to kiss the back of her neck. “Now that you’ve so selfishly interrupted me and the important work I was doing, just because you just can’t behave and wait to get fucked…”

Amy’s voice hitched, loudly even, in reaction to his words. Dirty talk had definitely moved up a few spots on her favorites list when her and Jake got together; he was so good at it and it made her want to play along.  

“… there are two ways things can go now: either you pull yourself together like a good girl, let me get back to work and wait in bed…”

Amy did not like the sound of that. Nonetheless she bit her tongue and instead of fighting him she focused on the soft feeling of her husband’s breath dancing against her sensitive skin as his hands stroked her stomach, slowly inching themselves upwards towards her breasts.

“… or I give you what you need. Right here, right now.”

There was a moment of silence where Amy considered whether she should actually answer or let him make a choice for her. Did he want her to speak up or was it a trap?

“Tell me, Amy,” he scowled at the exact same moment as his hands reached her chest and latched themselves onto her still lace-clad breasts. “Tell me what you need. I’m not gonna ask again.”

“N-now, p-please” her stutters were weak, but they were there and she could only hope it was enough. They held so much desperation and honesty.

Meanwhile Jake feverously caressed her breasts, pinching her nipples through the thin, lacy material. Then, quickly running out of patience, he basically ripped the straps and cups down as to finally gain full access to this part of her he loved so much.

“Okay,” he pecked the back of her neck. “Can’t believe you’re so desperate that I get to fuck you right here on the counter.”

Jake definitely sounded smug, pleased with the situation, and Amy would’ve been be lying if she’d said she didn’t feel the same way… even though she couldn’t say it. They’d had sexcapades in the kitchen before but never like this and Amy was filled to the brim with excitement.

“God, I wanna see you on your knees with your lips stretched around me so bad but you’re just so ready for me, Ames… It’s too good to put off for much longer. Can you feel how ready I am for you?”

In case she hadn’t already noticed his hard on pressed against her bare ass Jake grinded into her and Amy very quicky came to hate his boxers even more, wishing she could just rip them off of him, and definitely let out a whimper at the needed touch. The full control he had over her was both everything she wanted and everything she dreaded; all she could do was hope that he’d fulfill her wishes for her.

Finally, as if a shooting had crossed the sky and heard her wishes, she felt one of his hands move away from her breast and relocate to push down the cursed material that kept her from being able to feel him properly. An outline trapped behind fabric was always promising but nothing could ever beat the feeling of Jake’s freed length.

“So ready…” he mumbled under his breath as he, impressively so, used one hand to fiddle open the clasp of her bra while the other was busy stroking his length. Given their current position there were things he had to take care of himself – many things, apparently. With both of his hands being busy paying attention to something that wasn’t her, Amy honestly wasn’t too pleased with the situation even though she knew it would pay off; she could already imagine, almost feel, the cool surface of their marbled countertop pressed against her torso causing goosebumps to rise across her entire body.

Thud. Finally, the strain around her chest disappeared as her bra joined the rest of their (limited) garments on the kitchen floor, soon to be forgotten by both Jake and Amy. Jake did still have his flannel on, barely hanging on by one closed button, but the parts of them that mattered were free and ready for tonight’s purpose.

She felt him take a tiny step back, away from her, and she was just about to let out a whine when suddenly her entire body quaked in response to his right hand giving her ass a firm squeeze before allowing it to run all the way up her spine, slowly and with great intentions in mind.

“Bend over.”

If only Amy could tell herself from ten years ago that she would end up marrying a man whose words could make her body and world tremble… The perfect two words, said so bluntly, demanding, had her convinced the second they fell from his lips.

She obeyed, with his hand on her back guiding her forwards, and soon she found herself looking out at their living/dining room from her new position: bent over their kitchen counter.

Jake’s hand continued its journey up her back, all the way up to her shoulder where he gave it a tiny affectionate squeeze before leaning down and pecking the back of her neck.

“Okay, babe?”

“Y-yes, perfect,” she whimpered, impatient, struggling to retain her recklessness.

“You look so good.”

The unequivocal sound of his palm patting her full ass cheek echoed in the kitchen. Even when trying to convey the need to ask for more into grabbing onto the counter, to a point where her knuckles turned white, holding back a whimper was out of her hands.

“Soon, babe. I just can’t get over how fucking good you look bent over like this...”

