#this whole story just was fucking veering left and right and that was how it ended and i just

[storywolf]

and dunked her into a barrel of boiling oil and venomous snakes and she died an evil death.

boiling oil AND venomous snakes???? bro idk how to tell you this but i don't think those snakes are gonna be doing much-

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 16: Sanctuary

Contents | Part 15 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) Ellis gets the keys to her new flat.

Word Count: 7.9K (Grab a snack my dudes, it's a long one.)

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult and sexual themes, alcohol consumption, body insecurity. Smut: penetrative sex, oral sex (receiving), lurrv making, praise, worship, aftercare, feels. Readers must be 18+

A/N: If you enjoyed this chapter I would so, so, so appreciate it if you left a comment. It helps a lot and means more than you’ll ever know to hear what you all think. Thank you so much, hope you enjoy this one as much I do 🤍

"Jesus Christ." 

You considered it a talent; how easily you could compel a priest to take the Lord's name in vain. 

Father Benedict's knuckles were blanched, bone white as he clung to the handle above the passenger door of his car. You could have sworn you saw him make the sign of the cross from the corner of your eye, mumbling a prayer under his breath. 

"At least there's nothing here for me to crash into," you said, taking a hand off the steering wheel to gesture to the empty supermarket carpark around you. 

"Both hands on the wheel," he said.

"Sorry." 

"It's alright, you're doing fine, just... Remember you need to slow down as we approach this turn." 

"Okay." You looked down at your foot as you took it off the accelerator, swapping it to the brake.

"Eyes up, Ellis. You have to do it without looking." 

"Oh, yeah, sorry." 

"Now, get ready to press the clutch down." 

"Why do I need to press the clutch?"

He rubbed his eyes, trying to disguise his growing frustration. "To move into first gear." 

"Oh." You looked down at your feet again. 

"Ellis... Ellis!" 

You looked up, slamming your foot on the brake and bringing the car to a sudden, hard stop just inches from a row of bollards. The car shuddered and the engine cut out, you turned to look at Father Benedict, his hand still gripping the handle above his head.

He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself with a deep breath before glancing over at you. "It's fine," he said calmly. "Just restart the car and let's keep going." 

You fiddled with the keys until the engine roared back to life, the car jerking forward suddenly before cutting out again. 

"Clutch," he said quietly. 

"Right, yes. Clutch. I just- Y'know it's really hard having to do foot things, hand things and eye things all at once."

"Eye things... You mean seeing...?" 

"Yes," you said, starting the car again and moving the gearstick into first. You pulled off slowly, turning the corner that led you back into the empty carpark. "I have to look in front of me, behind me and either side, somehow all at once, while simultaneously using two feet to operate three pedals, and two hands to steer a wheel, indicate and change gear every other fucking second." 

"Change gear." 

"Hm?" 

"You need to change gear. Can you not hear the engine? It sounds like it's going to explode." 

"Oh." You looked down at your feet as you pressed the clutch, then down at your hand as you fiddled with the gearstick. 

He leaned over quickly, gripping the steering wheel with one hand to stop the car veering through the empty bays.

"Shit, sorry," you muttered, taking over again. "I'm pissing you off, aren't I." 

"No! No of course not. I just can't believe you've managed to go your whole life without ever driving a car." 

"Oh, well funny story actually," you began sarcastically. "See, I was in this really serious car crash when I was thirteen and had to be cut out of the wreck with heavy machinery. Oh, and my brother died in the driver's seat right next to me while we waited for emergency services. It was quite traumatising, believe it or not, so when I finally got old enough to take driving lessons I'd have panic attacks at the wheel. Which meant I never actually got to learn. Did I not tell you about that? I'm sure I told you about that."

"Okay, alright, fair point. I apologise." He held his hands up in surrender. "Why don't we have a go at parking instead?" 

He directed you to a space near the back, trying his best to sound encouraging as he talked you through it. 

"Here," he said. "So you're going to slow down and start turning the wheel just before this line, okay?" 

You did as he instructed, driving towards the space and beginning to slow down. 

"Slower," he said. "Even slower. Now start turning- Nope, not that much- You're still going too fast-"

You somehow managed to park diagonally across three spaces, stalling once again in the process. 

"You know what, it's fine," you said with a shrug. "I just... It's time we all accept that I wasn't made to drive, I was made to be driven."

"No, come on, you can do this," he laughed. "Turn the car back on." 

You huffed and did as you were told, like a sulking child. He leaned over and grabbed the wheel, glancing in the rearview mirror before looking at you. 

"Right, clutch down and put it in reverse... Reverse... The one with the R on it, Ellis... Okay, that's it. Now gently on the accelerator." 

The car slowly began to roll backwards. He took your hands and put them on the wheel. 

"Now brake. Okay." He let go and sat back in the passenger seat. "Clutch, first gear, and we'll drive down there." 

"You make this look so easy when you do it," you said as you fiddled with the gearstick.

"It is easy once you get used to it. Becomes like second nature."

"Mm. Or maybe you're just good at everything."

"I'm not good at everything," he laughed.

"Okay, name something you're bad at." 

He paused in thought. "My handwriting's awful." 

You laughed softly, bringing the car to a gentle stop. "Oh my god, I didn't stall." 

"See, I told you," he replied with a smile. "Now get out of my car." 

You climbed out and made your way to the passenger side, waiting as he battled to force open the stiff door. You grabbed the handle and pulled as he pushed, eventually managing to pry it open. He got out, blowing a stray curl out of his eyes and looking down at his watch. 

"Come on, we better get back."

He placed a hand on the top of your head, scrunching his fingers gently in your hair before making his way around to the driver's side of the car. 

You loved when he touched you like that. The simple, chaste gestures that served no purpose beyond showing his affection for you; the comforting hand on the back of your neck or the light squeeze of your thigh, the head scratches and sweep of his thumb across your cheek. There was something so intimate about being touched so purely, how naturally he had inhabited your personal space, and how easily you'd welcomed him in. 

You arrived back at the rectory soon after, Father Benedict's car shuddering as it rolled along the gravel driveway. 

"Have I fucked up your car?" you asked. 

"Nah." He shook his head. "It's on its last legs anyway." 

He got out and lifted two large packs of bottled water from the boot. You tried to take one from him but he refused, insisting on carrying them both. It was late August, the air void of any breeze, thick and muggy despite the cloudy sky. You walked with him down the winding path that led to the pub, beads of sweat peppering your face by the time you got inside. You followed him into the back room, another sign added to the door which read:'St Augustine's Church Book Club - Wednesdays 11am'. And for a moment you questioned why the hell you'd chosen to spend your day off doing this. Why anyone would do this at all. 

You quickly blotted your face with the bottom of your t-shirt, immediately walking over to the windows and pushing them open one by one. It made no difference; there was no air, the outside just as warm and still as it was inside. You rolled your eyes and wandered to the pile of metal chairs, taking them out and unfolding them one by one. 

Father Benedict was humming to himself, his back to you as he set the bottles down on the floor and tore through the packaging. "Ellis, would you mind getting started on the ch-" he turned around to find you already setting them up in a circle. 

"I'm a pro now, Father," you joked.

"That you are," he laughed, turning his back to you again as he unpacked the bottles and set them on the table. "Thank you for helping me with this, I know it's a pain in the arse."

"I don't mind. After that driving lesson this morning I think I owe you."

He chuckled. "Hopefully when Edith gets out of hospital she'll feel well enough to take over again. But until then," he turned around and placed his hands on his hips with a sigh. "Looks like I run a book club." 

You laughed softly. "You're a good soul." 

"I do try." 

There was a moment of quiet, your eyes fixed on each other from across the room, subtle smiles and unspoken desire. He broke first, clearing his throat and looking down at his watch. 

"Right, people should be arriving soon," he said. "Do you want to stick around for the meeting and I'll drive you home afterwards?" 

"I would but I have some last minute flat stuff to sort out before I move in next week." You placed the last chair down to complete the circle. "I can't believe how fucking expensive some things are. Dining tables, hundreds and hundreds of pounds. Why?" 

He bowed his head and laughed. "I'll see you soon."

"Bye," you said with a smile, certain you could feel him watching you as you walked away.

You held the keys in the palm of your hand, staring down at them like you couldn't believe it was real. You hadn't even realised you'd arrived until your father nudged you, jokingly singing She's Leaving Home by The Beatles. 

You rolled your eyes and breathed out a laugh, opening the door and jumping out of the van. You walked up to the front gate, staring up at the building, wondering why you suddenly felt scared. 

"Are you going in or what?" your father called out as he slid open the large side door of his van. 

You glanced over your shoulder at him, then back to the building, taking a deep breath and pushing through the gate. You unlocked the front door and walked inside, the cute frog doormat still sitting outside your neighbour's door.

Neighbour. You had neighbours now. 

You made your way up the first flight of stairs, turning to head up the second when the door of 336B opened and a man stepped out onto the landing with a large bin bag in his hand. You almost walked right into him, stumbling backwards slightly.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," he said.

"It's okay," you replied with a polite laugh.

He stepped aside for you to walk past. "Narrow landings," he said. 

"Yeah." 

You had just reached the first step when he turned and called out to you. "Are you the new neighbour?" 

You nodded.

"Oh, cool, nice to meet you. I'm Rav."

"Ellis. Nice to meet you too." 

"Have you met the downstairs neighbours yet?" 

"No, but I like their doormat." 

He smiled. "Well her name's Lorna, I'm sure she'll come and introduce herself at some point. It's just her and her daughter Blossom." 

"Blossom...?" 

"Yeah." He laughed. "The name'll make sense when you meet them. Anyway, welcome to the building, I better go and get rid of this bag that is definitely not full of pizza boxes."

You breathed out a laugh, giving a slight wave as he disappeared down the stairs. He'd left his door ajar, and it made you feel safe, somehow. Like your building was the kind of place where people could leave their front doors open without worrying, have friendly chats on the landing as they passed each other.

You continued up the stairs, fiddling with the keys in your hand as you approached your new front door. Maybe you'd paint it a fun colour, get yourself a cute doormat too. You unlocked it and stepped inside, swallowing past a lump in your throat as you walked into the middle of the stark, empty living area, the wooden floor glittering with shafts of multicoloured light from the stained glass window.

You sat on the floor and lay down, arms and legs outstretched like a star, basking in the silence, the empty space that was yours to fill. It smelled like fresh paint, a piece of masking tape still stuck to the coving in the corner. You wondered how hard it would be to decorate the ceiling; cover it in stars or patterned wallpaper, paint it like a cloudy sky. You had all the time in the world to decide, the thought making you smile. 

"The fuck are you doing?" 

You sat up to see Mara stepping into the flat, Soleil perched contently on her hip. You clambered to your feet, staring at her as she stood with a raised eyebrow, still so pretty despite the confused scowl on her face. Her eyes darted around the room then back to you, waiting for you to say something.

You weren't a hugger. Neither was she. But still, you found yourself hurrying across the room towards her, wrapping your arms around her and holding her tight.

"Thank you," you said. 

She stilled for a moment before gently rubbing your back. "You're welcome. Just don't get the place repossessed." 

You laughed and pulled away. 

"Nathan's downstairs helping dad up with all your stuff," she said. "I just thought I'd come up and see the place before you fill it with shit." 

"It's nice, isn't it." 

"It's beautiful. I love this." She pointed to the window. "Anyway, I can't stay. I'm taking this little one to a mother and baby class. Shoot me. But I'll pop round once you're settled. We can kill each other putting together some flatpack furniture."

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. 

"I'll see you soon. Happy moving day."

"Enjoy your class." 

She brought two fingers to the side of her head, miming a gunshot. 

You watched as she walked out, her voice suddenly becoming high-pitched and animated as she talked to Soleil. When you could no longer hear her, you sat back down on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you waited for Nathan and your father. 

For months, your life had sat inside a cluttered garage, waiting, waning, much like you. Now all of a sudden there was light. 

You hadn't gotten used to the intercom yet; the loud buzz still making you jump whenever it rang through the flat. You rushed to the door, practically hurdling over boxes to get there, and pressed the button on the wall. 

"Hello?" 

"It's me." 

You inhaled sharply through your nose, trying to hold in the smile threatening to spread across your face. "I'll be down in a second." 

You ran downstairs, not bothering to change out of your t-shirt and pyjama shorts, and opened the front door, the smile finally breaking through when you saw Father Benedict on the other side. He was in his own clothes; a grey t-shirt, dark jeans and trainers. You still found it strange seeing him so casual, so normal. But even in the most ordinary of clothing, there was still something ethereal about him. 

"Hi," you said.

"Hi." He gave a charming smile.

"Do you want to come in?" 

"Yes, I would much prefer that to standing on the doorstep." 

You laughed sarcastically, allowing him to step in and closing the door behind him. 

He followed you upstairs, the closer you got, the tighter your stomach became. You were excited; excited to see him in your space, to blur the lines between your two worlds. 

"So obviously I've only been here for two days," you said as you walked into the flat. "So it's still mostly unfurnished. And there's boxes everywhere. And I haven't-"

"Wow," he whispered as he stepped inside. 

"What do you think?" 

"It's nice. Really nice. And this..." He wandered over to the window. "It's beautiful." 

"I know." You felt a slight sense of pride wash over you, his approval mattering more than you thought it would. "Do you want a tour?" 

"Sure." 

"Okay, well obviously this is the living room," you gestured to the space around you. 

There was a small second-hand couch, an old coffee table from your mother's house and a TV balanced atop a cardboard box. Your green chair sat in the window, the place you'd spent the majority of the last two days.

He followed you through to the alcove where you opened each door. "Bathroom. Spare room or office, haven't decided yet. And my bedroom..." 

He peered inside the empty room, furrowing his brow at the double mattress on the floor, your duvet and pillows strewn messily on top. 

"My bed won't be delivered for another three weeks," you said. 

"Ah." 

"I actually don't mind this though. It's quite comfy." 

He smiled at you, following you back towards the kitchen. 

"And this is my kitchen, complete with empty cupboards and a microwave I have no idea how to use." 

"Love it." 

You laughed.

He cocked his head slightly, eyeing you for a moment. 

"What?" you asked. 

He shrugged. "I just like seeing you like this. You're happy."

You paused for a moment. "I really am." 

There was a lull as he gazed down at you, eyes creasing with joy from seeing you so content. But after a moment he snapped out of it. 

"Oh, I brought you a little gift," he said, reaching to pull something from his back pocket. "Now, I know you're not religious, but in the catholic faith this is supposed to bring protection to your home, so I wanted you to have one..." 

He handed you a small glass picture frame, the edges decorated with intricate gold filigree. Inside was a depiction of Christ, a vibrant red heart on his chest. 

"It's the sacred heart," he said, an uncertainty in his tone. "You can tell me to go fuck myself if you don't want to-"

"No. No, this is... It's really thoughtful. Thank you." You pressed it to your chest, smiling at him appreciatively, before walking past him into the living area. 

He followed, watching from the kitchen doorway as you placed the dainty frame in the middle of the coffee table. You turned to see him smiling, creating the deep lines in his cheeks that you loved so much. 

You looked around for a moment before clearing your throat. "Do you have to be anywhere?" 

"Nope, I am completely free for once."

"Really? Well, would you maybe want to stay for a while? I was just going to order food and maybe watch some films or..." 

"What films?" 

"Oh, let me think, erm... Passion of the Christ... Stigmata... The Exorcist... The God Father." 

He gave a sarcastic laugh. "Hilarious." 

You smirked, far too proud of your own joke. 

"Yes. I'd love to stay," he said sincerely.

"Great." 

There was another moment of quiet between you as you stood across the room from each other. He was leaning against the kitchen doorframe with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, while you hovered near the coffee table, nervously twiddling your fingers. Since you met him, you had always been the guest. Now suddenly you were the host, and you weren't sure what you were supposed to do. 

"What's that going to be?" he asked, nodding towards a pile of wood, screws and nails on the floor.

"A bookcase. I got annoyed and gave up." 

He chuckled and walked over to it, crouching down to read the instructions before picking up a heavy, black Dr Marten boot. "Please don't tell me this is what you're using for a hammer."

"What else would you suggest I use?" 

"An actual hammer...?" He picked up a bread knife, holding it up at you with a raised eyebrow. 

"Screwdriver," you said. 

He dropped his head and laughed. "Okay. Okay, I can work with it." 

"Oh, you don't have to-" 

"I want to," he said, grabbing a large plank of wood and leaning it against the wall. "Doesn't look too complicated."

You'd never found traditional masculinity particularly attractive before; never desired a man who could build or fix or lift. But for two hours, you watched Father Benedict put together your bookcase. You watched him heave heavy slabs of wood with ease, hold nails between his lips as he eyeballed measurements and use his t-shirt to mop the sweat from his brow. 

When he was done, he took a step back, hands on hips as he admired his work. He knocked his fist against the side of it, showing you just how sturdy it was, and moved the entire thing across the room and back twice when you changed your mind about where it should go.

You were sitting together now, cross-legged on the floor in front of it as you sorted through a box of books. You had a specific system, a particular way you liked to order your shelves. You knew it was annoying, remembering how Alfie would huff whenever he put a book on your shelf only to have you move it back to its original place soon after. But Father Benedict didn't huff, didn't get irritated or tell you it was stupid. Instead he was patient; asking you questions and trying to learn the system so he could follow it without having to ask where things should go.

He reached into the box and pulled out the bible he'd given you, sticky notes still poking out from between the pages. It felt like a lifetime ago now, a relic of an era you didn't even recognise anymore. He held it up and you smiled. 

"You can have it back if you want," you said. 

"No, you keep it," he said, sliding it onto the shelf in the exact place you would have put it. 

You sifted through a handful of books, finding a small, leather-bound binder amongst them. 

"Is that a photo album?" he asked. 

"No," you lied, throwing it back in the box.

He pulled it back out immediately, opening it and flicking through the plastic wallet pages with a grin. He turned it around to show you a picture; your scrawny, eight-year-old self scowling at the camera as she sat on a sun lounger beside a hotel pool. 

"I was annoyed because my mum was forcing me to wear a t-shirt in the water," you said. 

He gave a deep chuckle in his throat, turning the album back to him and fanning his thumb across the photos. 

"Is this your brother?" he asked, showing you another picture.

You tilted your head to one side, looking down at the image you vividly remembered being taken. You were twelve, wearing a blue floral shirt beneath a brown pinafore dress, a large rubber mallet in your hand. Cain was standing beside you in a white vest, ugly Hawaiian shirt and bright red trousers, his hair styled in a ridiculous quiff. 

"Yeah," you said. "We were at my aunt and uncle's costume party." 

He looked at the picture for a moment. "He went as Ace Ventura?" 