Another pat, a strike more appropriately so, to her other ass cheek let Amy know that he was definitely testing her patience and willingness to stay silent. He loved the frustration he knew she was battling with inside; mainly because he knew she’d never break because Amy Santiago’s desire to please and obey was stronger than the feeling of despair and need.

“… Bent over and desperate for me to touch you.”

Jake’s low, rumbling voice, the way an almost animalistic side of him shone through his words, was enough to keep Amy going. Although she did quickly take a preference upon feeling a sudden overwhelming burst of warmth and stimulus shoot through her when his fingers switched their attention from her ass to her folds, slowly running two fingers back and forth through them as to assemble as much moisture as possible.

Pleased with himself at the sound of a high-pitched and dragged out Oh there was no stopping him. Slowly torturing them both, mostly her, he kept working her open with his fingers as small moans and squeals dropped from her lips. His other hand kept a firm hold of her hip. Amy was off in another world, trembling at the feeling of his fingers finally doing to her what she’d been craving for for so long now. Her hands slowly turned sore from holding on so tightly to the counter under her, but she didn’t care. Everything felt so good and she’d die if it were to stop if she disobeyed or accidentally disregarded Jake’s wishes and plans.

All of the sudden, ready to whine at the loss of his fingers but quickly interrupted, Amy felt a strong hold of her hips from both of his hands and then, even better, herself being stretched around her husband’s cock. To hell with the consequences, Amy let out the loudest “quiet” moan she dared. The sensation washing over her was too much, too good, to keep quiet about however it helped that she expressed herself cheek pressed down into the cool kitchen counter.

“Yes,” Jake hissed pushing himself all the way in. “Fuck, you’re the best thing, babe.”

She felt a hand, once again, run up the length of her back as he shuffled on the spot to adjust himself inside of her. The stretch ceased for a brief second but immediately came back, this time for good, repeating itself in a steady pattern that had the entire front of Amy’s body, from her knees hitting the lower kitchen cupboards to the face rubbing up against the cool marble, following the given rhythm. The sound of their bodies slapping together, Amy’s skin drumming against their counter to the beat of his repetitive thrusting as well, came together like an obscene symphony. Only one thing was missing, and he knew why: she was waiting for permission like the good girl she was.

Bending over her so far that his chest ran parallel with her back, almost skin against skin, Jake made a makeshift ponytail with his wife’s soft, dark hair and, keeping in mind to stay careful, forced Amy’s head off the counter and back. Amy hissed, the pain and pleasure coming together, and she was finally in the perfect position for him to whisper into her ear.

“I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.”

The observation, rather the implicit demand, went straight to her already extensive drive and with her head held up by his hand in her hair, Amy allowed her sounds of pleasure to fall freely from her lips and accompany the repetitive sound their body’s coming together, over and over, skin to skin, skin to wood, skin to stone.

“Oh- oh- ohmygod yes,” came tumbling out of her like the world was collapsing inside of her and having straightened back up, still with a hold of Amy’s hair, Jake could only admire the scene before him as he felt the stressful case and immense pressure melting away. After this he would definitely have to apologize for being so absent lately but for now, they probably needed this more than anything else.

“Y-yes, baby. Feel so good around me.”

Every word, every sound, every move was punctuated by a thrust, one after the othert, speed and force slowly increasing as a momentum built and both parties fell into and drowned in an endless pool of longing and passion.

“Was this what you wanted when you decided you were going to act like a fucking brat?”

A tug on the makeshift ponytail demanded that Amy listen even though she knew he might not necessarily want an answer from her - at least not a vocal one.

“Was is worth it? Tell me.”

Another tug on her hair, definitely demanding an answer, and his fingers digging into her fleshy hips earned him a small cry of submission that almost had him coming right there on the spot. Alas he stayed focused and steady. He wasn’t ready to let go yet, and neither was she. Just the way he wanted it and the way she loved it.

“Y-yes,” she just barely managed to stutter between thrusts, too far gone to make out a longer sentence, even though she was dying to tell him just how good he made her feel and how she’d missed him inside of her.

“Can’t believe all it takes to shut you up is a good fuck,” he accused her, but she could tell he was not so secretly loving it, simply saying it, making it sound filthy, because he had needed it just as badly as her. “So desperate you’ll take it anywhere…”

He trailed off, out of breath from snapping his hips back and forth into her with hefty momentum that had both his and her legs shaking. Although, he knew, he wasn’t quite done with her yet. There might’ve been beads of sweat running down her arched back, red marks on her arms from the rubbing of the counter and beginning knots where he held onto her hair, but it couldn’t be over yet.