"Mhm." 

"Nice." He smiled, before narrowing his eyes. "Who the fuck were you supposed to be?" 

"I was Kathy Bates in Misery," you said bluntly, as if it were obvious.

He burst into laughter. "What kid chooses that as a costume?" 

You shrugged. "What would you have preferred I go as? A Spice Girl?" 

He continued to giggle, shaking it away as he analysed the photo closer. "You have his smile." 

"You think so?" 

"Mhm." 

You took the album from him gently, closing it and putting it back in the box. "Evidently I have his driving ability too." 

His mouth opened slightly, eyes widening as he breathed out a laugh. "That was dark." 

"I was a kid who loved Stephen King films, what do you expect?" 

His mouth curled into a half smile. 

You struggled to your feet, your legs tingly and numb from sitting cross-legged for so long. You hobbled to the couch and picked up your phone, turning back to look at him. 

"Shall we order food?" 

The sun was slowly fading, a promise that summer was finally coming to an end. The dim light melted through the window, making the flat feel smaller, cozy and serene. You convinced him to watch trashy reality TV while you ate dinner on the couch, laughing as he grew invested in the drama, shouting at the screen with a mouthful of food. 

You couldn't remember ever feeling this comfortable with another human being. It was effortless, harmonious; two voices blending together to create something new and beautiful. You had been drawn to his exterior, attracted to the parts you could see on the surface. But the deeper you delved, you only seemed to discover more to adore. 

The coffee table was strewn with empty takeaway boxes and trays. Obnoxiously loud music played as the end credits of the show began to roll. You forced yourself to get off the couch, making your way towards the kitchen. 

"Do you need another drink?" you asked.

"Please," he replied, stuck to the couch and nursing his full stomach. 

You pushed through the door and opened the fridge, pulling out the bottle of champagne your mother had given you as a housewarming gift. 

He looked up at you as you returned, his eyes creasing with amusement at the bottle and two mismatched mugs in your hands. 

"I'm not the champagne-flute-owning kind of person," you said. 

"No way," he teased.

You rolled your eyes and sat beside him, popping the cork and pouring some into each mug. 

He waited for you to bring the mug to your lips before taking a sip himself, the pair of you sharing a glance as the sharp, bubbling liquid slid down your throat. 

You grimaced. "I forgot I don't like champagne." 

He laughed, taking it and placing it on the table for you. You thanked him and relaxed back into the couch, tucking your feet beneath you as you flicked through movies on the TV. 

It grew dark outside as the movie played, the TV illuminating the room with a blueish hue. You kept asking questions, another habit Alfie would groan at until you stopped watching movies together at all. But Father Benedict simply answered them, even laughing at how thoroughly you'd misunderstood the plot.

You sat forward and grabbed your mug of champagne, wincing as you took another sip. "So now who's that?" you asked, pointing at the TV.

"That's the big boss," he said. 

"But I thought the other guy was the big boss?" 

"He is. Of the rival group." 

"Oh. But then why did those men go and talk to him before?" 

"Well because it's obviously being hinted at that they're moles of some kind." 

"Ah." You put your mug back on the table. 

He looked at you, his mouth curling with a smile. "You're still not following, are you." 

"Nope." 

He gave a deep, throaty laugh. "We can watch something else if you'd prefer?" 

You shook your head and leaned back against him, absentmindedly taking his arm and draping it around your shoulders. "I'm enjoying it." 

"You keep saying you don't have a clue what's going on..." 

"Yeah but you do. So we're watching it." 

He paused for a moment, exhaling a quick, soft breath through his nose. You felt his body relax, his arm wrapping around you more securely. He placed his other hand in his lap, palm up, silently asking you to hold it. You linked your fingers through his and he squeezed your hand gently.

When the movie ended, you didn't move, too comfortable and content in his embrace. You watched the credits roll to the very end, the remote control just out of reach. Father Benedict moved his arm, scratching your head with the tips of his fingers. You turned your head to look up at him.

"I thought you'd fallen asleep," he said. 

You laughed softly and forced yourself to sit upright. "Of course not, I was just very invested in the film." 

He smirked. "Of course, silly me." 

You looked at him, admiring the structure of his face beneath the glow of the TV; the soft shadows and sharp angles, smile lines and pale, captivating eyes. 

"Thank you for spending your one, very rare night off with me," you said. "I know there's probably a million things you'd rather be doing than building bookcases and explaining movie plots to me."

He shook his head. "There is nothing else I'd rather be doing." 

His own words seemed to give him pause. You cocked your head, watching as his eyes rounded, turning soft and glassy, his jaw relaxing, lips parting ever so slightly. 

"What's up?" you asked. 

"Nothing," he said quietly, blinking a few times and swallowing hard. 

You thought about pressing him for a moment, but you didn't. Instead you got up and gathered the mess from the table. 

"Do you want something different to drink?" you asked. "I can't stomach that champagne anymore." 

He shook his head distractedly, staring blankly at the TV. 

You shrugged and carried the rubbish into the kitchen, stuffing it in the bin and forcing it down until the lid finally closed. Then you moved to the sink to wash your hands, peering out at the tall, thick tree that stretched across the window. In the mornings, you could hear birds singing inside it, and at night you would watch the leaves sway gently in the breeze. 

You were drying your hands when the door opened behind you. You glanced over your shoulder to see Father Benedict stepping into the kitchen. 

"Hey," you said. "Changed your mind about the drink?" 

He didn't say anything as he walked up behind you, turning you around to look at him and taking your face in his hands. 

You stayed quiet as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, inhaling deeply as he kissed you softly, slowly, earnestly. You placed a hand on his cheek, returning the kiss, following his lead. His breath quivered as he broke away - just for a moment - to tilt his head the other way and bring his lips back to yours. He moved a hand to the back of your head, clutching your hair in his fist, the other slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him. You curved your hands around the back of his neck, rising onto your toes to kiss him with more ease.

Usually when you kissed, there was an urgency behind it, a hunger, a primal, impatient need for one another that made you move with haste and vigour. But this was different, somehow. It was longing, desperate, intense. You could feel anguish in his hold of you, reverence in the way he moved his lips, so slowly and deliberately. 

He broke away again, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his chest, resting them there as you caught his gaze with your own, searching his eyes for a clue, a reason for his sudden sincerity. But all you saw was adoration, a shimmer in his waterline. 

You led him to your bedroom, his hold on you never wavering as you moved together through the flat, as though he couldn't bring himself to let go of you, even for a second. You opened the door and pulled him gently into the room, kissing him with the same care and patience he'd shown you. 

The room was dark and cool, the curtain-less window letting in a dim glow from the streetlights outside. You wished you'd taken the time to make the bed this morning; your rumpled duvet and mismatched pillows strewn across the sad mattress in the middle of the floor. You opened your mouth to apologise for it, but he caught the words in another kiss before they could surface. 

He broke away to take off his t-shirt, throwing it aside and immediately returning his lips to yours, as though any second he was deprived of you was a second too long. You let your fingers dance over the ridges of his torso; the firm muscle of his chest and soft flesh of his belly, the trail of hair beneath his navel and smooth skin slowly puckering with goosebumps. You could no longer imagine a world where this body didn't belong to you. 

You moved your hands to the waistline of his jeans but he stopped you, gently pulling his hips back and reaching for the hem of your t-shirt instead. You raised your arms above your head as he peeled it from you, still fighting the urge to hide yourself from him as he laid eyes on your body, even after all this time. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing you deeply as he unclasped your bra. You slid the straps down your arms and let it fall to the ground, melting as the warmth of his chest pressed against yours. 

He lowered you both to the mattress, laying you gently on your back as he began showering your body in kisses. Your core fluttered with every warm press of his lips to your skin, your nipples growing tight and hard, making you shiver as his tongue grazed over them. He moved lower, kissing your ribs, hips and stomach, letting his hands roam in tandem with his mouth, taking in as much of you as he could at once. 

You tensed your abs beneath his lips, arching your back, making your body appear firmer, ridding yourself of any curves, any softness you didn't want him to see. He responded by kissing the parts you couldn't hide; the dip at your waist and the rounds of your breasts, the soft spot over your womb and the imprint your pyjama shorts had left on your hips. He was admiring the things you thought of as flaws, worshipping them like virtues. 

He slid the shorts further down your thighs. You lifted your backside off the mattress, allowing him to drag them down along with your underwear. He tossed them aside and continued to cover you in kisses; the heat of his breath making your body tingle, the anticipation of feeling him in the place that craved him most sending shivers through your core. His lips grazed over the crease where hip met thigh, slowly travelling inwards but never touching your centre. 

You sighed in desperation, reaching down to stroke his hair. He glanced up at you, like your touch had snapped him out of a trance, and crawled back up to kiss your lips. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to you, the solid bulge in his jeans pressing against your stomach. 

"Are you teasing me?" you whispered, playfully thrusting your hips against his erection. 

He breathed out a soft laugh before falling serious again. "I'm indulging in you." He kissed your neck. "You, Ellis, are the most... divine woman I have ever met."

Divine - Of a God, or God-like. 

Was that really how he saw you? Heavenly? Seraphic? Something worthy of worship? In the beginning, you'd been a temptation, a test, a weakness. But now, you were divine.

He trailed his kisses back down your body, parting your legs and pressing his lips to your inner thighs. You lay back and closed your eyes, fists clenching the duvet beneath you as his tongue finally made contact with your clit, so lightly it was almost torturous. 

You'd gotten so used to the severity of your interactions; the pent up frustration or deep, aggressive need that made sex hard, rough and intense. It's what you wanted, what you enjoyed. You'd almost forgotten it could be like this; tender, forbearing, every breath hanging like a pause in the air between you. 

He licked along the seam of your pussy, lapping and sucking as he hummed in pleasure, like he could happily spend the entire night with his face buried between your legs.  

"Ben," you whispered.

Your back arched as he flicked his tongue, focusing the pressure on your clit, hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you in place. You whimpered, filling the quiet room with the sound of your shallow breaths as your fingers dug into the sheets. You never understood why it took so long to give yourself an orgasm, yet every time, without fail, he had you on the brink in minutes. It was like your body had an express setting, and he was the only person who knew how to activate it. 

He didn't speed up, didn't change pressure or adjust your positions. Yet still, the slow, gentle sweeps of his tongue drew the climax from you in a deep, shuddering rush. Your legs shook, toes curling as an electric current whirred through your core. You moaned softly, reaching down to grab whatever part of him you could as you rode out your orgasm against his mouth. 

You hadn't even realised he'd moved until you felt him kiss your jaw, the weight of his body on your chest. If you were divine, then you were convinced he must be God himself. You turned your head, catching his lips with your own and cupping his face in your hands. He reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, his hard cock springing out against your stomach as he shimmied them off. 

You spread your legs further, rocking your hips wantonly. He sighed into your mouth, breaking away and resting his forehead against yours, looking down into your eyes as he shifted to position himself at your entrance. 

He groaned as he entered you, slipping effortlessly through the slick and filling you with a familiar, breathtaking pressure. He drew back and pushed inside again, slowly, making you feel every ridge and vein, every inch and pulsation against your inner walls. A quiet moan escaped you, a tight coiling deep in your belly making you squeeze around him. 

He kept eye contact as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, as though nothing else in the world existed besides the place your bodies became one. He slid his fingers between yours, pushing your hands above your head and holding them there, kissing you, moaning with you, connecting with you in a way you weren't sure you'd ever connected with anyone before. 

Your breath was trembling; the friction of his cock, his groin rubbing against your clit, the weight of him on top of you, all sending you into a heady daze. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning against your skin. You let go of his hands and wrapped them around his back, holding him close to you, fingernails pressing into the flesh of his shoulder blades. 

You weren't sure how long it had been, but your thighs were starting to ache, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter with every steady slide of his cock. You dug your nails deeper into his back, eliciting a growl deep in his throat. He lifted his head, brushing away the hair that had stuck to your face with sweat, and kissed you lovingly. 

The next orgasm was different than the first; it was heavier, more guttural, coming from a place deeper inside you. The first was electric and airy, spiritual and sublime. But this one was earthly, carnal, thundering through your body like an earthquake. It was so visceral that he felt it too, almost losing his composure as you came around him.

He kept kissing you, moving with long, slow strokes until your limbs softened, head falling back against the mattress in bliss. Your eyelids were heavy as you gazed up at him, a part of you certain that you could have drifted off to sleep, sated and satisfied. But the other part never wanted him to stop. 

He rested on his elbows, propping them either side of your head. "You know," he whispered. "You're the only woman I've ever came inside." 

You let out a breathy gasp, his confession sending a shiver through your entire body.

"And it is..." he continued. "The most incredible feeling." 

You whimpered, clutching the back of his neck with both hands and bringing his forehead back to yours. He almost lost it again, his rhythm faltering for a moment. He planted his palms on the mattress either side of your head, looking down at you with intense, stormy blue eyes. 

He knew you liked his voice, liked it when he said dirty things, talked to you as he buried his cock inside you. But that wasn't for you. He wanted you to know that, to understand you were separate from whoever he'd been with before. 

"Come inside me," you whispered against his lips. "Ben..."

He exhaled a heavy breath, thrusting deep and slow before finally letting go. He growled into your mouth as he sank as far as he could, cock pulsing as he released every last drop of pleasure.

You wrapped your arms around him as he collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving, damp curls tickling your face. You smoothed them down, closing your eyes and relaxing beneath the shelter of his large frame. You could hear again; the whoosh of distant traffic outside, the annoying buzz of the lampposts, the sound of Father Benedict's heavy breaths. It was serene, a contentment you never knew you were capable of. 

After a while, he shifted slightly, laying kisses across your chest. You smiled, exhaling a soft laugh as his lips tickled your skin. He'd softened inside you, sliding out as he moved, continuing his kisses down to your stomach before resting his head there, seemingly more tired than he'd thought he was. You giggled again, stroking his head gently. 

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Mhm."

"You sure?"

"Yes," you said with a smile. 

"Good."

He stayed there a while longer, resting on you like a pillow, swirling his fingers over your hips and stomach as you played with his hair. 

"Ben..." you said quietly.

"Mm?"

"Don't leave me tonight."

He lifted his head to look at you. "I won't."

You nodded with a smile.

He shuffled up the mattress to lay at your side, draping a leg over yours and pulling you into him. You nuzzled your face into his neck and closed your eyes. 

You didn't think this place could feel any more like home. But with him there, you would happily never leave.

You woke groggy and confused, the side of your face stuck to Father Benedict's bare chest. You had no idea of the time, but the sky was still pitch black outside, the room colder than it was when you fell asleep. You sat up and began shuffling to the edge of the mattress when you felt him grab your arm with a sleepy grumble. You turned back to see him squinting at you in a half-sleepy state, shushing him softly and gently releasing your arm from his grasp.

"I'm just going to get some water," you whispered.

He relaxed back into the mattress and closed his eyes. You smiled and climbed to your feet, walking out of the bedroom as quietly as you could. 

You didn't bother to cover up. It was one of the joys of living alone, people would always say, being able to walk around naked. You never understood why anyone would do that, but as you padded through the flat and into the kitchen, completely unclothed, you felt like you finally got the appeal.

You glanced at the clock on the cooker - 2:34am - wondering what the hell made you stir from sleep at that time. Then you tried to swallow, your throat so dry it seemed to stick closed, and you realised that was why. You took a glass from the draining board and pulled your new water filter out of the fridge, pouring just enough for you to swill your mouth out. Then you poured a full glass, gulping it down without stopping. 

Father Benedict pushed through the kitchen door, the sudden noise making you jump in fright. 

"Sorry," he said, his voice low and croaky. 

He was naked too, his hair wild and messy, eyes still half-lidded with sleep. 

"It's okay." You put your glass down. "I didn't mean to disturb you when I got up." 

"Don't worry." He pointed to his mouth. "Could do with a drink as well."  

You padded around the kitchen together in a comfortable silence, naked in more than just body. Moonlight filtered in through the window, casting a milky glow across your skin, making everything seem soft, calm. You stretched on your tiptoes to reach a glass from the cupboard, handing it to him as he grabbed the water filter off the counter. You rinsed your glass at the sink as he guzzled down two lots of water, one after the other. Then you took his glass when he was done, rinsing it and placing it side-by-side with yours on the draining board.

You felt him press his body against your back as you stood at the sink, placing a kiss on the side of your head, another on the back of your shoulder. You let your head fall back against his chest, basking in the feeling of his hands as they roamed your body; squeezing your breasts and dipping between your legs. He slid a finger through the slick he'd left there and you hummed softly, tilting your head to give him access to your neck. He nipped you with his teeth, soothing the sting with a kiss, and you closed your eyes as his finger slid into your pussy. It was brief, shallow, but enough to make your stomach flutter. 

He brought his lips to your ear. "I like that there's still a part of me inside you." 

You shivered, composing yourself quickly and turning your head to look at him from the corner of your eye. "Only because I fell asleep." 

He gave a short, deep chuckle, his voice so gruff and low you could feel it vibrating against your ear. He inhaled deeply through his nose, letting it out in a calm, quiet breath. "Bend over." 

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him again. 

He squeezed your backside. "If you want to, that is..."

He fucked you in the kitchen, tiredness doing little to deter his stamina, and afterwards he carried you back to bed, stroking your hair and holding you until you drifted off again. The next time you stirred, it was you who wanted him, nudging him awake and straddling his lap, riding his cock until your body gave out, your mutual climax coming quick and with little effort.

Your joints ached, skin peppered with love bites and fingertip bruises, hair sticking to the nape of your neck with sweat. But you didn't care. It was all evidence of him, memories that would echo in the days that followed.

The mattress shifted. You opened your eyes to the room illuminated in the faint light of dawn. You blinked through the grit in your vision to see Father Benedict putting on his clothes, trying to be quiet as he hopped into his jeans and searched the floor for his t-shirt. He turned to find you sitting up watching him, making his way around to your side and crouching to bring himself face-to-face with you. 

"I have to get to the church," he said.

"Okay," you croaked, shifting to get up. 

"Hey, it's alright, you stay there and I'll let myself out." 

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Go back to sleep, it's still early."

"Okay." 

He tilted your chin up with his finger and leaned in to kiss you. 

It was gentle, lingering, like he didn't want it to end. And when he finally broke away, he pressed his forehead to yours.

"Goodbye, Ellis."

"Bye."

You watched him leave, listening as the slam of your front door echoed through the flat. Only then did you lie back down, pressing your face to the pillow he'd slept on and giving in to slumber once more.