Using the last surge of energy, he had left in him, Jake decided to let go of his wife’s hair and used the now freed hand to give her ass one last spank, one whose loud snap and following whine bounced off the kitchen walls. Besides that, nothing was said and Jake was pleased.

“No complaining, huh? You just know that you always look so much better when I mark you up.”

It was hard to tell since her entire body jerked every time he reentered her however Jake was sure: she nodded. He stroked the fresh redness of her ass before hunching over her still very much bent over figure. The new curve of his body to ran along hers, his chest to his back, and gave him the opportunity to take a hold of her hands where they were still clinging onto the kitchen counter’s edge for dear life. Now he could help his thrusts by pulling into her.

“I’m so close, Ames. So fucking close.”

He readjusted as to be able to whisper directly into her ear.

“You look so good bent over like this… All for me…”

“O-only for you,” she managed to stutter.

“But I want to be able to see your face when you cum.. So hard like never before,” he marked his point by gathering some extra force to thrust just a bit deeper and the small scream it derived was worth it. Although he had already (kind of) warned her Amy felt like dying the second he so brutally pulled out of her completely. It was all soon forgotten though; the second he pulled her back up straight, spun her around and lifted her, almost entirely by himself, up to sit on the counter. Before Amy could fully comprehend what was happening, he had her face cupped in his hand and their eyes locked.

Amy could’ve sworn what he did and said next was the sexiest thing he’d ever done to her: without letting go of her face, neither her eyes, he used his free hand to push her thighs apart and around him.

“Now don’t you dare look away.”

Without further explanation he grabbed his cock and guided it back into her, once more appeasing her with the feeling of being filled to the brim by him. It was far from as easy or smooth as their previous position, but they fell back into a enjoyable pattern of movements. Before they knew it Amy was back to whimpering at every thrust, her magic spot struck over and over again. She was shrieking her pleas as he kept their eyes locked and there was no escaping it. The hand holding her face snuck a thumb across her dry lips, furthermore, causing them to part and welcome his finger past the edge and into the mouth he was dying to kiss.  

“Do you have any idea how fucking hot you look like this?” he praised enjoying the wet sensation around his thumb and the muffled effect on her whimpers it had before removing his hand, to her disappointment, only to then please when he put it to better use down between her legs. “And you’re going to look even hotter when you fall apart around me, understood?”

“Y-yes,” she croaked with eyes slowly beginning to flutter closed. “I- I’m so close, baby.”

“Me too,” he breathed heavily as he saw her eyes shut as his fingers played with her clit, wishing and yearning to take her where they both wanted to be. “Now look at me,” he demanded using his free hand to once again grab her jaw and reposition her face as to be sure she was looking directly into his eyes as he felt himself come closer to his climax.

He picked up the pace, the slaps of their skin becoming louder, and Amy immediately reacted by grinding harder onto both his cock and fingers meanwhile her mouth let every deep, sinful emotion pour out of her as a messy ode to her own climax.

“R-right there, ugh- yes! Faster, harder-“

“I’m gonna cum, babe. Right now,” he exclaimed.

“Y- yes, inside of me. Keep going,” she begged afraid that his climax would interrupt God’s work he was doing on her.

“Ye-“ he was cut off by his own climax which caused his head to shoot back and a groan from the deep of his gut. Although Amy had nothing to fear: even through his climax Jake kept up his pace, mostly with his fingers, and not too long after he had Amy writhing and gasping for on the counter.

“Come for me, babe. All over me.”

He was slowly coming down from his own climax and passionately coaxed his unravelling wife through their shared euphoria, listening and staring into her eyes as she crumbled around him.

After a few moments of aftershock in the shape of shuttering, gasping and whimpering, the room fell silent and time seemed to stand still. By then Amy had slumped forward, completely drained, leaning her head onto his shoulder meanwhile the cool night temperature of the room started to get to her. Small goosebumps danced all over her body.

For a bit they just let it be, let the moment stand on its own, giving Jake the time to run his hands all over his wife’s shaky, beautiful body that he loved oh so much.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so absent lately. I hope you know that it has nothing to do with you.”

Although it was a statement and a fact rather than a question, Jake definitely wanted and needed to know if she knew that it was so.

“I know.”

He could feel and hear her smile because that’s how stupid well he knew her.

“Good. Still want to say I’m sorry though,” he smiled into the top of her head before pecking it and getting a small taste of the sweat they’d both built up. “…And I promise that I won’t let work control me like this again.”