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen @battledress @chaosdorito @vlqueen @erratica47 @happybunnyclumsyduck @bloggerbatch @bimrwolf @chaand-sitara

*If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the tag list here

[shitouttabuck]

What WIPs do you have right now and what's a little snip or just something about them (how you came up with the idea, what you're excited about, what you're listening to as you write, what you're struggling with, etc.)? Also, what's your favorite snack food?

HI okay this is a big answer but i’m taking you at face value that you actually wanna know haha !! popping them under the cut for anyone who doesn’t

1. current wips are: christmas fic (love you like a dog sequel) / sickfic / madney wedding bed sharing (another. lol) / fuck you buckley parents (tbh i’ve forgotten what i wanted to write here) / kissing bruises prompt (for @eddiebabygirldiaz) / cruise disaster fight fic (nina writing non-crack? alert the papers alert bella hadid)

2. a snip from xmas fic:

“Oh,” Buck grins. “Best friend’s cool older brother situation, huh?” Eddie makes a face at him.  “She did look pretty happy to see you,” Buck shrugs, leaning his forearms on the trolley handle. “Mm,” Eddie looks at him. “S’that why you rubbed yourself all over me?” “No,” Buck says haughtily. “It’s just been a while since I rubbed myself all over you. Figured now was as good a time as any to catch up.” He grins when Eddie rolls his eyes and hip-checks him, making the trolley wobble and veer left. The first time Buck had gotten all up in Eddie’s space like this, cheeky and dimpled and all oh I didn’t see you there as he wrapped himself around Eddie for everyone to see, it had been during a charity drive at the station. Eddie’d bundled him into a storage closet to kiss him exasperatedly about it for a bit and said, “Why don’t you just take a leak on me, let everyone know who I belong to?” Buck looked like he was having a stroke then, jaw slack and eyelashes trembling. He’d been pink in the tops of his cheeks for the whole day after, sneaking looks at Eddie when he thought he wasn’t aware.

3. i usually come up with dialogue first and stories sort of form around it? OR i hear a song and think of a lyric title and build it based on that. like for cruise disaster fic (which i’m not sharing yet) i heard a song, thought of dialogue in one particular scene, and went from there.

im really excited about that one i think! i’ve been enjoying writing a lot recently (idk if you can tell from the. Three fics i’ve posted this month lmfao)

i can’t listen to anything while writing i get super distracted!!

struggling with: xmas fic and idk why. i’ve written the entire first half, plotted the entire second half in bullet points but just struggling to write it out. anyone got any advice for that block i am desperate!! really wanna post it

4. fave snack food anything dipped in hummus orrr green mango sliced with salt and chilli powder :)

[elliewilliamslover]

The Archer

4. Fucking Scars

Here is the masterlist for this story

Once all in the truck, Y/n sat down next to Abby and they started off towards the gates of the stadium. It was just silence until Mel spoke. "How've you guys been sleeping these days?" She asked both of them. "Could be better." "Not too great." Abby and Y/n replied. A couple seconds went by with silence. "You want me to get you guys anything from the pharmacy or something?" Mel asked, trying to make the air less dense." "Nah, I'm good." Abby said swiftly after the question.

"What can you get?" Y/n asked, interested in what Mel could get for her. "Well I can try to get you Diphenhydramine but that's for allergies like symptoms, but it does make you drowsy so I guess that could help. There's also Doxylamine, it's kinda like Diphenhydramine but it lasts longer, meaning it would keep you asleep for a couple hours more." She said looking over at Y/n in thought. She thought about it for a bit then said, "I'll have whatever the second one is that you said."

"Great, I'll swing by the pharmacy when we return and get some for you." Mel said with a soft smile on her face. "Thanks Mel." She said smiling at her then looking around, taking in the beautiful scenery. As wrecked as it looked outside the walls that were guarding her home, the stadium, some parts of the city looked breathtaking, especially from the tall buildings. After a couple minutes of Abby and Mel talking Alice suddenly barked loudly. Gunshots and arrows soon hit the truck, every bullet putting another dent in it.

"Ambush!" Mel yelled. "Fucking Scars!" Y/n said reaching for her bow, then Abby grabbed Y/n out of the way by her bicep, pulling her into her chest avoiding an oncoming arrow. "Thanks." She mumbled to Abby. "Don't sweat it." Abby said going back to killing the Scars. Y/n pulled out the .44 Pistol, pulled back the loading gate with her thumb, aimed it at a Scar riding on a horse and fired. She hit the dead center of their chest, knocking the Scar off their horse.

"Fuck yeah." She said, letting out an unsteady breath she'd been holding in. Manny made a quick left making Y/n topple on top of Abby, they both let out groans. Y/n mumbling an apology. "Are you okay?" Abby asked quickly, helping Y/n to a sitting position. "Never better!" She replied sarcastically. The truck had made a couple more turns, weaving through trucks that were in the way.

After passing the small almost semi like trucks, one of the Scars on top of a van threw a molotov at the truck making Manny veer to the right. "I can't see!" He exclaimed, now making a sharp left throwing Y/n to the other side of the truck. After being thrown to the other side, a Scar came running up to the truck, swinging a handmade machete right to her face. "Oh shit!" She yelled as the blade lightly grazed her cheek, making a medium sized, jagged cut. It could've been the whole left side of her cheek if Abby hadn't pulled her out of harm's way for the third time that day.

"Manny!" Abby screamed, holding Y/n tight as they went hurling down the hill. A couple seconds of rolling down the bumpy hill they landed quite the opposite of gracefully at what looked like the back of a big building. "You guys okay?" Abby asked Mel and Y/n. "Yeah." "No." Y/n said after Mel. "How far are we away from the FOB?" Abby asked getting out of the now useless truck in which Mel responded, "It's a hike." "We gotta go guys." Y/n said as she went to get out of the truck. Abby, unthinkingly, held her hand out for Y/n to grab to help her down. She looked at her unoccupied hand then said, "I'm not a princess Abs, I can help myself down." sarcastically, taking Abby's hand in hers, jumping out and quickly following Manny and Mel in pursuit to the loading dock.

They run to Mel and Manny as he gets in first, then Abby, helping Mel up. "Your Majesty?" Abby said sarcastically, holding her hand out again for Y/n to take. "Haha, fuck you too." She said, taking her hand and getting pulled up. Abby quickly shut the overhead door with a slam and turned to Y/n. "Hey, you should get your cheek patched up." She said handing her some Alcohol and a small rag. "Thanks." She said and cleaned her wounds. "Hey Abs." Manny said, making Abby turn from you, placing her attention on Manny. "There's enough stuff here to make a pipe bomb." He said drawing Y/n's attention now.

"Is there enough for two?" She said walking up to the rest of the group. "You know how to make one?" Abby said, staring up at Y/n. "I mean, kinda, it's similar to a nail bomb I made years ago so it should be easy." Y/n said opening her backpack up and grabbing some supplies out of it, along with taking some from the ground, making a pipe bomb. "How do you know how to make a nail bomb?" Manny asked Y/n as she worked on putting the pipe bomb together. "Magic." She said quickly finishing the pipe bomb and throwing her back pack over her shoulders.

They soon went into the main part of the warehouse and started looking for an exit when they heard muffled groans coming from the far end. Alice growled then Y/n listened closely and heard what she was growling about. "Infected!" Y/n whisper yelled to the group making them all crouch behind the counters. From what they could see, there were only three. "Y/n, Abby, you guys take those ones down there, I'll get the one to the right." Manny whispered to them. Y/n snuck up and grabbed one by the throat, taking out the knife she kept in her pocket and stabbed the runner in the head, slowly bringing it to the ground and taking her knife out when it stopped moving.

Once everything was silent they got up and went back to looking for an exit. Y/n stopped looking on the ground and started looking above everything. "Hey, look up there." She said pointing to the light coming through. "Nice job Y/n/n." Abby said, coming to stand behind her. "I'll go check it out." She said walking up to the big shelves. "Be careful Y/n." Abby said to her with slight worry behind her voice. "Psh, careful is my middle name Abs." She said, making her way to the top. She looked around and found an opening on one of the big shelves. She thought for a moment if it was safe to jump over to it. She walked back to the edge of the shelf, looking straight ahead and started running, jumping at the edge in front of her, slamming onto the metal shelf.

Pulling herself up, she realized it was starting to move forward. The sound of metal on metal could be heard throughout the whole building as she fell forward, tumbling onto the floor. As she got up a heavy piece of plywood fell on top of her, making her fall back down. Trying to push the plywood off her, Y/n started hearing a clicking noise getting closer to her. "Shit." She said, not bothering to be quiet since it was already hurling towards her. She took out her gun and fired it at the clicker only to realize she was out of bullets. "Guys!" She yelled watching it get closer and closer to her. Alice then jumps on the clicker bringing it down. Soon Mel, Abby and Manny came rushing in, Abby grabbing the plywood and holding it up for Y/n to crawl out.

"Here they come!" Mel yelled as more infected came rushing in every which way. After they killed most of the infected a shambler slowly came out, you noticed before anyone else. "Guys! we got a shambler!" She said lighting the pipe bomb she made, throwing it at the shambler. Once it was down and dead, it went silent for a few moments until Y/n walked up to the shambler staring at it, wiping infected blood off her forehead as she spoke.

"I want tomorrow off." 

"You and me both."

[daechwitatamic]

This chapter was a masterpiece. You had me crying literal tears of pain at some moments and my heart absolutely melting at others. How dare you make me experience so many emotions on a Friday! As punishment, you must read my novel of a reaction below.

Wow. Taehyung. Just wow. Let me tell you, his reaction to this situation is worse than I even expected. When Y/N pushed him away, instead of him trying to explain his feelings, he just got so mean. "You said we're the same as we've always been? You're a fucking liar." WOW. I gasped. The man deserves to get slapped. Proof that the kiss wasn't because he cares about her, it's because he's trying to punish her because he has some twisted belief he's been wronged. And the man is also giving me whiplash. His text messages seemed so apologetic and caring, but then when he showed up at their apartment his attitude had done a total one-eighty and he was just so awful to both of them. The man has some serious work on himself to do. 😤

Also this Namjoon is perfection. I could never imagine someone possibly reacting in a more mature, supportive, and helpful way to this entire situation than he has. And honestly Y/N too has been so mature and self-aware, questioning the healthiness and validity of her own self-doubts before acting. It's beautiful to see two characters like this. At every point where I thought things between them were going to veer off into a point of miscommunication or misunderstanding, they worked through it together.

I loved their moments at the pond and especially when Namjoon confessed that Y/N makes him feel like he can just be his unfiltered, nerdy self with her and hasn't felt that way around anyone else. We've seen so much of Namjoon being there for Y/N throughout the story that it was so sweet to see him acknowledge how she's made him feel supported and seen as well, even if it wasn't through any particular hardship.

As for the POVs, I'm so glad you are thinking of writing the Taehyung one, I think this would be so interesting to see and I really want to know what is going on inside that man's head because his actions are... not it. Maybe it's because I have it so down bad for Taehyung, or maybe it's because I have a soft spot for an emotionally illiterate idiot best friend who doesn't realize he's in love with the girl until it's too late (and just read @foxymoxynoona's very different but also amazing story around this concept, "Tell Me What Changed", highly recommend), but I am still holding out hope for some sort of a redemption arc for him. You're right that you do give us a lot of Namjoon's perspective already, and that unlike Taehyung one of the beautiful things about him is that he actually communicates his thoughts and feelings (imagine that!) to Y/N, so we don't have to guess what's going on inside his head. But I think Namjoon's character is someone who is so careful and thoughtful with their words, I'd be curious to get a peek into his raw, unfiltered thoughts. Like what was he really thinking after their steamy night together, on their date, when he was outwardly being so mature about letting her meet up with Taehyung, etc. But I think you answered some of those questions in this chapter as we saw Namjoon process the aftermath of seeing the kiss, so I perhaps spoke too soon! Also I live for the teaser updates almost as much as I do the new chapters. It sounds like Taehyung is hopefully read to be a bit more mature about things, but we'll have to see, I've been fooled before. I cannot believe we only have one chapter left!!! Hope life is treating you well, Jo! <3 🌴

okay listen i'm gonna put this whole response behind a cut because i'm gonna talk a LOT about my characterization of taehyung and it MIGHT delve kind of into spoiler territory so if you want to wait and read what i have to say after NEXT friday that's totally fair.

SPOILERS PROBABLY HAPPENING BELOW OKAY

"punishment" pls i wish every reader did this lol

okay i have a LOT to say about taehyung. if you got this far and didn't expect me to come back with a "yes, but -" about him.... idk what to tell you because i've been doing this since the drop lol

"instead of trying to explain his feelings, he just got mean" so let's talk about this!!!! because you're right! he got nasty! something i tried to write into this taehyung is that he bites when he's scared, hurt, or embarrassed. and in that moment, when his life-long best friend physically pushes him away and curses at him and MEANS it, he's suddenly all three of those at once. like people aren't perfect, and i meant for this taehyung to be very not perfect. but it's real, right? i know people like this. they aren't bad people but they have to work on themselves to fight that instinct! and it's kind of a callback to the chapter when the guys were like "what if she moves on from you" and he was - scared, embarrassed to be called out, and he reacted this way too.

a step sideways for a second - let's examine what he's SAYING though!!!!!!! she told him "we're the same as we've always been". what does that actually mean? i'm still in love with you? i'm still following you around in hope that you'll want me? you're still my whole wide world? maybe taehyung didn't say it NICELY but at the end of the day he's RIGHT - she's lying. he's losing her in real time, watching it happen, and she's lying to his face about it! ANYWAY

back to the original thought - if you look again at the scene in the hallway, there's something i want to point out. Taehyung's nasty - to Namjoon. He is! Super nasty! I am not contesting that AT ALL. But - but. The second reader steps into the hallway all that bite vanishes on the spot and he goes straight to pleading with her to hear him out. even after he swallows the fact that he can't talk to her without an audience (the audience that he is FURIOUS at/about, that he sees as the reason he's losing His Person) once he's talking to HER all he does is beg her to talk alone and apologize again! he actually isn't nasty at all to READER in that moment! Only to Joonie!

As for "proof that the kiss wasn't..." I'm not gonna speak to that part - his motivation - until after next chapter. i promise it will be addressed IN FULL.

listen so we're far enough in the story that i can say this. it was VERY important to me when i wrote this story that the conflict was never between reader and namjoon. once they started shit, they were fine, they were a team, they were gonna handle shit together. in many, many ways, this is really the story of taehyung and reader since that's where the main conflict lies. the story of how their friendship has to navigate this part of their lives that would have been weird and difficult even if it hadn't been namjoon. i almost put tae also on the banner because it is, in my eyes, equally his story - but i didn't want to encourage anyone who thought reader should've picked him lolll.

okay this might be spoilers I guess!!! i just want to say... i don't know that i wrote taehyung a redemption arc? i think i'm leaning to say that i did not? and it's just kind of.... idk in real life not everyone gets redemption redemption? sometimes the best we can do is say 'wow i was wrong for that', apologize, and try to make little babystep changes in our life to try and do better going forward? and that doesn't feel like a ~redemption arc~ necessarily but maybe that's the best we can do sometimes? NOT THAT I'M SAYING THAT'S WHAT WILL HAPPEN FOR TAE >_>

I ALSO CAN'T BELIEVE THERE'S ONLY ONE LEFT asjfhkasfhajkfh i'm UPSET

thank you so so much for coming along this craziness with me, i absolutely live to hear your thoughts, and i'm sorry i am Like This about defending taehyung lmfaoooo

hope you've been well!!!! <3

[bqstqnbruin]

Priceless

Ok so here I am somehow with a second fic in a matter of, what, two ish days? Anyway, this is one that I wrote and posted last year but I reread it and it sucked so I took it down and rewrote it. Hope you like it!

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: none? swearing? Typos for sure.

_______________

You loved him with your whole heart; there was nothing that you wouldn’t do for him, and you knew that he felt the same about you. At least, that’s what you used to believe.

Ever the one for dramatics, a three am alarm was what made you question not only your whole relationship but your whole existence. The witching hour was an ungodly time to be waking up and getting ready, no matter what the reason was. Even when it involved flying off to Europe for a destination wedding that involved Jake’s entire team.

“Babe?” you call to him, the shower just turning off. He pokes his head out, hair wet, droplets of water rolling down his face as he waited for you to answer, “We’re going to have time to stop at a Dunkin’, right?” you whine, doing everything in your power to not pass out then and there instead of finishing your packing.

“Maybe?” he says, ducking back into the bathroom before coming out with just a towel on, hanging on his waist. If you weren’t so exhausted, the things you could be doing right now, your mind wanders as he continues talking, “We have to get through TSA and I don’t think they would allow you to bring that through security, would they?”

“Fucking hell,” you mutter to yourself, throwing the last of what you needed into your suitcase, trying to find anything of Jake’s lying around that you knew he would forget. “What if I finish it in the car before we go through security?” you beg, hoping he’ll cave.

“Y/N,” he sings, “then you’re going to have to use the bathroom a million times and it’s going to be my fault.”

“Do I have to be pleasant before I get coffee in me?”

You hear him laugh from the bathroom as you lean back on the bed and close your eyes. “You wouldn’t be you if you were pleasant before your coffee, babe.” You do everything in your power to try to stay awake while he gets ready, him saying random things as he runs around getting dressed, you murmuring weak responses in return. “Hey, come on, sleepyhead,” he says, pulling you off the bed, “We’ve gotta get to Logan.”

You drive there in silence, praying for the moment you get coffee in you as you still struggle to stay awake while Jake keeps talking. The car stops, Jake pulling down the window when you finally open your eyes, seeing that you were sitting in the drive-thru line at Dunkin. “God, I love you,” you say, leaning over and kissing his cheek, a smile covering his face.

“Who’s paying, you or me?” he asks, not letting you answer due to the voice of the cashier inside coming through the speaker to take your order. Two small coffees, enough to hold you over for the drive to the airport before you get more coffee once you’re through the gate. He looks at you as you stare down at your phone, having to check your bank account to see if you even had the money to begin with. “I’ll pay for both,” he says, a calm tone covering her voice.

Money for you was tight. You had never really struggled to pay your bills and your share of the utilities, but you definitely didn’t have the amount of extra cash that Jake did because of the seemingly never-ending student loan payments you were making. “I’m sorry,” you say, taking the coffee from him so he can get to driving again. You hated having the money conversation; no matter who you talked to, they always seemed to bring up the fact that your NHL player boyfriend made more money in a single season than you had seen in your entire life. It always left things awkward, as the implication of you being a gold digger hung in the air between you and the person you were having a conversation with. “I can probably transfer some money from my savings for extra stuff, but I had really only planned on buying a few meals and a few other trinkets for my family,” you admit, staring at the low number that showed in your checking account.