Silence. A beat.

“I really appreciate you saying that. Thank you…”

She turned her head so that she could kiss his lips and, just an hour ago, Amy might’ve thought he was the most annoying, stubborn human on earth and maybe he was… But now she was also once again sure of the fact that no one could or ever would love her like her husband does.

[yinyanchan]

Housemates x Zoot Suit Riot Crossover: Lucky and Strike part 1

Wanted to post this for my birthday. You guys get to see it here first before the parts are combined and put on AO3. I will update when that happens as I’d like to do POV’s I’ve written for housemates and Zoot Suit Riot as well. The rating on it will be M as we do have a lot a pervs to cover and well Lucky being Lucky.

Summary: In which Blue and Orange from Housemates end up getting sucked through the still active machine in the basement of the house and swaps them with Lucky (Underswap Mafia Sans) and Strike (Underswap Mafia Papyrus) from my fic. Zoot Suit Riot. If you haven’t read Zoot Suit Riot… you are in for a treat with Lucky. Rating is what is and you will find out soon enough.

Check it out under the cut!

Blue was cleaning up near the dryer as Orange was helping him fold clothes in the basement. Both of them zoned out at what they were doing… until…

“You hear that bro?” Orange looks around. He faintly hears a soft whirring sound but both the dryer and washing machine were off.

Blue pauses and looks around.

“I HEAR IT BUT WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE IT IS? I MEAN I FEEL LIKE I’VE HEARD IT BEFORE BUT I CAN’T HONESTLY PLACE IT.” He hums as he continues to investigate with his brother.

“Oh crap. It’s getting louder behind the locked door.” Oranges’ sockets widen as do Blues.

“YOU DON’T THINK THE MACHINE STARTED UP ON IT’S OWN DO YOU!?” Blue looks highly concerned over at his brother.

“It doesn’t seem possible. Go get Sans… I’ll take it from here.” Orange says undoing the lock on the door only to have his hand gripped by his brother.

“I DON’T WANT YOU GOING IN ALONE. MAYBE THIS IS SOMETHING LIKE AN UPDATE BUT I DON’T WANT YOU TO GO IN AND IT POSSIBLY TAKES YOU FROM ME.” Blue is serious and Orange relents… he knows if he doesn’t comply he won’t even get the chance to investigate. Blue will ground his sorry behind that’s for sure.

“Ok bro. On the count of 3 we go in together.” Blue nods, getting that serious big brother mode game face on.

“1...2...3” They open the door and are instantly bathed in light and are instantly sucked into the room. Then moments later two skeletons who look eerily similar are thrown into the room.

They both groan slowly getting up from their awkward positions on the floor. They both look at each other only to do a double take.

“Brother, I know you are lazy but honestly?” The Blue look alike scowls at the orange hoodie clad skeleton next to him. The skeleton in question looks himself over and then scoffs.

“At least you can tell what I’m wearin’ unlike you bro… what even is that?” His brow raised in question.

The Blue imposter looked down at the battle body that Blue so lovingly wore in absolute disgust.

“THE FUCKING HELL IS THIS!? WHERE IS MY GODDAMN SUIT!?” He raves then touches head for his hat… and instantly blue tears are welling up in his sockets.

“Strike… my hat is gone… my classy yet uniquely me bowler hat has gone missing… I CAN’T BE CLASSY, yet highly adorable, AND GET PUSSY IN THIS!!!” The blue skeleton has tears cascading down as he looks around for something far more wearable… he only can find more of what his brother Strike is wearing and aprons.

“Lucky, Look, it's a bit more serious than our clothes right now. Forget our soulmate was in the world we left behind?” Strike asks his brother who looks ready to combust.

“THAT IS THE PUSSY I WAS TALKING ABOUT!!! IF WE ARE HERE THEN WHERE IS SHE!? SHE BETTER NOT BE STUCK WITH THOSE ASSHOLES WITHOUT US BIDDING FOR HER AFFECTION!” Lucky looked positively pissed.

“Well she’s not here obviously.” Strike meanders to the machine listening to its soft dronning hum.

“FIX THIS NOW!!!” Lucky demands but Strike laughs.

“Unfortunately this is out of my league. My machine doesn’t even have one of these usb ports. I had to print orders on a card file for the machine to read it… one mistakenly placed card would throw everything out of order.” Strike sighs.

“Hmmm perhaps this may be a similar situation we were in… multiple versions of ourselves convening in one alternate universe. I say we go out there and pretend to be whoever these skeletons are and single out the one who is responsible for this mishap.” Lucky says lifting up the battle body attire with a repulsed look.

“Great plan bro but how are you sure that they will think we’re them.” Strike questions.

Lucky pulls out the photo in the chest plate of Blue and Orange posing for the picture.

“I think we can handle it.” Lucky smirks, his blue eyes sharpened to blue icy stars.

Strike chuckles as the pose gives everything away. They were just plain ordinary versions of themselves in a different universe… How hard could it be?

They go up the stairs and find themselves face to face with someone so strikingly familiar their soul about leapt out of their chest.

“Y/N?” Lucky asks almost in a whisper but loud enough for you to turn around and smile. Lucky is in a daze and he feels the familiar pull of his soul's longing.... Could it be that there was another soulmate version of you in this world.

“What’s up Blue? Done with the laundry already? From the way you were lecturing Orange about his growing pile of filth… I thought you’d be down there a lot longer.” You chuckle as you come up to pat his shoulder.

The silence was obviously starting to worry you.

“You ok…..” You start but are instantly cut off by Strike chuckling.

“It’s okay honeybun, he’s a little speechless after he found a snack in the pockets of one of these (Slightly lifts the hoodie for emphasis) and it’s well traumatized him a bit. He’ll be back to good ol’ Blue in a moment.” Strike knew he slipped up by the way you look at him puzzled when he called you honeybun but fortunately his deductions about himself in this world were correct. You snort making both Lucky and Strike ease up from the tense situation they were in.

You give Lucky a hug which he’s shocked but instantly hugs you back.

“I’m so sorry Blue. At least it’s not like when Red went on a full cursing rampage… You and Berry both were mortified for days.” From Lucky’s position he was able to make eye contact with his brother.

It was an unspoken acknowledgement of the information they had just gathered. So there was a Red and a Berry… then you leaned back to look at Lucky once more.

“I’m sure you’ll be my cheery, bubbly Blueberry in no time.” Lucky almost cringed and Strike couldn’t hold back his laughter. Leaving you confused and Lucky glaring daggers at him while your focus was off.

Lucky only used that persona as a ruse… He hated being cute but he would do it in a heartbeat if it meant he could get something he could use. Everyone usually thought Strike was in charge and were left confused when Lucky showed up and made sure everyone knew their place. Strike knows that persona works like magic… no matter how much Lucky hates it.

“MWEH HEH! YOU HAVE ME THERE Y/N” Lucky throws himself into the act. You give him a concerned look again but shake it off with a grin. Lucky saw it and knew that Blue must’ve given you a term of endearment that he must call you by constantly… He wished he knew what it was…

Luckily he and Strike were always a team and Strike has his back.

“Sorry honeybun but it looks like he’s still a little out of it.” Strike snickers and Lucky puts on a playful pout that instantly has you looking relieved.

“Well this homework isn’t going to do itself… If only…” You sigh and grab a backpack off the floor and start heading upstairs after waving to them.

“Strike, She’s not used to you calling her honeybun. She seemed okay with honey before the bun. Just call her honey but there must be something this Blue was calling her… I can’t think of anything at the moment of what it could be…” Lucky has his game face on again as they both stand around thinking about their gameplan.

Well… if they couldn’t get back to where they were… There was a soulmate for them here and they both smirked at one another.

“There ya are pipsqueak.” Both Luck and Strike turn to see someone who was definitely a shorter version of Sweets… Had the most atrocious shorts with a parka… but red and black per the normal color pattern. Also the gold fang that stuck out like a sore thumb… So that could mean that their version of Swisher was here too if his brother was.

Lucky actually looked behind him in confusion and worry like there was someone else that he hadn’t seen. Strike noticed the skeleton rolls his eyelights.

“You, You dumbass.” As Lucky turns to glare and Strike straightens himself a little… ready for a fight.

Then all of a sudden the other skeleton starts laughing.

“What? am I in trouble? I shouldn’t be cursing is that it? I hope I don’t invoke big brother mode.” The skeleton continues to guffaw only when he notices that the two skeletons aren’t really reacting the way he was wanting… in fact they seemed deathly serious.

“Hey come on… didn’t mean it. Ya not seriously gonna go inta big brother mode because of that?” The skeleton that resembled Sweets starts to look them over concerned.

“What the actual fuck are you going on about?” Lucky is seething. Strike coughs to let his brother know he’s slipped character because of his anger once again.