“Hey,” he says, resting his hand on your thigh, not taking his eyes off the road, “It’s fine. Anything you want, I’ll pay for it.” You smile at him, hoping he couldn’t tell from the corner of his eye that it wasn’t sincere. That was another thing you hated: other people covering for you. You grew up being taught that if you didn’t have money for it, you either didn’t pay for it until you had the money yourself, or you forewent it entirely. Having to worry about paying someone back was unnecessary stress in your life. Or, if they were like Jake, then they would insist it was their treat, not taking the money you owed them no matter how much it was.

You look out the window, the empty, tree-lined highway lighting up as the sun rose over it, the sky turning from the dark purple night to a brilliant orange right in front of you. You had never been one to wake up for the sunrise, taking in the sight for what was probably the first time in your life. “It’s so beautiful,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this calm and quiet before.”

“I’ve seen one thing more beautiful than this,” he says, a huge smile on his face.

“What?” you ask, bracing him for the cheesy comment you knew he was going to make.

“You,” he says, proudly, trying to find your hand without looking away from the road, bringing it to his lips before connecting his back to the wheel.

“God,” you moan, both of you laughing, “That was so corny.”

“Well, they call me Chef JD, gotta have some corn sometimes,” he says, resulting in you screaming.

“I will in fact leave you if you say something like that again,” you tell him.

“Yeah? Where would you live, then?” he teases, immediately regretting his words, “Fuck, sorry.”

“I’d figure something out,” you tell him, trying to match his teasing tone so that he doesn’t think you took it the way you did. The rest of the ride to the airport is in silence, you both finishing your coffee as you pull up, seeing some of the guys getting their stuff out of their car at the same time. “Hey, aren’t international flights normally at night?” you ask Jake, Charlie, and Matt coming over to help you guys get your bags.

“Bergy booked the flight for all of us and we don’t question him,” Charlie says, pulling Jake away from you, the two of them wandering into the airport with Kylie trying to keep up with her own boyfriend

“It should be more concerning to all of you that he has to act like your father,” you say to Matt, walking with him to security. Besides Jake, you were closest to Matt. He adopted you as a pseudo younger sister, the one who knew just as much, if not more about you than your boyfriend.

Matt shrugs, watching Charlie and Jake mess around with each other in line in front of you, “It just kind of happened that way. None of us ever questioned it, like Chuck said.” The two of you watch the boys, bickering about something as they seemingly all forget their girls were standing right around them. You and Matt fall into a mundane conversation, watching Jake and Charlie together as they pass through security. The five of you gather your things, trying to find which way your gate was so you could meet the rest of the guys before boarding the flight.

Matt figured out that you were supposed to head to the left, so naturally, Jake and Charlie veered right, leaving you and Kylie with all their stuff to lug to the gate. “Where are they going?” you ask Kylie, dumbfounded as you struggle to carry Jake’s bag along with your own stuff.

“Charlie mentioned he was hungry on the way here, so I’m just hoping that’s where they’re going,” she mutters, “Dealing with all of them together is like herding cats,” clearly as cranky as you were earlier that morning as you try to stifle your laughter. Just like you, Kylie was not a person to interact with before she had caffeine in her, one of the reasons the two of you got along so well.

You get to the gate, Jake and Charlie nowhere to be seen even though you were suddenly surrounded by the rest of the Bruins roster. From the looks of the waiting area, the flight was mostly the guys and their families, and thankfully so: you would hate to be on a plane with the Bruins organization if you were outside the organization itself. You loved the boys, but god, they were loud and annoying sometimes. Everyone else on the plane would definitely hate the group, but they didn’t care. The city was fueled by the hate of everyone who wasn’t them.

Jake and Charlie finally reappear, more coffee and now food in hand. Jake hands you what he got you as you reposition yourself so you’re sitting cross-legged on the seat, slightly uncomfortable due to how scrunched up you were so you could face him. You lean over, kissing his cheek before you start eating

He turns his head to smile at you as you catch him off guard and kiss him again. “What’s this for?”

“I don’t tell you enough that I appreciate you,” you say to him, taking a bite of the breakfast sandwich he got you.

Jake smiles at you, turning himself so he faces you. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, gently pulling you towards him so he can kiss your forehead, mumbling something you can’t quite make out against your skin. Charlie starts chirping Jake over something, resulting in him leaving you to go argue with his teammates. You can’t help but smile as you watch Jake and his teammates. You knew he loved them, just like they loved him.

“You didn’t have coffee in you when I was talking to you before and you were actually pleasant?” Matt plops down next to you, taking your attention away from Jake.

You roll your eyes at him, even though you knew he was right, “Shut up, Gryz. Jake and I stopped for coffee on the way here. This is round two,” you say, raising the cup to him. The two of you watch some of the younger guys aggregate around Jake and Charlie, Jake telling them some story while they hang onto every word of his, laughing their heads off with every sentence. “God, he loves you guys.”

“Yeah, but you know he loves you more,” Matt says, nudging your shoulder.

“I think he loves Oreos more than he loves me sometimes,” you joke, knowing that it’s not true. Hoping that it’s not true, more like it.

“Trust me, JD loves three things in this order: you, hockey, then Oreos. He loves you more than he loves hockey. Nothing you can do will change that.”

You both laugh, the announcement for your flight to board interrupting the noise the rest of the guys were making. Jake rushes over to your side, picking up the bags both of you were planning on bringing onto the plan, practically pushing Matt out of the way. He kisses you on the cheek, a soft smile on his face.

“What?” you ask him, linking your arm in his.

“I love you,” he says, getting in line behind some of the guys.

“I love you, too,” you say, leaning your head against his arm.

“Ready for seven hours on a plane with these fools?” Jake asks, using his other arm to gesture to the rest of his teammates.

“I’m only ready because you’re with me,” you say to him in a sing-songy voice.

“Woah! So you can be corny, but I can’t?” he jokes, sending you two into a flirty bickering match as you board the plane with everyone. You get settled into your seats, resting your head on his shoulder to hopefully fall back to sleep despite the amount of caffeine coursing through your veins. You can hear the guys talking around you, probably annoying the rest of the passengers on the flight more than they intended.

You end up in that half awake-half asleep state while on his shoulder, the sounds of the rest of the guys fading in and out as you did. You could feel Jake occasionally kissing the top of your head, resting his on yours in an effort to go to sleep like you were. Both of you were woken up by the sound of the flight attendant coming through with food, the long flight warranting a hot meal, you and Jake being handed something different than the rest of the people around you.

“What is it?” you whisper to him once the flight attendant has passed by you.

“None of the free meals looked good so I got us something different,” he says, taking a bite of what looked like chicken covered in some sort of sauce.

“We could have just done the free meal so you wouldn’t be paying for me again,” you mumble, a little annoyed that he didn’t even ask when paying for food made things awkward earlier that morning.

You sit there in silence, eating the food that Jake bought you. Honestly, it was airplane food, not something that you had even wanted in the first place but you couldn’t let it go to waste now.

“I think I’m gonna go sit with Charlie,” Jake says, getting up without saying another word once the food is gone, leaving you to sit there by yourself with the other people in the row.

You try to find something to watch on the screen in front of you, only to be interrupted by Matt appearing and Jake’s seat, startling you as you rip out the headphones you had on while the first movie available was starting to play. “Your boy just kicked me out of my seat by sitting on top of me.”

You can’t help but laugh, picturing the other passengers' reactions around then as the grown men that were Jake and his teammates acted like absolute children. “I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that he did that or that fact that I’m not shocked that he did that.” You watch him with Charlie, your smile fading as his grows.

“Hey, what’s up?” Matt asks, pulling your attention away from Jake.

“Same argument that we haven’t really fought over yet.” Matt was the only one on the team that knew about the seemingly never-ending awkwardness that surrounded you and Jake when it came to money. “It’s not getting worse, but it’s more frequent. I’m just worried we’re gonna end up blowing up at each other and losing each other in the process,” you tell him, fixating on the screen in front of you.

You hear him exhale, looking over to see a sad look on his face. A single lock of hair falls down in front of his forehead, moving along with the rest of his head, “Couples fight. I don’t want to tell you that you should have this argument this weekend, but you have to talk about it. And I mean really talk about it, not just the vague undertones you two constantly have dancing around the subject.”

You stare at him, slightly confused at how something like that came out of him, “I don’t like how you said that so eloquently,” you laugh, Matt throwing his head back to join you.

“But you know I’m right,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” you huff, waving him off.

Without another word, he hands you his other earbud, starting a movie on his screen that would hopefully last the rest of the flight. You rest your head on his shoulder to get a better view of the screen, picturing Jake in his place.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you must have at some point because the next thing you know, the movie is over, the plane is about to land, and Matt is trying to get you off his shoulder so he can get back to his seat. “Hey, Y/N,” he whispers, nudging his shoulder gently. “Jake’s coming back,” he says, acting as if he didn’t want to get caught with you asleep next to him.

“Hi,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes as he plops back down in his seat, him kissing your cheek as you now struggle to stay awake. “It’s like, the middle of the night now, isn’t it?” you ask him, having no idea the time difference between Boston and where you were.

“I think it’s like 10 pm. I didn’t realize I was dating an old woman,” he jokes, pulling a laugh from you.

“You wear me out, babe,” you say, everyone getting up from their seats, the boys making more noise than anyone on the plane as people anxiously waited to get off.

“And you keep me young,” he says, giving you a quick peck before handing you your bag.

You hear someone groan behind you, turning to see Matt standing there already waiting for the two of you to move out of his way. “I’m not going to hang out with you if you’re like this the entire trip” he teases.

You can’t help but scoff, playing into the teasing nature of his comment. “Sorry, bubs, you’re the only one who didn’t bring a date so that makes you our third wheel.”

“I could third wheel any of the guys here and you know that,” he tries to defend himself as Jake grabs your hand and starts to pull you off the plane.

“That’s a weird thing to brag about,” you tell him, the three of you walking in a line to go get your bags, you and Matt carrying a conversation while Jake stands off to the side, not paying attention to the movement of the unfamiliar airport around him.

Everyone waits outside for whatever transportation Patrice had arranged to the hotel, still unsure how he swung any of the details he did. The guys had way too much energy considering how many hours they spent cooped up on a plane. You were exhausted, the coffee practically gone from your system as you tried to convince Jake to just go back to the hotel room with you and spend the night in. “Please?” you beg him, draping yourself on his arm as he waited to get your room keys.

“But the guys want to explore the city,” he whines, jutting his lip out to you.

“I have no more coffee in me,” you whine back. He pouts at you, contemplating whether or not it’s worth it to try to convince you to stay in or go explore with the guys. “I will do anything you want.”

He raises his eyebrows, pulling you close to him, “Anything?” he asks, forgetting the guys surrounding you as he kisses you, his grip around your waist tightening as his teammates start teasing the two of you.

“Hey, JD! Save that for the bedroom!” Matt chirps, your face turning bright red at his words.

“Ah, fuck off and let me love her,” he says, his forehead against yours. “I think I like the sound of the bedroom.”

You ignore the chirps from the boys as he kisses you again, the heat in your cheeks not subsiding until the two of you get to your room. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out with the guys? Apparently, the nightlife is supposed to be awesome in the city,” Jake says, flopping down on the bed. You had been there all of two seconds, and he was already starfished on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.

You sigh, sitting down next to him. “I told you I don’t want to go out,” you repeat, a little more annoyed than you intended to sound. “I’m tired, and when we go out, we’re going to end up spending more money and-” you stop, cutting yourself off as Jake sits up.

“Hey,” he says, taking your hands in his, “I told you I would pay for you. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is, though. To me it is. I don’t need you to keep paying for me for everything. I don’t want you to.”

“What’s the big deal?”

Were you really about to have the fight you and Matt talked about on the plane in your hotel room? “Don’t you get it? You have so much money while I’m constantly struggling to make ends meet because of fucking loans. Do you know what it’s like to be a grown adult and live off someone else's money, the constant looks from people when I talk about you that say they think I’m just dating you for your money? That unless you’re home and go grocery shopping for us, I have to choose between food and gas until you get back? All I am is a fucking burden.”

“What, you think I don’t know about all of that? Why do you think I pay for you? So you don’t have to worry about food and gas,” he says, getting up.

“And I hate that you do that!” you snap, “That you feel like you have to. It’s like a slap in the face that I can never pay for anything and you have to pay for everything.”

“So what do you want me to do? Stand by and watch you struggle when I have the means to help you?” The volume of his voice matched yours, hearing doors in the hallway opening and closing, praying that it wasn’t other guests trying to figure out what room the screaming match was coming from.

“I don’t mind if you help out once in a while when I really need it but it’s stuff like the second round of Dunkin’ when I could barely get the first, the meal on the airplane when they give out free ones, or when you keep asking to go out, knowing that we’re going to spend money after I told you no.” Jake rolls his eyes, pushing past you and out the door. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going out with the guys. You want something, you can get it yourself, see if I care,” he hisses, leaving you standing there with the door propped open by your foot, watching him walk away. Matt gets off the elevator when he tries to get on, saying something you can’t make out when the elevator door closes.

“What the hell happened?” Matt asks, looking between you and the elevator.

You shake your head, trying to hold back the tears that were forming, knowing that there were other people in the hallway that had just witnessed the end of whatever that was. “Remember the fight you said we would have? We just had it,” you tell him, flopping down on your bed with your hands over your face. You let out a long groan, feeling the weight of Matt’s body sink the corner of the mattress down. You knew he was giving you that sympathetic look that was going to make you more upset, feeding into your already upset nature just that much more.

“What happened?” Matt repeats.

“We just finally snapped. God, of all places to have a stupid fight like this, we have at the night before your teammate is supposed to get married. I mean, fuck, we’re in Barcelona, for god's sake and you and I are here watching me mope instead of exploring like we should be.”

“Well, who says we can’t?”

“My bank account.”

Matt pries your hands off your face, forcing you to sit up despite you clearly not wanting to. “There’s so much to do in Barcelona at night that doesn’t involve spending money. We can find the guys no problem, probably doing something free.”

“And how do you expect we do that?” you ask him as he tries to drag you off the bed, grabbing the room key on the way out the door.

Matt waves his phone in the air, a smug look on his face. “I have the location of everyone on the team, past and present, on Find My Friends.”

You hesitate for a minute, your wallet and bag sitting right there by the door for you to grab to go join your boyfriend and his teammates and try to enjoy the night despite the fight you just had. “Matt,” you try to protest, your eyes darting back and forth between him and your bag. You didn’t want to worry about Jake on the night out, but you knew you couldn’t be spending a lot of money. You had been out with the guys too many times before when Jake promised they wouldn’t be big spenders, only to go home and have to worry about how you were going to survive to the next paycheck.

“If you want anything then I’ll pay for it and you pay me back with food or something. Y/N, Jake is wandering Barcelona with Charlie right now, probably just as upset as you are,” he tries to reason with you. “There’s no point in sitting here alone in your hotel room when you’re in a city that you’ve been talking about visiting for as long as I’ve known you.”

You let out a groan, knowing that he was right. “I can’t stand you,” you mumble, grabbing your bag and heading out the door with him.

Matt had his phone pulled out, trying to navigate the city based on a little dot that showed your boyfriend’s location. You had no idea where you were going, and, to be honest, you weren’t sure that Matt had any idea either. You had never been in a situation where the two of you had to wander through unfamiliar territory before, but something told you it was going to be a while before he figured out how to get to the rest of the guys.

“Matt, this is useless. We’ve been walking around for over an hour already,” you tell him, sitting down on the bench that was just off the path you had been taking.

“It hasn’t been an hour, you’re being dramatic.”

Matt sits down next to you as you pull out your phone. “We left the room at 10 pm. It’s 11. That’s an hour,” you snap at him, clearly hating that you can’t find them. “I just want to see Jake,” you mutter.

“Have either of you calmed down enough to have an actual conversation with each other? You know, not a screaming match?” Matt asks you, watching the small dots that represented his teammates move around his phone screen. “If you want to try to figure out your way around here, when neither of us speaks the language to ask for directions, we can. If not, we go back to the hotel.”

You stare at his phone, seeing JD, CM, TF, two JS’s, and a DP altogether, somewhere off the road where neither of you were able to figure out how to get to them. You shake your head, thinking about Matt’s words: you weren’t sure you were cooled off enough to talk to Jake rationally, and you had a feeling he was still the same. “Let’s just find our way back to the hotel,” you tell him, getting up off the bench.

You look at Matt, the look of sympathy covering his face as he follows you back the way you came. You probably could have easily found Jake and the rest of the guys, working out whatever the hell you needed to before the wedding tomorrow. If you couldn’t work it out, what did that mean for your future, though? If you didn’t live with Jake, you would be struggling way more than you were now, probably living paycheck to paycheck without the luxury of everything Jake did for you.

Were you wrong to be mad that he was trying to help?

The two of you get back to the hotel, the empty lobby eerily echoing with your footsteps on the marble floor. You hadn’t even noticed it before, the hotel you were staying at was probably the nicest one you had ever set foot in. You were tempted to sit on one of the chairs in the lobby, wait there for Jake and the rest of the guys to come back despite the fact that they would probably be drunk off their asses when you saw them.

Matt puts his hand on your arm, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Do you want to stay down here and wait?” he asks you, reading your mind, “Or, do you want to go back to either your room or mine?”

“I don’t want to impose,” you try to protest.

“So, you’d rather go back to an empty room and wallow alone instead of sitting on my bed, eating ice cream, and watching a movie,” he tempts you, raising his eyebrows with his offer.

“I don’t want ice cream.”

Matt scrunches his nose, letting out a laugh. “I never said the ice cream was for you. It’s summer, I can cheat on the nutrition plans a little more right now.”

He manages to pull a laugh from you, the two of you heading up to his room. You plopped yourself on his bed, your hands behind your head while you couldn’t take your mind off Jake. You really didn’t want him to be as miserable as you felt, but part of you also did want that. Was that bad?

You knew you had to set boundaries. You knew you couldn’t live without him, both financially and in life in general.

“You know,” Matt says, pulling you out of your thoughts yet again, “The guys are back here at the hotel. If you wanted to go back to your room, I’m sure you could talk to him now.”

You roll over, your back facing Matt. “I don’t think he would want to talk to me.”

Matt sighs, lying down next to you and staring up at the ceiling. “Like I told you in Boston, Jake loves you more than anything. If I know anything about him, he’s just as miserable as you are, probably back in your room panicking about where you are.”

You turn to him, narrowing your eyes. “This is your way of trying to get me out of here before the ice cream comes and you feel like you have to share with me, isn’t it?”

You both laugh, sitting up to get ready to go. “Oh, of course.”