Too late the damage has been done. 

The skeleton starts to eyeball them both a little more and starts to sweat.

“Who the…” He pauses in his question then in a blink disappears while yelling “Sans!”

“Well isn’t this a total shit fuck of a mess I put us in?” Lucky groans.

“Told ya ta watch yer anger bro… now all I can say is we gotta sell who we’re impersonating.” Strike sighs as both walk around and try to get familiar with things as quickly as possible.

Both of them find themselves wandering into the living room to be cornered by someone who looked like Black from their world. Only they almost had their jaws drop at his outfit. Bandanna with ragged looking black and red clothes that showed off his spine like a midriff. 

“YOU TWO KNOW WHY RED IS SHOUTING LIKE THAT? IT’S NOT LIKE HIM TO BE THAT OBNOXIOUSLY LOUD.” The new skeleton loudly hisses out.

Strike had to nudge Lucky as he saw his brother's eye sockets narrow in what was sure to be a retort. Shocking his brother to let out a “MWEH” as he suddenly remembers.

Strike was good on hunches and was definitely a walking talking lie detector… even though that doesn’t stop Lucky from lying all the time.

“Come on, Berry, don't be like that. Poor bro is traumatized enough as it is going through my laundry.” His hunch was right as he watched ‘Berry�� shudder in absolute disgust.

“INDEED. I’VE SEEN THE WAY YOU AND RUSS LAZE ABOUT… THAT ROOM OF YOURS MUST BE EQUALLY ATROCIOUS TO HIS.” Berry shakes his head.

“Where is everyone?” Strike grins as he knows this will get them names at least.

“FORGET ALREADY? SANS IS AT THE UNIVERSITY ALONG WITH PAPYRUS AND RUSS. YOU KNOW? DOING THEIR JOBS. EDGE IS AT HIS JOB AS WELL. AXE AND NOOK ARE IN THE GARDEN AND RED OF COURSE IS BEING AN IDIOT. DEAREST IS ATTENDING HER HOMEWORK.” Both skeletons flinch at the smile on Berry’s face when he mentions well… you… who else would it be that a skeleton like this would be so fond of?

Yet Strike and Lucky are grateful to the access of information that was just handed to them on a silver platter.

Lucky has been in thought while listening to the drivel of his newest rival. What would he call someone absolutely dear to him? Obviously it would be something similar to this Blue… would it be Starshine? He likes stars and the way they shimmer and shine… but even Strike seemed to be a little off with honeybun.

“YES! DOING HER BEST! S-ORANGE? AFTER ALL OF THAT YOU’RE SURE YOU DON’T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE THAT NEEDS TO GO IN THE WASH?” Lucky almost slipped but pulled through.

“I’m sure bro.” Strike says with a grin knowing where this would go.

“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU. LET US TAKE ANOTHER LOOK SHALL WE?” Lucky and Strike begin to make their way upstairs leaving Berry… without realizing that Berry is looking at the stairs they chose weren’t the stairs they often took to go to their rooms.

Shrugging it off. Blue might’ve wanted to pop in to see how you were doing.

As Lucky and Strike crest the landing both look at each other seriously. You were in one of these rooms so they couldn’t go barging in but all skeletons were accounted for either not being here, inside, or upstairs… save for Red.

He was another problem. If he knew where Sans was he probably took a shortcut there but possibly could be in one of the rooms himself.

Strike shrugged and Lucky sighed walking over to the first door and knocked.

“Yes?” You called out and Lucky swooned.

“JUST CHECKING IF YOU NEEDED ANY HELP!” He calls out and you laugh.

“I might need some help with math later okay?” You tell him through the door.

“THEN I SHALL BE BACK TO HELP YOU.” Lucky preens but Strike pulls him away before he can say anything else.

“Bro, you forget that math is a subject you don’t excel at unless it’s you figuring out how to do something successfully in your own head?” Strike urges his brother to stop while they are ahead. Lucky was only good at numbers from his perspective and not from a textbook.

“Of course and by successful, it is! And Doing…?” His grin is lecherous as he looks back at your door.

“I will be.” He licks his teeth and Strike sighs. 

“Bro, I feel the pull too but we need our head in the game, so we can win it before they find out we aren’t who they thought we are.” Strike pulls him to the next door and knocks.

No answer. Looking around they slowly open it to not make a sound. They see a room in squalor and Lucky nearly gags. Lucky might be a little lazy in the mornings but he likes things nice and tidy.

This must be Red's room from the shorts they see lying about and the red and black color scheme… the only thing that really just has them floored are the pin ups… Naked pin ups…

Lucky looks around and sees a magazine. As he picks up the magazine the centerfold unfolds to a nude woman in a very sensual position.

“L-Lucky put that down!” Strike is flushed with embarrassment as his brother looks awestruck.

“I feel jipped. Where was this stuff in our timeline!? The only things naughty I had were stuffy pin ups with people in their unmentionables but only some skin was shown… This. Shows. Everything.” Lucky wipes a little drool away instantly pinning your face onto what he’s seeing.

“Guys!? Are you in Red’s room!?” They both freeze and Lucky instantly chucks the evidence away from him by instinct.

Only for them to sigh in relief that you were calling out from the otherside of the wall. Yet strike sees Lucky quickly stuff something in his pocket.

“YES WE WERE DROPPING OFF A TURTLENECK SWEATER WE FOUND IN THE DRYER!” Lucky quickly lies at the drop of a hat. Something that was both a blessing and a curse for poor Strike.

“Ok, but you know he doesn’t like anyone being in there when he’s not!” You call out again. You were still pretty muffled due to the wall… which had them looking at one another in curiosity if you had heard anything they said.

Seeing as you didn’t seem weirded out or come over in a huff they speculated that it wasn’t something to be upset about. So they quickly left and shut the door loud enough behind them for you to know they had left.

They went over and gently knocked on the next door so that you couldn’t hear but any occupant would. No answer so they silently slipped in. It was a very nice simple room. Had some books arranged neatly on a few shelves and at least they could see the computer on the desk without piles of dirty dishes and… well they didn’t want to think about what all those kleenex wipes were doing there.

There was a picture on the desk and this one showed Red and a Tall skeleton resembling Swisher from where they were whisked away from. Strike narrowed down the names listed and since it seemed to go in pairs the way it was given. Russ was obviously Berry’s brother. Sans and Papyrus of course the originals… That left Axe, Nook, and Edge. Since Axe and Nook were working together they might be brothers so that left Edge.

“Edge right?” Lucky smirks as he also narrowed it down. Well this wasn’t either of their rooms so they went down another door. Gently knock only to be spooked by a loud voice.

“OH! IS SOMEONE THERE? I WILL JUST BE A MINUTE.” They listen closely, leaning towards the door. They heard water stop running and then the door was thrown open startling them to both jump back. Panic stricken as they see a lumbering disfigured Papyrus lean down quizzically eyeing them.

“Figures there’d be one of him too.” Lucky gripes under his breath and gets elbowed by Strike.

“I AM TERRIBLY SORRY FRIENDS… WERE YOU NOT WANTING TO USE THE RESTROOM? OR WERE YOU LOOKING FOR SOMEONE?” They were at a pause… this was either Axe or Nook and since they had nothing to go by, playing it off was going to be a difficult feat.

“SCAVENGER HUNT.” Lucky blurted out and Strike looked at him like he’s lost his mind.

“WE DIDN’T WANT TO INTRUDE ON ANYONE MWEH HEH HEH.” Lucky gets that big sweet adorable grin as he rubs the back of his skull.

“OOOH A SCAVENGER HUNT!? WHO ARE WE SCAVENGING!?” The tall lanky skeleton of nightmares looks positively joyous and ready to join.

“Ummm who?” Strike looks between the skeletons nervously.

“MEHH NO! NOT WHO BUT A WHAT!” Even Lucky seems at a loss as his shoulders droop.

“YOU HAVE ME PUZZLED BLUE… TO SCAVENGE IS A HUNT FOR FOOD.” Both Lucky and Strike look floored.

“Then why did you say who?” Strike chuckles nervously.

“OBVIOUSLY BECAUSE I MADE A FUNNY. AXE AND PEACHES WOULD HAVE LAUGHED.” The one that is now known to be Nook poses dramatically and somehow his tattered cape like scarf blowing in wind that was not there.

Now the question was… who the hell was Peaches?

“MWEH! OF COURSE I GET IT NOW! VERY FUNNY NOOK!” Nook looks at Lucky weirdly but smiles.

“GOOD TO KNOW THAT MY DARK CANNIBAL JOKES AREN’T *Snicker* DRY.” He pauses and both skeletons seem to have no choice but to laugh while they are screaming internally.