You head out, opening the door, caught off guard by who was standing there. “Jake?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet. “I thought you would be here.” You nod, both of you standing there in an awkward silence as you held the door to Matt’s room open. You didn’t know if you should speak first or wait for Jake to do it, and apparently, he felt the same.

“As much as I love just staring at you two,” Matt breaks the silence. “Would you be able to do this with my door closed? You can be in here, but,” his voice trails off. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear whatever it was you were about to talk about even though he already knew.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell him, letting his room door close behind you as Jake took your hand in his, leading you down the hall to your room.

You don’t say anything until you get into your room, both of you sitting at the foot of the bed.

“I’m sorry I got mad,” he says, his hand still in yours but unable to look at you.

“I’m sorry I got mad,” you repeat, for lack of better words to say. “We need boundaries. I get that you want to pay for things, but I need you to ask me before you do, especially if it’s something we don’t necessarily need.”

“Ok,” he draws out, trying to figure out how to frame his words. “Would you be ok with asking me for help when you need it? You know I can help you, and it kills me seeing you struggle when I have the means to make this stop.”

“I just want you to ask.”

He smiles at you, raising his hand to cup your face. “I will,” he says, his lips finding yours for a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You spend the rest of the night together, trying to figure out boundaries of what and when Jake can lend you money, what should be paid back, what he doesn’t want back, everything. It was the conversation you should have had years ago, yet never did.

The next morning, you get ready for his teammate's wedding, slipping on the dress, your back towards Jake while he put on his suit. “Can you zip me up?” you ask him while he adjusted his sleeves.

He comes up behind you, his fingers holding the small zipper and slowly pulling it up your back. Jake wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in front of the mirror hung on the wall of the room, his head nestled on your shoulder. “I can’t wait until we get married.”

You laugh, craning your neck to kiss the side of his head. “That’ll be an expensive day, won’t it,” you joke.

“Yeah, maybe. But spending the rest of my life with the girl I love? That’s priceless.”

[astral-the-space-traveler]

After replaying the BioShock collection on the Switch I thought I'd share my thoughts on the games now that I've taken a new look at the games after a couple years. Most of my thoughts revolve around Infinite but I had a bit to say about all three. Spoilers ahead of course.

BioShock: 15 years later this is still a fascinating story of free will and a nice critique of Objectivism. Rapture is an incredible setting to go back to and Andrew Ryan is a fascinating villain and Fontaine is just hateable enough to like. Gameplay is pretty clunky at points but overall it's still pretty good. Plasmids are fun and the weapons are acceptable (if a little bit underwhelming in the sound department).

BioShock 2: If I'm being honest I enjoyed this one quite a than the first one. They really upgraded the combat and plasmids, making them feel much more punchy. Rapture is as beautiful as ever and the story is actually quite good for being a direct sequel from a different studio. Sofia Lamb and co. are passable antagonists and Eleanor Lamb is pretty cool even if I wish she played a bigger role overall.

BioShock 2 - Minerva's Den: Short and Sweet with an incredible twist. Charles Milton Porter is a really interesting character overall and the plot is really interesting with the THINKER and Reed Whal going crazy. Gameplay wise... it's more BioShock 2 with some extra cool shit.

BioShock Infinite: This is the one that I've thought the most about over the years and even now going back to it, especially since this is one of my favorite games of all time and it had a big personal impact in my life. However I can't deny how much my thoughts have changed over time. The story as a whole is interesting but there's so much that... just doesn't work. The in your face critique of American exceptionalism and the awful shit that went down during that time is done fairly well but that kindly falls to pieces when the game veers off into the multiverse angle and especially when the Vox Populi enter the equation. The plot has more holes than a block of swiss cheese and...yeah it's hard to ignore the unfortunate implications that the game makes with Daisy, the Vox and the angle they chose with their revolution. Also Booker did deserve to die and I stand by that.

As for the positives, there's actually quite a lot (even if I just skewed the plot with a rusty pitchfork). Elizabeth is the standout character by far and is one of my favorite video game characters of all time. Her powers help a lot in combat and are very visually satisfying even if they do shoot the plot in the leg. It makes me so damn sad to see what happens to her but I suppose there really wasn't much room for a (explicitly stated) happy ending. The combat is pretty fantastic going back to it, though I do understand a lot of people's dislike of the two gun system. I really loved how visceral the combat is. Heads exploding left and right and vigors that feel as painful as they are flashy. Columbia is both beautiful and haunting as a setting. I actually like it a little bit more than Rapture (sunlight is a major plus for me). The Lutece twins are really fun as characters even though I can't help but realize they're the true villains here.

Comstock is...okay I guess. He's basically just your typical cult leader villain but with a bit more flair with the multiverse shenanigans. Songbird looks threatening and there's interesting lore around it but ultimately it just kinda falls flat when he just...drowns. The ending is mind-melting in both senses. Like it's nice to finally get answers to all the questions you have throughout the game but it really doesn't make much sense when you sit down and think about the events that go down.

Overall a very good game with some pretty major flaws.

BioShock Infinite - Burial at Sea: No. Bad. I'm not even going to dignify it with a lengthy rant. It's not even canon in my eyes. Ken Levine really fucked up.

[osmosisdreams]

It was almost unfair, how easily he could access whatever he wanted in Levi's memories... and how Levi could know nothing Eren didn't tell him. How he couldn't see it on Eren's blank, expressionless face how tight his chest got looking straight at Levi with full attention, seeing his face bandaged. Seeing that the man had lost two fingers. Seeing the person he admired for years in this state. This was not at all how Eren would have ever expected to see him the first day he spotted Levi in the crowd of returning scouts. Just a starry eyed boy, seeing humanity's strongest in a light and glory that Levi himself may never have seen himself in.

"Kind of, yeah. We're in the Paths. Another... sort of dimension. Nobody else is here with us though. I can decide who comes here and when." Not that it wasn't fucked up. It was so fucked up, in fact, that it probably made Eren's mentality a thousand times worse than it already had been. The ability to manipulate the past and the confusion of time existing all at once could possibly mean that right now, right at this moment, he was just enlisting into the Scouts. It could also mean he was already dead and this was just the past. Time didn't make sense anymore.

Really, this power wasn't even supposed to be his. Ymir had given it to him when she sided with him over Zeke - who, in fact, Eren had just made the connection to with Levi's injuries. Levi had been around anyone else capable of that. The tightness he felt in his chest kept in a boiling rage that remained dutifully out of sight. He had succeeded in thwarting Zeke's plans, but he hadn't been quick enough. He hadn't been able to meet up with Zeke without Levi getting hurt.

And that... wasn't his choice. So no. All of this probably wasn't his choice. It wasn't, right? No, it wasn't. He had tried to stop the Rumbling - more times than he could even recount now. Every waking moment had been dedicated to stopping it since he realized he was just a boulder pushed along by Ymir. A boulder heading down its path and crushing whatever was in its way. A boulder that could veer off to the side but would inevitably still crash into the same target it would have hit if it hadn't veered off anywhere anyway.

What he answered, he answered with eyes facing in a direction away from Levi. There was too much of a story eyes could tell, and Levi could and probably would catch on quick. "What I wanted... wasn't this. Not specifically this. If we couldn't find another answer except war with the rest of the world, ideally we would wipe out their military as needed... and then their governments spreading the lies and filth about Paradis' people. Maybe there wasn't a way to do that, or if there was the rest of the world would still hate us, and that's why... I was always led back to this. Why no matter what I did, the future I kept seeing was still this."

Maybe his efforts and attempts were just too weak. Unusable. It made sense though. If they wiped out the military and governments of their enemies, all the ordinary people would still hate them. Revile them. See them as demons the way they already do. See them as unjust, violence obsessed monsters.

In that way, realistically, what other way could they have prevented the people on Paradis from being mercilessly slaughtered? The rest of the world, led by Marley, would not have stopped until not a single native human life form could be found on the whole island. This wasn't what Eren wanted, but it was the only answer left - and the only answer Ymir seemed to let him reach. Maybe she was right and there was no other way. Maybe to protect all their own innocents, he did have to slaughter all of their innocents. Still though, to scorch the earth itself? Punish life itself for humanity's idiocy?

Still though - why him? Why did she have to pick him to do this?

Unintentionally or not, Levi's disdain for the locale was a good distraction. It was just set dressing anyway in this place, when they could go anywhere within either of their memories. With the ability to warp the land itself around them here, they could forgo the sand. "Anyway, I'll get rid of the sand... but anywhere you want to go, as long as one of us ever experienced it, we can go to... in a sense."

The sand and stars distorted, reshaping into the old fort they stayed at for a month, before they had found out Annie was the Female Titan. They were both there in front of themselves - Levi going over very detailed and specific cleanliness methods to an Eren nearly five years younger than the one Levi found himself here with. Cleanliness methods, mind him, that Eren had adopted nearly religiously by the time the 104th had become Levi's newest squad.

All of those things were so simple. Everything back then, at least before Annie, had been so easy to digest. He was already being pulled along by Ymir's current, and perhaps that ignorance was truly bliss. At least, as far as he knew, that month was as close to bliss as he had known in a long time at that particular point.

"If I could have any choice... I would go back to these days. If I could throw it all away and go back, I probably would. I don't think I could change anything, and we would probably still end up back here. Maybe no matter how many times I went back, I would just relive the exact same things, over and over. I wonder if that would be torture? If I had to live through all the good things again that came with the bad, but always be able to relive the good things... Could that possibly be any worse than this? If I was reliving times before my titan powers were properly awakened... would that be cruel to live through again and again, or would it be a relief to never have to know anything? Always going back and never completing the Rumbling. Stopping it all right here and just... going back, forever. Infinitely, I guess... because time couldn't end if it only kept going backwards. Could that really... be worse than this?"

How the sky looked like, the infinity of it and its beauty, had always been a dream he didn't believe would ever come true — getting to witness such magnificent sights. And yet, Levi showed no interest in the starry sky above their heads. For someone who had been fighting for his entire life, he didn't find comfort in the quietness this place offered, a break from the nightmare they had found themselves in. A shadow of himself he ended up being, his dedication on living having vanished. Fire still burned on his eyes, but there was very little of him that hadn't been burnt out yet.

One word dominated his mind only, having robbed his life of any other meaning: revenge. To fulfill the vow he made to Erwin. His last order, a promise that sent hundreds of soldiers to their deaths. It had been his choice, the weight of it too much to bear — he had reached his breaking point, cracks having made their appearance. How much longer, would he have to wait to kill him? Could it be, Erwin had cursed him that day? As if his heart had stopped beating, as if the world had lost its colors. His vision clouded, a fog to make their world an even darker place to live in. He couldn't any longer see the light. Blind he'd wander, waiting for when he'd kill him — for when he'd set them free. Set himself free.

Head hung low, sitting cross-legged, out of strength, weak and vulnerable before the enemy. He couldn't stand, and he couldn't cast his eyes on him. Not yet, not until he heard his voice first, not until he recognized a part of the boy he had once believed to be humanity's hope. Whose eyes weren't the same empty as the last time he had seen him back on that airship. Still human, not the monster they described him to be from the start.

He was the one in charge to end his life if he ever lost control. Maybe he should have, the moment his eyes lost light, many years before he left Paradis. Yet he couldn't, not really. Not only because of the sorry state he was in, but because part of him, his gut instinct, didn't believe it was all Eren's fault. He was responsible for his life, and for how he chose to lead it. The blood Eren had spilled, was on his hands as well. Maybe he truly had been an untamable beast from the start. Maybe Levi had made the wrong choice, saving his life many years ago. Yet he didn't regret offering himself on the court on that day. He didn't regret the years they spent together under the same roof. The outcome had always been unknown, and all he could was trust his judgement at a certain time.

Otherwise he'd go insane. Same way the one before him had.

One more time. He planned this to be the last time they saw each other. That could be true, but the Captain refused to believe that. For he was supposed to have died as well, yet he sat before him, still fighting to fulfill his duty, still fighting to give all their sacrifices meaning. Even in this useless body, when all hope was lost. ❝ We must be inside my head. Right? ❞ Being an Ackerman, meant there should be limits to the control Eren had over him. Not that he gave a damn. Levi had long come to terms with freedom only being an illusion. They all had shackles to bind them, after all. Shackles they couldn't break. ❝ That's fucked up. ❞

Why care speak to him, of all people? Why care about what he thought? They hadn't had a proper conversation in a long time, having found themselves on opposite sides, Eren having chosen with Zeke ( or wasn't that the case? ) and Levi having now joined forces with Marley, doing everything within his power to get closer to killing the bastard who took everything from him. ❝ Is all of this your choice? ❞ The choice he regretted the least? Was causing such chaos and destruction truly his wish? Was it advancing forward, disregarding the feelings of everyone who ever cared for him ( not him, his friends', those who truly mattered to Eren )?

❝ I hate sand. ❞ It'd get all over his clothes, and it was difficult to clean after. But that wasn't the real meaning behind his words. Anger, frustration, heartache all masked as his obsession for cleanliness, his voice holding an unfamiliar vulnerability, an attempt to hide his true feelings, even towards the end — frustration for the weakened state he was in when they needed him the most, anger for everything they've lost and how much of themselves they had to give up, and heartache for being betrayed from someone he had once believed to carry light, for having lost him.

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 5

Catch up here >> AHBS Masterlist

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Chapter 5 - With You

When things go wrong I pretend that the past isn't real

Now I'm trapped in this memory

And I'm left in the wake of the mistake, slow to react

So even though you're close to me

You're still so distant and I can't bring you back

"What the fuck is that?"

He was sitting at the breakfast table doing homework, after he had completed his chores when his aunt and Perrington had walked through the front door. Wearing one of the only t-shirts he owned and a pair of shorts, he sighed before looking up at his aunt.

"What is what?" he said, running his hand through his hair. Though, he knew what she was talking about. Why hadn't he kept his hoodie on? Not that that would have helped, the drawings covered his hand too.

She grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled on it. Lorcan let out a hiss. "What bullshit is all over your cast! That cost good money-" she froze. Understanding dawned on her face, eyebrows shooting up. "Oh. Did you find some people to pity you?" Her words dripped with poison. "You know you're worthless, right? No one could ever love you. You are a bastard born, half breed. Your own mother deserted you!"

"She died!" Lorcan yelled. That was too far and she knew it, but she didn’t stop there.

"She killed herself to get away from you, you ugly half-breed."

Lorcan never wanted to believe that. Never. Not that he was an ugly biracial kid, but that his mother killed herself. Why would she want to kill herself when she had him? Or maybe it was his fault. Maybe he drove her crazy enough to take her own life. Maybe...

Maeve just laughed smugly, cutting off Lorcan’s thoughts as she walked down the hall to her room and came back with a bottle of what looked like alcohol and a towel.

"Arm." He reluctantly held his casted arm out to her as she sat in the chair next to him. She started cleaning the metallic ink away. She wasn't gentle. He clenched his jaw and focused on his breathing.

Lorcan had to admit it was a good plan to get the people who were starting to befriend him, to turn their backs instead. Yet another way to break him down. They weren’t friends anyway, why would they care that their mark on him was gone.

The whole time Maeve was scrubbing his arm, Lorcan couldn't stop thinking about how he wasn't good enough for anyone. Not for his mother and definitely not Rowan. He didn't deserve the sparkle that twinkled in those green eyes when they looked at him. Why would Rowan even look at him like that? He was an ugly, bastard born half-breed after all. Too skinny, awkwardly tall, dark olive skin, black eyes.

His vision was blurry from the tears he wouldn't let fall. He couldn't let his aunt see his weakness.

"There," Maeve cooed. "All better." She looked at him with a sick sense of joviality. "Now go to your room." The way Maeve's voice went from saccharin to steel nearly gave Lorcan whiplash. He quickly went to his room after gathering his things and gently closed the door.

Lorcan closed his eyes and tears leaked out. He wiped them away. Why was he so emotional about this? He never got this emotional about anything. Fuck, he hated Orynth.

His cast was a mess now. Some of the designs were smeared beyond recognition, others completely gone. Maeve destroyed it, like she destroys everything. Elide's trees, gone. Rowan's line doodle was smudged into a big blob, but the 'Ro' of Rowan was still faintly visible. Somehow, that made Lorcan feel worse. Why were there so many emotions he didn’t know the names of when Rowan flitted through his mind?

He dug into his sleeping bag, grabbed his journal, pulled a razor blade out of the spine, and went to the bathroom with his pajamas and razor blade. Lorcan's thoughts were a jumble of negativity, he couldn't sort through them so he just pressed the blade to his forearm, dragging through other scars, deeper than he usually did. He grit his teeth through the pain. Lorcan deserved it. He was an unloved, unwanted mixed race bastard. And he was way too fucking emotional.

After letting his blood drip in the sink until he started getting a little lightheaded, he cleaned himself up, and then changed. His torso still covered in an ever changing modern art painting. He thought that maybe Jackson Pollock would be proud to have a painting that looked like his bruises. Lorcan just huffed a laugh at his sick humor.

Back in his room, he wrote in his journal, recording the worst beating of his life and the following days. Including how stupid he was today, to let Elide's smile cause him such grief once his aunt saw the product of his stupidity.

++++

"Mom, he has a cast!" Rowan was so exasperated. He threw his arms in the air.

Rowan's mom knew he was concerned. He had told her about the bruises he saw on the black haired boy's neck.

After dinner, Rowan went up to his room, pulled out his laptop and decided to video call with the group. He just wanted to think of something besides the pain that filled those onyx eyes that were staring at him throughout lunch.

His friend's only helped a little. They were mostly talking about their homework. Elide read one of her new stories for creative writing. Rowan wanted to ask her if she had read any of Lorcan's work, but he didn't feel comfortable asking in front of everyone. So, he didn't.

---

Lorcan woke up at 5am. He checked the gauze on his arm, it hurt. There was blood staining the gauze. I guess that's what happens when you cut deeper. After redoing his bandage and making sure his blade was secured in the spine of his journal, he threw said journal in his newly repaired backpack that broke last night after he was trying to put his schoolwork away. For some reason, he just didn't feel like his journal was safe being left in the apartment anymore.

After dressing and making breakfast for the despicable adults of the house, Lorcan left for school. He left earlier than usual and decided to walk through the park that was between the apartment and the school. Lorcan's hood was down, his man bun was messy, some of his wispy hairs falling in his face, his hands were stuffed in his hoodie pocket. The rain puddles he walked through leaked into his shoes and soaked into the frayed hem of his jeans. Despite having wet feet, it was a nice morning. Except for the undefinable tightness in his chest and the pain in his arm that he tried to ignore.

Lorcan walked one of the winding paths beneath the trees and noticed that some of the greens matched the color of Rowan's eyes. He shouldn't be thinking of those types of things. Never having had a crush before, he didn't understand what and why he kept comparing things back to Rowan or how his stomach would flip when the other boy flitted through his thoughts.

From behind, he heard laughter from multiple people. He switched paths and started walking faster. The laughter was familiar and he had a feeling it was Elide's and Rowan's friend group. Today, he would do his best to avoid them.

++++

Rowan noticed Lorcan ahead of them on the path and then saw him veer away and speed up. When they were about to pass the way Lorcan had gone, he made a decision.

"Hey, I'll meet you all at school." He didn't wait for an answer or reply to the questioning. They knew he was crushing on the new kid.

Rowan was on a mission. Half jogging to catch up with the long strides of his crush, he finally caught up with him.

"Lorcan!"

Gods above, he started going faster.

"Lorcan, please." He stopped suddenly and Rowan jogged a couple paces past him and turned around.

Lorcan's expression was hard, his eyes blank. They were nothing like they had been yesterday when they were almost hopeful. Today they were dull and vacant, it gave Rowan an uneasy feeling.

"Um, hi. I just thought-"

"You thought wrong." And started his swift pace past Rowan.

"But-" Rowan sighed and just did his best to keep up with Lorcan.

He really needed to work on his cardio, he was a bit winded when they got to the school. Lorcan disappeared into the throng of high schoolers. "Fuck," breathed Rowan.

All Rowan wanted was to be friendly with Lorcan. He was sad and frustrated when someone touched his shoulder.

"I'm sure he'll come around someday," Elide said with a knowing look.

"I just.." Rowan didn't know what he was saying.

"I know. Let's go to class." Elide looped her arm through his and they set off for History of Erilea.

---

Lorcan was sent to the library again for his P.E. class. He sat in a secluded corner, hoping Elide wouldn't find him. She didn't. Thank Hellas.

Pulling out his journal, he decided to write about Rowan, about how he didn't deserve a friend in Rowan. It was strange for him to use this journal for something other than an abuse record. Although, maybe this was a different sort of torture, a personal one. He couldn't have friends, and he definitely couldn't have anything more. They would likely be moving in a month or two anyway.

But Lorcan kept going back to how it felt when Rowan had touched his hand. There were butterflies in his stomach every time he thought about it. Did he really have a crush on this guy? For his whole life, he has done his best to keep the world out and now, somehow his walls were cracking. He was desperately trying to fill those cracks back in, he couldn't break now. He wouldn’t let his walls fall for some pretty boy.

The bell rang for lunch, he was starving, but he wanted to be alone in the quiet. He decided to eat quickly and then come back.

That didn't work out so well.

After sitting at the empty table in the corner and shoving food in his face, the silver haired boy sat across from him. He didn't say anything, he just ate. Lorcan just stared at him, food half raised to his mouth. Realizing Rowan wasn't going to say anything, he continued to eat.

His food was gone and now he didn't really want to go back to the library. Somehow it was comfortable sitting here with Rowan, so he just got out some of his homework instead. It really would be best to go back to the library.

++++

Yes! It was working!

Elide had suggested to Rowan that maybe he should sit with Lorcan at lunch and just be quiet. So he did and Lorcan didn't snap or run away. It was progress!

Rowan felt elated at this, especially when it looked like Lorcan was going to leave, then decided to stay. He did his best to hide his smile. But gods above, he was excited. He texted Elide.

RoRo: it's working!

Ellie: That's because I'm amazing! Haha!

RoRo: omg elide

Ellie: I'm happy it's working, Rowan. I really am. :)

Rowan looked up to see Lorcan lost in thought with his pencil down his cast. It probably itched like crazy. But then, he saw it or lack of it. All the doodle marks were nearly gone. Tears pricked his eyes, and his throat tightened. Was yesterday some sort of joke? Gods, he was stupid.

RoRo: he cleaned his cast off…

Ellie: What? Seriously?

He couldn't sit there anymore. Rowan angrily grabbed his stuff and went back to his usual table with his friends. He just hoped that Lorcan didn't see the tears that fell down his cheeks. It was embarrassing how emotional he could be sometimes.

Fen saw Rowan coming over, he was wiping his face, "You're sure he cleaned his cast off? I didn't even know you could do that without compromising its durability."

"There's smudged Sharpie over the part I could see," he said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

Everyone frowned. Aelin threw her arms around him. "He's just an asshole."

---

Lorcan had wondered how long it would take for Rowan to get fed up with him and leave. But he wasn't expecting to see him crying as he left.

He felt like shit. Looking at the exposed cast, he saw Rowan's faded and smudged doodle. Fucking Hellas. This day has turned to complete and utter shit and needed to end.

Thankfully, the rest of the day went by quickly. Elide had ignored him in creative writing. Obviously, Rowan had told everyone. This was probably for the best anyway.

____

Thanks for reading! Let know you would like to be tagged.

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

[ponyguru]

Tonight I watched all of He-Man: Revelations and most of Centaurworld (I watched the first three episodes like, a week ago?) and I have ... opinions. (And it’s 4:37am, might as well share them while they’re fresh!)

(Warning, this got very long and ranty, sorry for stretching out your dashboards if that’s even still a thing anymore?)

He-Man was entertaining, but it did feel like (as someone with like, less than a passing knowledge of the characters) someone’s super-angsty fanfiction more than like ... a continuing series. They killed off multiple well-known, beloved characters, to drive home the point of how SERIOUS and how HARDCORE this series is, and instead it felt like being a little kid in the 80s watching Optimus Prime get murdered to sell more toys. Like, WHY DID THEY DIE? Oh right, to show the viewer how SERIOUS the bad guys are! And to give the other characters things to angst over, to show you they’re no longer just shallow 80s muscle man stereotypes to sell toys! But then you gotta wonder, where will they go from here? Who’s even left to continue the storyline? Is it still He-Man if half the supporting cast is dead?

Like I said, I’m not a He-Man fan by trade, but aside from the pointless murder, it did seem like it delved into the backstories that a lot of people have probably wanted since the 80s, and it made some very interesting points. So, hey, maybe it’ll be beloved by its fans! And it was very entertaining, especially as someone who wasn’t a childhood fan so I didn’t have a lot of nostalgia that I had to watch die. It doesn’t end on a happy note, there’s definitely the ‘what if the villains WON’ theme going, so maybe my opinion will be less dour when the next part comes out. (I did like that it focused more on the female characters, which was a very unexpected change, and in that aspect I felt it was very well written; that could explain why I’ve heard other screechingly negative feedback elsewhere online, heh. He-Man fans probably don’t appreciate the heavy preference paid to Teela.)

Centaurworld was ... well, I watched the first episode with my mother, which was a Huge Fucking Mistake. I heard that it was a thrilling combination of something akin to Adventure Time and a more serious cartoon like Avatar, and instead I got 10 minutes of that, and then 16 minutes of continuous ass, fart, and poop jokes, combined with a couple of great tunes and a lot of tuneless recitative style “songs”.

If you follow this blog, you probably know toys; you know the Poopsie Surprise toys? The ones which were so obsessed with uncomfortably sexualized poop/fart/barf references that entire scholarly articles were written about the sexualization of children with scatology-themed toys? Yeah, that’s what Centaurworld felt like, almost the whole time. Like just ... an uncomfortable amount of poop/butt/fart “jokes”, to the point where it felt like it had to be one of the writer’s fetishes. Like, it was clearly not funny, and the main character is clearly uncomfortable with it ... and it just keeps going.

I say jokes in scare quotes because jokes are supposed to be funny, and a lot of Centaurworld just wasn’t funny. You could tell it was meant to have jokes, but it was very much dated early-2000s type humor, I want to guess? The kind where it’s not so much ‘setup-punchline’ but the more ‘awkward reference awkward reference awkward reference drawn out wooooord’ type of “jokes”. And most of those “jokes” were just - you guessed it - drawn out references to butts, or farts, or some combination of the two. I felt like an aged boomer watching it. I like to think I’m hip and with the times, but it felt like it should be aimed at a middle schooler - but like, an oversexualized middle schooler? It was uncomfortable to say the least. (One character talks to his farts, claims they talk back to him, and he addresses them as ‘Daddy,’ while another character expresses how uncomfortable that is, and implies he has “issues” to unpack. Because that’s hilarious, I guess?)

Centaurworld did, beneath the heavy layer of scatology, have an intriguing storyline. A warhorse from a LOTR-style world is thrown into a wacky Adventure Time-type land made up of silly centaurs, and has to try and find her way back home. It was thrilling at times, if you could slog through everything else that beleaguered it. There were some really good jokes! But I couldn’t quite muster up a laugh, because I was still wondering when the next butt reference would sneak in. After ten terrible jokes, the one good joke couldn’t manage to lift me from the depth of despair I’d sunken into. It really only felt like the show got ‘tolerable’ around episode 7 (out of ten!!!!), which was an episode heavily focused on cats. (Which, again; wasn’t the internet very much about LOLCats in the early 2000s?)

If six episodes of a ten-episode series is nigh-intolerable, is it a successful show? Should you bother watching something that is 60%+ garbage? (And DON’T FUCKING WORRY, the poop/butt/fart jokes continued UNTIL THE FUCKING FINAL EPISODE.)

I suspect that, if there was a “goal” for all of the fetish stuff (beyond fetish stuff for fetish sake), it would be to illustrate to the viewer how uncomfortable the main character feels in this strange new land, and for us to share in her discomfort. Which, fine, sure! Secondhand embarrassment is definitely a trope. But the sheer uncomfortable volume of the poop/butt/fart jokes clearly went way beyond mere discomfort, and veered into ‘why is this coming up so much, is someone getting off on this?’ territory, at least for me. A couple butt jokes an episode, fine, okay. Entire five minute bits devoted to farts and butts? Entire songs about butts? I start questioning why it’s such a beloved subject for you to write about.

Plus, and I may be reading into this too much, but several of the only Black-coded characters felt racist. I’m talking neck-snapping, tribal body paint type racism, although only one got the exaggerated “soul” type music to sing, which I guess is a relative win? (Waterbaby and Judge Jacket, if you’re wondering who I’m referencing. One of them is a literal hippo centaur, giving us shades of Madagascar.) It wasn’t obvious, but combined with everything else, it felt ... bad. (There are multiple other nonwhite voice actors who aren’t stereotypes, so maybe it was just a bad case of ‘trying to represent different culture while being clueless white people’, who knows?) There was also some classic fatphobia, with one of the villains being shown as a fat neckbeard collector/nerd. Wasn’t that relevant in - wait for it - the early 2000s? They redeem themselves very slightly by having maybe two other characters who are visibly fat, but one of them is also viewed as an antagonist.

Anyway, I was disappointed enough with the show to feel like I should say something, so - there it is. Centaurworld did have some good moments, some lovely songs, and there was some really heartwarming and tender character development that I liked, sandwiched between huge swaths of discomfort. There might be a season 2 (there shouldn’t be, LOL) and hell, I will probably suffer through it because I want to see what happens to them. But I can’t recommend that anyone else do the same, in all good conscience. It’s not good. It’s just not. But if you have 5 hours to kill, there’s worse stuff out there?

If you want to watch one episode to see the best of the series, I recommend episode seven, “Johnny Teatime's Be Best Competition: A Quest for the Sash.” It’s themed after the CATS musical, and the extended number at the end gave me shades of MLP or Fashion Star Fillies. (I found an official clip of the song posted here.) There’s also other lovely songs in the series, but you’d have to suffer through entire bad episodes to see them. The lovely “You’re Okay” shows up in the very first episode, so if you’re curious give that a watch... just be aware it never gets better, only worse.

This series genuinely upset me, because I wanted it to be something much better, and there were glimpses of it; you just had to try and close your eyes to the obsession with butts and farting to see pieces of what it might have been.

One notable fact that I thought was kind of like ‘wow, oof’ was that Meghan McCarthy, of MLP:FiM fame, was a story editor for Centaurworld. And considering how MLP went downhill in later seasons, I gotta say I’m wondering if there’s a commonality there. Maybe her fetish is bad writing? There’s worse fetishes to have, AS CENTAURWORLD CLEARLY DEMONSTRATES.

[tendertenebrosity]

Next instalment of TJ and Danny’s story, set in @wildfaewhump‘s Pathverse! Direct sequel to here , you should go read that first! Masterpost can be found here. 

Danny took the next exit, without even bothering to read the signs. It wasn’t as if he had a goal in mind, not anymore – if he couldn’t go to Julie’s Agency there was no point driving to her city.

He was going to have to stop soon and decide what to do. But if he just kept driving, he could put off needing to make that call for just a little longer.

The outskirts of the city slid by his window. He tried to just drive, thinking as little as possible. Trying to keep his grip on the wheel steady but not white-knuckled, trying not to let his breathing speed up and up and up until he was leaning forward in his seat and accidentally roaring along at 20 over the speed limit.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

What was he going to do?

You’re really in the shit now, Danny, he told himself. Why did you call her? Why did you think she’d understand? Before this last year, before this endless slog through court case after violent court case, melt-downs and seizures, hospitalisations and Class-A memory ‘treatments’, picking right back up and going to work again afterwards, watching TJ get thinner and shakier and more threadbare every week without ever being capable of understanding why but still quieting under Danny’s touch like it actually meant something…

Danny wouldn’t’ve understood either.

He flicked the radio on, blaring voices spouting something inane. He jumped stations a few times, looking for something with music. He found something that sounded like country, listened to that for a minute or two, before flicking it off again in annoyance.

Of course Julie didn’t understand, because this was flat-out crazy, and Danny knew it. He didn’t know how it had come to this. What had he been thinking? What did he think he was achieving? This had been a mistake, from start to finish.  

“Um. Handler? Danny?”

The white line on the road jerked and veered wildly in front of Danny as he swore, curbing the impulse to whip around and look behind him.

Fucking hell. Keep it together enough to drive, will you?

He spared a glance in the mirror. Sure enough, the Path was sitting up, looking small and hunched and incongruously clean in the grubby back seat of Danny’s old car. His thin pale fingers clutched at the black seatbelt.

“Jesus, kid,” Danny snapped.

“Sorry,” TJ whispered. “Sorry, I’ll – I’ll be quiet, I’m sorry...”

“No, I - ” Danny breathed out heavily through his nose, made his hands relax on the wheel. The way TJ was lately, Danny couldn’t raise his voice without the poor sod thinking he’d done something wrong. The way he cringed from the nurses, from other handlers, from Danny himself sometimes - it made Danny think hard, vicious things about whoever had been assigned to him before.

How could I have just gone on to the next job and left him there?

He tried to make his voice light. “No, kid, not your fault,” he said. “You just, uh, startled me. Didn’t mean to wake you, we’re hours away from where we’re going yet.” For God’s sake don’t ask me where that is, I don’t fucking know.

“I was awake,” the Path said, a wispy thread of voice from the backseat. “Um. Danny?”

Danny grunted to show he was listening.

“Are you really stealing me?”

Damn it.

“How much did you hear of that?” Danny asked, his stomach sinking. He’d thought TJ was safely asleep. Idiot.

“Um. All of it,” TJ said. “You said – Danny, you said – why do you think someone’s going to kill me?”

“I – well, because…” This was stupid. Why was Danny floundering for words in front of a Path? Danny could only catch the occasional glimpse of the Path in his mirror, and blindfolded TJ wasn’t capable of looking at anything, but still he had to fight back the feeling that TJ was looking at him accusingly.

“Because you’re sick,” he settled on eventually. He blinked hard at the wavering road in front of him, resettled his grip on the steering wheel. “And… and you’ll get better if you have time, TJ, but they don’t want to give you that time. Because it isn’t… ” The end of the sentence died in his throat. Because everyone’s too busy. Because there’s a contract. Because you’re not important enough.

Because it isn’t cost-efficient.

“Did they tell you that?”

“No,” Danny said. “I just… I can see how it’s going to go. That’s all.”

“Oh.” TJ’s voice was thin, quiet. He shifted, overlarge scrubs rustling. “So… so that’s why you’re stealing me?”

Danny winced. “I’m not – TJ, stop saying that. I’m taking you to a different Agency where you’ll be taken care of properly. It’ll all be okay, all right?”

Danny wished the Path hadn’t overheard. He wished this conversation could have held off until they’d stopped; he couldn’t assess the Path’s body language. Fuck, Julie had said that word, described this as ‘stealing’, and maybe now it had stuck in TJ’s head.

He wondered what the hell went on in that head sometimes; how did a Path see the world? Not how normal people did, clearly. Obviously a Path wasn’t really capable of understanding right and wrong, and the law, and morality. But... TJ had seemed to understand a lot of the things he’d read for the court. He definitely understood what ‘stealing’ meant.  

Danny was half waiting for TJ to challenge him on it. They’d worked a case a few weeks ago, theft of a car and some power tools – perhaps TJ was now going to ask Danny what made this any different, why they’d helped send that person to jail but now Danny was taking off with Agency property.

Danny sighed. No, you idiot, he thought, exasperated with himself. Poor fucking kid’s probably a bit preoccupied with the whole ‘they’ll kill you’ thing. Pull your head out of your ass.

In the end TJ said neither of those things, though.

“You’re still going to be in… in a lot of trouble,” he said instead.

Danny laughed, a harsh, coughing noise that surprised him. “Yeah, kid, probably.”

“What if you can’t find another Agency?” TJ sounded calm, reasonable.

Danny resisted the urge to swear. It’s a good fucking question, isn’t it? “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s… it’ll be fine. It’s not your problem to worry about, kid, so just - ”

Danny’s phone rang.

The sound filled up the car, irritatingly cheerful electronic trilling. Danny knew who that would be; didn’t even need to look at the display. TJ subsided into silence. Danny drummed his gloved fingers on the wheel, gritted his teeth, wished he had a cigarette or a coffee or fucking something to calm himself down with.

If Danny really intended to make a run for it, he ought to throw that phone out the window and keep on driving, he knew. People could track you with those things.

But keep on driving to where? In the end, Danny didn’t have any real idea what he was doing. And the only one around to talk to in this car was a Path.

So he took a hand off the wheel and hit the button that answered the phone.

“Danny,” Julie said, her voice filled with relief. “Thanks for picking up.”

Danny made a noncommittal noise.

“Danny, where are you?”

He glanced around. Danny hadn’t driven in this area much; he didn’t know what the street was called, or even really what suburb he was in. Not much in the way of signs to help him out, either. But did that matter? He might have answered the phone, but Danny wasn’t at the point where he was willing to give Julie either of those things.

“You’re sending people out after me,” he accused her. “The cops, or, or an Agency acquisition van.”