“YES, WELL, NOOK PERHAPS YOU CAN HELP US?” Lucky quickly rebounds to change the subject. Lucky may have seen guts and glory in his line of work but the actual thought of eating someone was not something that sat with him lightly.

Nor for Strike who only sweats as Nook continues to chuckle and say “BONE DRY” under his breath.

“YOU SEE, ABSOLUTELY THE DARNDEST THING. WE ARE MISSING A SOCK. WE’VE BEEN HUNTING FOR IT BECAUSE ORANGE DOESN’T KNOW WHERE HE COULD HAVE LEFT IT… BEST TO RETRIEVE IT BEFORE SOMEONE ELSE STUMBLES UPON IT… LIKE Y/N.” He does the best bubbly impression he has but that doesn’t stop the tall skeleton looking down at him, with a knowing that something isn’t right.

“STARLIGHT.” Nook says bluntly at Lucky who falters.

“I BEG YOUR PARDON?” Lucky tries to keep his cool but even Strike knows when his brother is getting close to the ‘Fuck it’ stage and guns start blazing. Lucky was never really patient unless there was a type of goal that he really wanted to strive for.

“BLUE ARE YOU OKAY? YOU HARDLY EVER CALL PEACHES BY HER NAME ANYMORE. IT’S BEEN AGES SINCE I HEARD YOU SAY IT OTHER THAN STARLIGHT… YOU ALSO LAUGHED AT AXE’S TERRIBLE JOKES. ONLY I AND PEACHES… SOMETIMES EDGE AND RED FIND THEM AMUSING. EVEN RUSS AND YOU ORANGE ABHOR WHAT WE HAD DONE IN OUR TIMELINE AND CRINGE WHEN WE SAY THEM. SANS WON’T EVEN LET AXE TRY THEM IN HIS PRESENCE… PAPYRUS ACCEPTS US FOR WHO WE ARE BUT EVEN HE DOESN’T LIKE THAT KIND OF HUMOR. BERRY STRAIGHT UP FORBIDS US…. THAT IS UNLESS OF COURSE IT'S OVER SOMEONE WHO WAS MEAN TO PEACHES THEN HE FINDS IT HYSTERICAL AND ENCOURAGES IT… CAN NEVER REALLY TELL WITH HIM…” Nook goes off on a tangent… seems to be because he often does. Both skeletons just worriedly shoot glances at one another until he seems done.

“CONSIDER IT US BRANCHING OUT IN UNDERSTANDING FRIEND! MWEH HEH! NOW WE MUST FIND THAT SOCK!” Lucky puffs out his chest.

“OH YES! IT WOULD BE VERY EMBARRASSING FOR PEACHES TO FIND IT. HAVE YOU TRIED LOOKING IN YOUR ROOMS?” Nook questions and Lucky falters.

“WELL UM YES WE THOUGHT BUT PERHAPS YOU COULD HELP US? MORE EYES THE BETTER AT FINDING IT!” Lucky is trying to persuade Nook into helping them find at least Blue or Orange’s room.

Strike smirks. His bro is really good at handling things when he tries.

“NO THANKS.” Nook shrugs and walks off leaving Lucky and Strike to their stupor.

“Uh… Ok…” Strike looks at him quizzically and Nook pauses with a brow raised.

“LOOK, I’M NOT PAPYRUS… WELL TECHNICALLY I AM BUT I’M NOT JUST GOING TO RUN AROUND LOOKING FOR SOMEONE ELSE'S UNMENTIONABLES. THAT’S JUST… WELL UNSANITARY AND RUDE.” Nook scoffs at the other two and meanders off a ways… then turns and eyes them making them stiff.

“YOU TWO ARE ACTING VERY STRANGE. IT’S ALMOST AS IF YOU NEED ME TO FIND YOUR ROOMS ON THE OTHER SIDE DOWN THAT HALL.” He points and both skeletons waive their hands in defense.

“NO NO! OF COURSE NOT! IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY HELPING ORANGE GET THAT FILTHY LAUNDRY TOGETHER.” Lucky is quick on the draw to lie again.

“Yeah it’s been exhausting work waiting for the clothes to be finished… getting pressed…” Strike realizes he didn’t know what those machines were… he only knew dry cleaners… Lucky glares at him briefly.

“OH YES! PERMANENT PRESS! GOOD CYCLE! TAKES FOREVER BUT IT DOES GET EVERYTHING NICELY CRISP AND CLEAN.” Nook nods with a smile and then carries on down stairs.

Lucky and Strike both heave a sigh of relief they didn’t realize they were holding.