“Danny, I want to help you, I - ”

“If you wanted to help me you could have heard me out,” he snapped. “But you’re not going to, I can fucking tell.”

“Hey, you’re the one who hung up on me, remember?”

“Yeah, cause you weren’t listening to me!” Danny said. The scenery sped by, a patchwork of industrial-looking squat concrete blocks of buildings and what looked to be neglected empty land, filled with scrubby trees and patchy fields that were more weeds than grass. He tried to keep his voice down, keep calm, but it grated and wobbled in his ears regardless. “You didn’t have any intention of helping me with TJ, you just lied to me to shut me up when you said you would fix it.”

Julie was better at lying than she’d been before, but the seam was still visible to Danny. The point where she had just started agreeing with anything he said in an attempt to get him to do what she wanted.

“No, Danny,” she protested. “Look, Danny, I just – I don’t know this Path, okay, I don’t know what your situation is, but I want to help you. So if you want to talk about the Path, okay, let’s talk. I’m listening.”

“Talk about….” Danny glanced up to the mirror. At TJ still sitting there, turning his head this way and that.  Making Danny think vaguely of a baby bird, head too big for its little neck. Listening to everything they were both saying. “Look, he’s not dangerous or anything.”

“Okay. Danny, is… is TJ…” Julie’s voice hushed, suddenly, as if she was talking about something obscene. “Danny, are we talking about the child of someone you know? Or your child? Because…”

“Wh- No!” Danny yelped. He took his eyes off the road to gape, horrified, at Julie’s name on the display for a moment. The car wavered underneath him and he dragged his eyes back up.  

That was… a thought. Jesus Christ. It had somehow never occurred to him. Danny wasn’t anywhere near the point in his life where he’d be contemplating babies, but even so – even so – how had he never thought of that? That if he did, there was a non-zero chance they might be…

“I’m talking about an adult Path,” he said, to Julie, forcefully. “Not a child. He’s not related to me in any form. He’s my Path from work, just a regular assigned… fuck, you know what I mean!”

“Uh huh,” Julie said cautiously. She sounded relieved; papers shuffled again, and Danny suspected he could hear her typing something. “All right. What class is he?”

Danny let out a breath, trying to calm down. “E,” he said. “We worked in, um, Criminal Justice. The courtroom mostly, sometimes the police station.” He chewed his lip, considered and rejected two or three different sentence beginnings. “It’s fucking hard work, OK? It’s difficult, the readings are always long, and it’s bloody dark stuff sometimes, and they never….”  

“Class E? OK,” Julie said, gently. “Where is, um, TJ now, Danny?”

“He’s here,” Danny said, exasperated. “I can see him right now, okay, he’s still got his blindfold on and he’s in the back seat and he’s not causing any trouble. He’s never caused any trouble, even though he’s been treated like shit.”  

“He’s in the back? He can’t touch you?”

“What? No?” Danny glanced in the mirror. Still just a puzzled TJ, seatbelt done up, eyes covered, hands in his lap.

“Okay, good.” Julie started speaking rapidly, urgently. “Danny, I really really need you to pull up by the road and wait for me. Okay? You’re not going to understand why, but we did this in training, right, so I need you to trust me. You’re probably confused and that’s okay…”

“What?”

“Danny, you know that Paths can affect people’s minds - ”

“You think he got to me? You think that’s what this is about?” Danny shook his head, bottling up the stream of swearwords that wanted to escape. Julie thought that TJ was somehow making Danny do this? TJ, visibly upset by the change in routine, shaking and frightened at getting into a slightly different car, who’d been in a hospital bed with tubes everywhere and dried blood all over his face just a week ago? “You’re wrong. Dead wrong. How would that even - ”

“I know that what you’re doing probably makes perfect sense to you now,” Julie interrupted, her voice somehow managing to be both soothing and urgent. “You just have to trust me that it doesn’t, Danny, okay? You can’t rely on your instincts now.”

“Fuck’s sake, Julie - ”

“Nothing is the way it seems. It’s not your fault. You’re in the presence of a Path; they get into your head, they can make you think or feel whatever they - ”

Danny growled in frustration. He hauled on the steering wheel, hand over hand awkwardly, to navigate a turn. “Julie, cut the crap! Trying your scaremongering bullshit on me like I’m some clueless layperson? He never fucking touched me, and he’s fucking E, he’s not even capable of that!”

“Danny, you may not know as much about him as you think you do,” Julie insisted. Some of the cool soothing quality frayed away from her voice. “Come on! I know it’s hard but think. You know why we take the precautions we do, you know the damage that can be done! It’s not your fault, you’re confused. Once you tell me where you are - ”

“I’m not confused,”Danny snapped. He felt sick. If this was what Julie thought, there was no chance of this turning out all right. Not within any Agency. It didn’t make sense but had that ever mattered to Agency management? “I’ve never been confused.”

“- once I know where you are I can help you, okay? We can sort it all out, for you and TJ both, it will all - ”

“Sort it out!” Danny snarled. “Oh, yeah, sure you fucking will! I know how you’ll sort TJ out!”

“Danny - ”

“This is bullshit! I’m not going back to your goddamn cold-blooded, two-faced – uh- ”

Danny caught his breath. The metal barrier that lined the road, painted with yellow chevrons, was coming up fast – way too fast.

Fuck, there was a turn, he hadn’t seen -

He slammed his foot onto the brake pedal and wrenched the wheel to the left; metal grated and squealed in protest.  The car was sliding – Danny’s seatbelt was digging painfully into his ribs as the world swung back and forth violently, and he realised in the half-second he had that the car was fish-tailing as it hurtled towards the metal barrier and the downward slope that lay beyond.

Somewhere in the background, Julie’s voice was asking something, pitched high with concern, but it was drowned out by the screeching of tires and the sound of TJ’s frightened yell from the backseat.

Danny’s car hit the barrier, and the world rolled over and over on itself in a sickening whirl that ended with a metallic crunch.

[bigskydreaming]

@fuyunoakegata

#reblogging now that I've actually had time to sit down and give this proper attention and take it all in#and damn i love that you managed to get through all of this and never veer off topic into Deathwing#:)

*snorts* You give me too much credit. Deathwing was absolutely on the to do list for that post, he was just in the part I never got to because I hit my ‘oh right, physiological needs are a thing’ threshold and was like fuck it, I’ll do that later.

Kalen’s Razor: Never attribute to willpower what can be better explained by him just running out of steam.

But I mean tbh, he was in the part I delayed for another time because I didn’t want to like.....shortchange the importance of that part and how much attention and thought I gave it. Because like, I don’t actually think he’s off topic at all. I think he’s absolutely central to the topic, and in fact, he’s part of the thing I TRULY despise about this whole mess of a story and DC’s actions in regards to it. Faaaaaar more than their failure to call it rape or the victim-blaming, and you KNOW how much I love me a good ‘how dare they’ victim-blaming rant. So.

Still don’t quite have the time or spoons to dig into all that just yet, but I mean.....I think it definitely also needs to be acknowledged that Mirage was raped by Dick’s future timeline evil doppelganger like, right after she did it and before the wedding issue even.....with the timing being really sketchy. Like, its literally just a handful of issues after her rape of him.....in fact, given the timeline publishing works according to and taking into account the lagtime between scripting/art and then to printers and then actual publication....its pretty damn clear they had to have started writing THAT storyline basically the month AFTER Mirage’s reveal that it was her Dick slept with hit stands. Ie, the month they would have started hearing reactions to that story.

So like.....there’s pretty much no way in hell that the Deathwing story WASN’T written specifically in response to that earlier story, or more specifically to REACTIONS to that....which leaves literally only two real options for WHY they would have felt the need for that. One would be as a ‘just desserts’ type thing, like if it was meant as a punishment - which ugh, no, that would not be any better for a whole host of reasons I don’t have time for right now.....but tbh, that doesn’t really track because if that was the reason for that direction you would assume they WOULD bring up what she did to Dick again as relevant. Like that direction literally only makes sense IF you WANT to focus on what she did and why it was fucked up. Which....they clearly didn’t, since they never did that.

Which leaves the only other real likely option....that it was done in an attempt to drum up sympathy for her character and distract from what she’d done, as for whatever reason DC was still interested in keeping her as a hero and eventually a full time Titan, and they’d only realized after the fact that where they had previously had taken her was now making that damn near impossible without ‘damage control.’ And I deeply resent the fuck out of that, and using rape as a ploy to drum up sympathy for a character, particularly one who only needs sympathy drummed up because of doing basically the same damn thing, like....ugh. Fuck you DC. Its cheap, and manipulative, and compounds the refusal to address Dick’s rape as rape now juxtaposed to the rape of his rapist, which in contrast they have ZERO problem addressing as rape. 

But unfortunately, its really hard to see any other possible reason they would have gone that direction since it marked the point at which they REVISITED the others’ reactions to what happened with her and Dick and had Kory, who had previously expressed forgiveness and more of a focus on her anger at Mirage....THIS was the point where Kory reversed course and characters en masse started only addressing what Dick ‘had done’ as an active act of cheating. As well as being the point past which no character again brought up to Mirage any mention of her role in that, and the focus around her switched entirely to the ongoing storyline of her pregnancy due to Deathwing’s rape and his ensuing fixation on her and the baby, with a TON of focus on his obsession with HIS unborn child....all of which is basically tailor made to keep the narrative context around her actively sympathetic and further and further distant from what had happened with Dick. Culminating of course in the point where Julienne was born, Deathwing was in a coma and never talked about again, and Mirage left the team and the book to go raise Julienne.

Except there’s one thing that has driven me fucking bonkers for years, because its the part that never made ANY sense and seems entirely contradictory with their seeming desire to never actually address what happened with her and Dick and keep her at least as firmly separate and distanced in readers’ minds....from him and her actions there as possible.

Like, if that was the goal, I would THINK that they would go out of their way to leave as little wiggle room as possible as to who Julienne’s father actually was. I mean, right? If you don’t want people ever thinking or focusing on what she did to Dick and her connection to HIM rather than Deathwing.....I would think the LAST thing you would want is for people - characters OR readers - to have any reason to doubt that Deathwing was the baby’s father. Instead, its like they went out of their way TO make wiggle room for that very thing? Which makes NO sense.

But that’s exactly what they did. What happened with Dick and then what happened with Deathwing were mere issues apart and given the context of everything else happening, was at MOST a few weeks apart. Which isn’t a big deal, logistically, until you factor in that when they did reveal Mirage’s pregnancy a good twenty (maybe more) issues or so after THAT point.....they made a point to reveal that Mirage had used her powers to hide her pregnancy for some time. With it specifically pointed out that she went out of her way to hide it from her teammates as well as Deathwing. Like.....the ONLY thing that particular plot point really accomplished OR was ever brought up in context of.....was in terms of how it literally made it impossible to ever know for sure how long Mirage actually spent pregnant....ie, when exactly she got pregnant. 

And THEN, on TOP of that......after Deathwing being firmly established as Dick’s future timeline counterpart for actual YEARS at that point, real world time....at the very end of his appearances, once in his coma and right about when Mirage gave birth.....they for whatever reason decided to reveal that actually, Deathwing had never been any version of Dick Grayson at all. That he was only brainwashed to THINK he had the backstory he had...by whomever had selected him for how similar he appeared to the real Dick Grayson and then surgically altered him to further the impression.

And this was pretty much the last time the pre-Flashpoint version of Deathwing ever appeared or was even referenced, just kept at S.T.A.R. Labs in his coma from that point on and never revisited.....which again makes it like....WHY? Why go to that trouble? Like especially because if you DIDN’T actually want anyone ever really being like ‘hey has anyone ever considered Julienne might be Dick’s? Like do we know for sure, like, the two events DID happen awfully close together”.....like, if that’s what you DON’T want ever happening, then it actually works BETTER if Deathwing is Dick’s evil alternate counterpart? Because then there’s literally no element that can ever be brought up or introduced to suggest that Julienne is actually Dick Grayson’s daughter.....that CAN’T be dismissed with “well yes, and Deathwing WAS, technically, Dick Grayson, that explains that.” It effectively makes the question of who is Julienne’s true father impossible to ever conclusively answer.....which in turn basically makes it an irrelevant question. There’s no reason to ask that question instead of just accepting the narrative that its Deathwing....because what’s the point when the only answer that can ever be found is still always going to be “Dick Grayson” either way?

But making a point to reveal that Deathwing ISN’T a version of Dick and never was....is what actually ALLOWS for doubt and creates a reason to make the real Dick Grayson relevant to the subject of Mirage and Julienne again....AFTER the comics just spent the last thirty or so issues doing every other thing possible to make Dick IRRELEVANT to their storyline. Because only NOW, after that specific reveal, is there an actual reason characters might some day revisit the matter and actually raise the question of Julienne’s parentage....because only NOW does it become a question that would require a conclusive answer of one or the other, Dick Grayson or Deathwing...where a definitive answer that is NOT Deathwing, is actually a viable prospect.

I just....*pulls hair and eats it* I don’t understand what they were going for. Its entirely counter intuitive, and both elements - the pregnancy timeline and Deathwing specifically not being a genetic double of the real Nightwing - are entirely SUPERFICIAL to the entire storyline they created for Mirage and Julienne. There is absolutely ZERO reason to bring those things up or focus on them at all, nothing is added to the story BY bringing those up. And literally every other thing they did with both Dick and Mirage over the course of like, the entire last couple years of Mirage’s regular appearances before she left the team to raise Julienne....every other thing they did follows a clear pattern of deliberately putting as much distance between the two and their shared storyline as possible....

Except for these two specific details that they never needed to put in and ONLY serve one singular purpose: to throw the otherwise clear picture and timeline into question, and bring the possibility of Dick being the true father BACK into the equation that they’d just spent umpteen issues writing him OUT of.

Ugh. Its one of those things that’s always gonna bug me even though its never going to matter at this point. Hell, even with the Mirage story obliquely mentioned recently in the Batman B&W story and continuity being open season, like, I’ll be pretty surprised if they ever actually bring Mirage back into the picture, but I’d be stunned if they ever even reference Julienne again. Like, as far as canon goes at least, its literally never gonna matter, but its such a weird unnecessary little discrepancy that I’ve always just wanted to track down one of the writers involved and be like....”can you walk me through that? I really just want to understand what your logic was there” lolol.

[starrynite7114]

Misconstrued: Part 2

A/N: Good evening my lovelies! I was going to post this last night, but it became too late when I got home. Hopefully you all will enjoy this one! Snapshots and another request will be posted after this! Hope you all will enjoy the update as much as you liked the first one! 

Anon:  I don't know if this is too specific but could you do something about Angel ruining a date and later admits it because he loves them and then they have some angry smut and late night fluff

Word Count: 7317

Masterlist

Tag List: @iambabyharry​ : @justahopelessssromantic​ : @carlaangel86​ : @marvelmaree​ : @mrsamaroevans​ : @ifoundmyhappythought​: @woahitslucyylu​ : @cind-in-real-life​ : @briannab1234​ : @fairygardenss​ : @gemini0410​ : @everyhowlmarksthedead​ : @losolvidad0s​ : @whyisgmora​ : @comasi-world​ : @xserenax-13​ : @chibsytelford

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know! If I forgot to add you, I’m so sorry!

Ever since your date two weeks ago, Angel has not been around you as much. Whenever you were around the clubhouse, EZ was your constant companion and if it veered from the norm, it would be Coco or Gilly. From time to time, you hung out with Riz. It was always fun to exchange information about hair care products with Riz. It was ridiculous just how nice his hair was.

But you missed Angel. 

You’re not sure why he avoided you like the plague, but you figured it had something to do with the date and how you confessed your feelings for him. You appreciated the distance cause maybe you can resume the friendship between you two. He would be pleasant with you, but he wouldn’t stay around like he usually did. 

And it was fucking hard for Angel.

He tried his best to stay away from you. It would become difficult at times. He missed hearing your ridiculous ass stories about car owners and how much their egos reflected on their cars. He missed hearing you babble about the newest recipe you made for yourself and how you couldn’t wait to share it with him. 

It broke him when you would come by the scrapyard looking for him. He would send Ezekiel to deal with you.

=================

“Come on Angel, don’t be a douche, just go talk to her.” EZ snapped. He was so annoyed by this whole situation. This had nothing to do with sponsor and prospect. This was between brothers and EZ was going to strangle Angel soon.

“Ezekiel, I’m busy, just talk to her. I can’t play hard to get if I’m readily available.” Angel argued. 

“You’re such a fucking idiot.” EZ walked out of the clubhouse to meet with you. Chucky had informed them that you were at the front office, asking for Angel as you had brought him something.

Angel waited for EZ to come, slightly anxious. He should stop playing this game, he fucking knew that, but he was already invested, he had to follow through.

EZ came into the office and found you sitting down, with a tupperware in your lap, and your right knee shaking away. He noticed it was something you did without noticing and from Angel told him, it was due to you becoming anxious. Angel was such a pain, the fact he was doing this to you made him that more annoying.

“Hey,” EZ greeted you.

You looked up at him and he saw the deflated look on your face that you quickly tried to mask. “Hey Ezekiel.” You greeted him. “Angel isn’t around?”

“He’s working on something, can’t pull him away, you know him. Once you distract him once, he’ll never get back to it.” EZ attempted to joke with you, but you just gave him a tight smile.

“I made him cookies, some sort of peace offering.” You extended the container towards EZ. 

EZ gave you a small smile and nodded his head. “There’s no need for a peace offering, Angel isn’t mad at you.”

“Yeah?” You stood up. “Doesn’t feel like it. I’ll see you later boy scout.” You left before EZ could even say anything else. 

EZ shook his head, cussing his brother’s name under his breath. He made his way back to the clubhouse, debating if he should just keep the cookies to himself. Angel didn’t deserve these cookies, especially with the way he was making you feel. 

“Here, you douchebag.” Ezekiel placed the Tupperware in front of Angel, who was sitting in the clubhouse while EZ spoke with you at the scrapyard.

“What’s this?” Angel opened the Tupperware and it was your infamous cookies that he could devour without a problem on his own. They were addicting. They were white chocolate macadamia. “Fuck.” His mouth watered.

“You know this is really fucked up. She thinks you fucking hate her now.” EZ scolded his older brother. “This is a stupid game Angel, just tell her what’s going on.”

“I did, she brushed me off. I can’t be the only one putting in some effort.”

EZ rolled his eyes. “God, you’re so fucking stubborn.” EZ stood up. “She brought those as a peace offering. She knew how much you love those cookies and that maybe now you’d speak to her like before.”

Angel remained quiet, eating the cookie as EZ watched him.

“You don’t deserve those cookies with the way you’ve been acting towards her.” EZ hissed as he walked away. He paused by the door and turned around, grabbing the tupperware from Angel. “You don’t deserve these cookies.”

“Hey! Ezekiel!” Angel chased after EZ.

After that day, you kept trying to leave Angel food, but EZ was always there to intercept. It got tiring for you that Angel kept avoiding you, so you decided to give him his space. The excuses were lame and EZ knew that, but he tried to cover for his brother. 

So you started giving EZ the things you were supposed to give Angel. 

The one time you happened to run into Angel, he wasn’t exactly happy about your choice.

“Hey, shocking you’re here, is EZ here?” You asked Angel, trying to keep your focus. Angel was currently shirtless, wiping off all the sweat dripping down his body. You’re thankful that the sun was hitting your glasses so you could squint and not truly see Angel’s ridiculous body.

“Ezekiel? Why the fuck are you looking for him? You need someone to go with you?” Angel was avoiding you, but if he knew no one could be with you, he would go.

“No, I brought him food for lunch.” You held up the plastic you were holding. 

“What do you mean they’re for EZ?” Angel noticed that you stopped dropping stuff off from him, or maybe his little brother had decided to keep things for himself. 

“Yeah well, you’ve made it very clear you don’t want anything, so I don’t want to push myself onto you.” You placed the food on the picnic table. “Can you just give it to him? I gotta get back to the shop.”

“Hey, why won’t you and I grab lunch? I’m sure you haven’t eaten.” Angel was starting to see that maybe Gilly’s way was not working. He didn’t want to keep pushing you away.

“It’s okay, I have work to do, I just came to drop this off for EZ.” You slipped back inside your car, leaving the yard. 

Angel cussed under his breath. EZ came out from the clubhouse, giving him a questioning look?

“Was that Y/N?” EZ questioned.

“Yeah, you making moves on my girl?” Angel knew it sounded stupid, especially how he saw the expression on EZ’s face change. 

“You fucking serious right now?” EZ demanded. “You’re the one playing this stupid game.” 

“Fuck you Ezekiel.”

“Yeah, well you can go fuck yourself Angel.”

=================

Currently you were getting ready for your second date with Damien. You didn’t tell anyone at the club where your second date would be or that there was going to be a second date. All you wanted to do was enjoy the night with Damien and truly get to know him. 

You needed to know if there was a spark, to know if this was going to be worth it. If not, you were definitely staying away from anyone under the club’s influence.

You heard a knock on your door and opened it, the smile on your face slightly faded when you saw Angel on the other side. 

“Hey.” You greeted him. “What’s up?”

“Can I come in?” 

You opened your door a little wider and stepped aside to let Angel in. He scanned the room making you roll your eyes. 

“Who told you I have a date tonight?”

Angel chuckled. “Not important, Damien warrants a second date?”

Angel broke his deal with Gilly today after EZ overheard your plans for a second date. He couldn’t let you go on that date, even if he’s been MIA lately.

“Why do you care? You’ve literally avoided me for the last two weeks Angel, you don’t have a club hang-around to stroke your ego tonight?” That was a low blow, but Angel needed to know that he wasn’t going to always have the upper hand.

“You jealous?” Angel smirked.

You were surprised by his question and you opened your mouth to reply no, but nothing came out.

“I think it’s cute you're jealous, cause you know how much I don’t like Damien.” Angel stepped closer to you, your back was against the door. “I’m jealous querida, I fucking hate knowing that you’re going on another date with him. Why won’t you just cancel and you let me take you out?”

“Angel, I told you, stop with the games.” 

“What fucking games? I told you I fucking want you, I like you and you’re still entertaining this fucker.” Angel stepped away from her, frustrated with her. 

“You’ve ignored me for two weeks, you expect me to believe you want to be around all of a sudden?”

“It was Gilly’s idea, play hard to get. You have no idea how much I fucking want you.” Angel felt like he was going crazy. All he wanted was to be with you, to start this relationship. 

“Listen, I don’t need this right now. Go to Vicky’s get your dick wet, you’ll forget all about this.” It hurt you to say that, but you didn’t want to play this game with Angel. You were trying to put yourself out there. And Angel was your friend, you didn’t want to go back down that road again.

“Do you know how hard it is to fuck another woman when you’re the only thing on my mind? I can’t even get fucking hard without thinking of you.” You slightly gasped at Angel’s confession. You’ve never known anyone as blunt as Angel. He wore his heart on his sleeve, which was why you were surprised to find out he likes you or apparently does. You’ve had conversations like this with another man before, nothing came to fruition, but it was eerie to you how familiar this conversation was. He wasn’t as blunt as Angel, but he always knew what to say to keep you around. Not this time, you wouldn’t fall for it.

“Cat got your tongue querida?” Angel knew he had you. He should have been more straightforward, but he was out of his element. He was finally getting his footing.

“Angel, I have something good with Damien, please don’t ruin it.”

“Is he better than me? Is that what you’re trying to show me? I bet that he won’t make you feel as good as I do.” 

“You know what, fuck you Angel. If I want to fuck anyone, I’ll fuck Damien.” You weren’t even sure why you said that. You had no plans on fucking Damien, none whatsoever. But you knew it would get to Angel and quite frankly, you felt good digging it into him. 

Angel’s phone rang, preventing him from even replying to your ridiculous ass though.

“This is not finished. Have fun on your date querida.” Angel left after the phone call, most likely club business. 

“He is so infuriating.” 

You sat back down on your couch, awaiting Damien’s arrival, but he never came. Just a text message. 

‘I’m sorry, I don’t think this is going to work out. You’re a nice girl, very beautiful, but I just don’t think there’s a spark here.’

You reread his text message a few times, but eventually you placed your phone down, letting out a sigh. 

Guess you’re back in the dating game. 

=================

Currently you were at a club party. You had just walked in with EZ and your eyes immediately roamed around the outside of the clubhouse and found Angel. A beer in one hand and his other resting on a girl’s lap as he whispered into her ear. It was like what happened a few days ago didn’t even fucking happen. He was back to ignoring you, which was so much more difficult with Damien not distracting you. 

“Well that’s nice.” You bitterly chuckled. “EZ tonight might be a short one.”

It was always a short one, but EZ wasn’t a dick. He wasn’t going to let Angel play his game and get a reaction from you. Angel’s game plan was simple, distance himself from you so you could seek him out and to make you jealous so that you would break and proclaim your undying love for him. But you did technically do that, Angel was just being irrational. Gilly was talking him through the whole thing while Coco and EZ just shook their head, not wanting to further egg on Angel’s stupidity.

You looked around, trying to avoid Angel. You noticed then that there were more bikes than usual. When other charters came to Santo Padre, you tried not to come to the parties since you didn’t want to run into him. You knew that he was a full patch member of Stockton. There were times you couldn’t avoid it, but when he would come, Angel was around so he didn’t even try to come near you. But it was different this time, Angel wasn’t around. 

“Which charter is here?” You saw plenty of Mayans' kutte's on their backs flashing that pride proudly, but you couldn’t exactly read the patch at their front. 

“Stockton.”

“Okay, I don’t know why I come to these club parties.” You shook your head. You should be over it by now, it’s been years since your last encounter with him. But knowing he used you just to get some head with the Mayans, it never sat well with you. Five years you were his so called friend and every time you tried to walk away, he gave you enough for you to stay. He kissed you once or twice, just to keep you with him, but as soon as he was a full patch, it was like you were beneath him. You never told your Tio Bishop or Tio Marcus. He was a good foot soldier and the last thing you wanted was to cause drama. This was why you promised yourself to never fall for a Mayan, you had too many connections for there to be no ulterior motive. 

“Come on, you know you don’t mind the free food.” EZ teased you.

“Does your brother hate me now?” No offense to EZ, but you would really much rather have Angel as your protection detail. He kept any other club member from coming up to you. EZ was a prospect, he was technically their bitch. 

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Angel could never hate you.” And this was why EZ thought Gilly’s plan was ridiculous. You weren’t going to seek out Angel. For people who claimed they knew you, they don’t seem to know you at all. You were going to shy away. You wouldn’t put yourself in the position that would make you more vulnerable. You already thought Angel didn’t like you in the way you like him and this further cemented it. 

“He doesn’t really hang around me anymore. Guess the guard detail changed.” You tried to joke around with EZ, but he could tell you were hurt. The incident a few days ago was most likely a fluke. You tried to text him after, and no answer. 

“Look, you’re not an idiot. Angel told you he liked you that night at the fair right?” If his older brother wasn’t going to be smart about this, then EZ would take matters into his own hands. 

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know if he actually meant it seeing as how where we are now.”

“It was difficult for him to tell you that and you just kind of brushed it off. We all have our insecurities, but don’t be obtuse, Angel only hung around you whenever you were here. He likes you, a lot.” EZ could see Angel watching them as your back was towards Angel. “Why not put all of us out of our miseries and talk to him?”

“Hey Diego.”

Your reply surprised EZ and he turned around. The man behind him was almost as tall as Angel, muscular built with black short hair. His eyes weren’t even on EZ, it was just on you. 

“Hey, you mind giving us a minute prospect?” Diego acknowledged EZ.

“Sure, not a problem.” EZ looked over at you for some confirmation and you couldn’t exactly escape this conversation now. You just gave him a smile. 

EZ made his way over to where Coco, Gilly and Angel were sitting. His older brother looked at him as if he grew another head, pointing at you.

“The fuck are you doing?” Angel demanded, watching as Diego spoke to you.

“He asked to talk to her, he’s full patch Angel.” EZ explained, he knew the rules. As much as he wanted to stay, a patch asked him to walk away. There was hierarchy for a reason. 

“Yeah, well he’s not your fucking sponsor. If I tell you to stay with her, you fucking stay with her.” Angel’s jaw clenched. Your conversation from a few days back was fresh in his mind. You texted him, but he was across the border dropping off Creeper after he was injured on a run. 

Coco knew Diego. Both by association to the club and from what you told him. He was your confidant, the person you trusted with your secrets. Coco was the first person you befriended in the MC and you two remained close since then.

“Shit,” Coco stood up, thinking of a way to get you out of this conversation. He knew you could fight your own battles, but from what he understood, you had a weak spot for Diego, the man who basically used you to get into the good graces of the MC. “Boy Scout, tell Y/N I gotta talk to her.” If Diego had a problem with that, Coco would handle it then. 

EZ and Angel, who were arguing about EZ’s duties looked over at Coco, who interrupted their bickering. “What?” They asked in unison.

“Just do as I say, go get her.” Coco would do it himself, but he didn’t trust himself to not give Diego a piece of his mind.

“Shit, is that him?” Gilly knew of Diego as well. Him and Coco came over one night and you three happened to get drunk. You told Gilly all about Diego and all about your crush on Angel. Gilly had a soft spot for you as well. The MC were tough bikers, but they were sweet guys, as long as you didn’t fuck with them. 

“Yeah, that’s Diego.” Coco nodded his head. “Prospect, go get her.” He ordered EZ once again. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Angel looked at his best friends, wondering what was going on. Who the fuck was this guy?

Gilly and Coco both ignored Angel, keeping their eye on you. 

“How are you?” Diego wasn’t going to approach you. He would have done so the few times he had been down here with his charter, but Angel Reyes was always attached to you. He didn’t want any unwanted attention, so he didn’t pursue you. Also, he was certain that you weren’t exactly happy with him after everything that transpired. 

“Good, you?” Diego still looked the same, maybe a little older, but he still looked like the same person you had fallen for all those years ago.

“Good, just the same old shit.” He grinned, stuffing his hands in his pocket. “Big move to Santo Padre. Doesn’t look like your scene.”

You nodded your head. “Time for a change of scenery. Besides I followed my mom here and she decided to move back.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen her a few times, she still gives me the death glare.” You two laughed at that, knowing well how that looked like. “I don’t blame her.” He bowed his head, looking at the dirt beneath his feet. Diego was thankful that the clubhouse was full of life. 

You didn’t want to have this conversation, at least not a a fucking party. 

“Don’t,” you shook your head, holding up your hand. “It’s fine. We’ve all moved on.”

“I haven’t, I hurt you. I’ll always be sorry for that.” Diego knew how it looked. He led you on, which he did for his own benefit. But he truly did cherish you. All that hardships you two had shared together wasn’t for nothing. “Can you just let me explain?” He appeared remorseful, but you couldn’t fall for this again, he always looked remorseful. Even when he tried to apologize for that incident with Regina. 

“Some things are best left unsaid.” The last thing you wanted to do was talk about the past that you’ve tried so hard to bury. It didn’t seem like a big deal, but your life revolved around Diego for five years. After he got his patch, he didn’t exactly stop talking to you, he kept you around. You were his unofficial girl that never came into fruition. He would become jealous whenever another guy was around you. He would always reel you back in with sweet promises. To this day, you’re not sure why you let his sweet words get to you, but here you two were now. 

“No, it’s not, I fucked up.” Diego tried to talk to you. Everything fell apart when he fell for another woman. You guys were never official and if he was honest, he felt like a dick for keeping you around. He knew that he would be favored since he was close to Alvarez and Bishop’s niece. Was he a bastard? Absolutely, especially when he realized just how much you did for him. “I hurt you, you didn’t deserve that.”

You are tapping your foot now. Anxiety coursing through your veins. You were not ready to have this conversation even though you thought yourself to have moved on.

“Diego, please, it’s okay. Let’s not open back up old wounds.” You couldn’t even look at him. You were awful at confrontations and you tried to look anywhere but him. Where were Coco and Gilly? Where was EZ? Hell where was Angel?

“Look, I get it, but I think it would be best for both of us to try and get closure. I can’t keep avoiding you and I don’t want you walking on eggshells around me. You were my best friend and I took advantage of that.”

“Will told me that she left you. Is that why you’re speaking to me now?” You hated Regina. She was the one who basically put you on blast over your “annoying obsession” with Diego. You felt like a fool, especially since Diego didn’t do anything but watch. 

“You know that’s not it.” Diego said through gritted teeth forgetting how stubborn you could be. “That bitch has nothing to do with this.”

“She has everything to do with this.” You gnawed at your lip again, not liking the fact you said that. “Just please leave me alone, you’ve done a good job for three years, let’s just keep it that way.”

“You good sweetheart?” You heard Will Medina, the sergeant of arms at Stockton, asked from behind Diego. He was the only one who knew of your plight with Diego. Your tio’s former prospect who used to pick you up from school as one of his duties as a prospect. One of the hardest things to do was leave him, since he was like your pseudo older brother, but you had to go with your mother, just to get a chance of scenery. It was hard whenever you ran into Diego and Regina. 

“Will,” you greeted him warmly. “Yeah, we’re good, right Diegito?”

“For now,” Diego decided to let you go. He’ll try again. He wanted you back in his life. You didn’t belong in Santo Padre. You belonged in Stockton, with your family, with him. He was a bastard, but he was going to make it up to you. This wasn’t about Regina, this wasn’t about the club, this was about you two. 

Both men watched you walk into the clubhouse, not speaking till you were inside.

Medina shook his head, sighing at Diego. “She has a good life here Diegito, stay away. She’s happier here.”

“You know her, she’s good at masking her emotions.”

“And you think she’s hiding her unhappiness?”

“No, I just think she wants to come back home, but doesn’t want to because of Regina.”

“Whole world revolves around you, huh?” Medina knew that they may have been part of the reason why you didn’t want to come home, but he doubted that was the main reason. 

“You know that’s not what I meant, but her mother couldn’t stand the heat, she won’t be able to do so either.” At least Diego hoped you couldn’t. He wanted you back in his life, and he would make sure of it.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” Angel was standing up now. He saw your foot tapping and he was going to make his way over to you, but he saw Medina approaching. You didn’t even look his way when you made your way inside the clubhouse. 

“She really has never spoken to you about Diego?” Coco was surprised that Angel didn’t know about Diego. You were comfortable talking to him and Angel knew a few things, but you withheld a few things from Angel.

“Is that him?” He didn’t know who the fuck Diego was, but he would gladly beat his ass for you. The way your body language changed when EZ left you alone with Diego, it bothered Angel. 

“Yeah, look, I don’t want to step on things. She obviously told me in confidence and Gilly since she was drunk. You can ask her about it.” Coco didn’t want your business out in the open like that. Diego was a big part of your life.

“Coco, you’re my best friend. You’ve known how I felt about her and she apparently confided in you that she likes me, why didn’t you tell me?” It was burned in Angel’s memory that Coco knew everything. He wondered why Coco never said anything to him. They were best friends, brothers. 

“Because she was so afraid to tell you. I didn’t want to do it for her even if I knew how you felt about her. I encouraged her to tell you, but it’s due to her experience with Diego that she didn’t want to do it.”

“She liked him?”

“Fuck.” Coco closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He looked at the women around them. “Leave us.” They dispersed quickly, he didn’t need them gossiping about you. “Diego was her best friend, they became friends their senior year of high school. Once they graduated, Diego expressed his desire to prospect for the Mayans, but they didn’t take him. Using her connections, she somehow convinced Medina to sponsor him.” Coco lit up a cigarette and took a puff before continuing. “He treated her just like you did. He pretended to have feelings for her to keep her by his side even after he got his patch. A few years after he got his patch, a woman came and he fell for her. Bitch called Y/N out, saying that Diego will never have feelings for her and her obsession with Diego was annoying. He just watched as she berated her and after that, Y/N has stayed away from him. She was humiliated and broken apart since she thought Diego had feelings for her, but he didn’t.”

Angel sat back down then, upset at what he was hearing. Who the fuck did Diego think he was? He used you and couldn’t even defend you from a psychotic woman.

“How could Bishop and Alvarez let him patch?” Angel finally spoke up after a few minutes.

“Because she’s never told anyone. She cared about the guy regardless of his past indiscretions.” Gilly answered. “Fuck, I didn’t know all of that.”

“That’s why she thinks you’re just talking to her because of Bishop. That you were bestowed with the duty of being her bodyguard.” Gilly explained.

“I’m already a patch, and even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t fucking use her to get my patch.” Angel fumed.

“Hermano, calmate, that’s not what I meant.” Coco shook his head. “She knows who she is and who she’s connected to. It’s just her thinking that you stayed around her because of orders from prez. She just has a hard time separating the two due to being burned before.”

Angel felt like an asshole now. What he’s been doing, it basically cemented your thoughts about the whole situation. 

Angel was done with the games. He was going to show you that he was serious. Fuck Diego. He’ll show you how much you were worth it.

You were able to avoid Diego the rest of the night. You were also able to ignore Angel who for some reason decided he was going to talk to you now. The mixed signals and mood swings were too much. Thankfully he left early and you didn’t have to deal with him. He most likely brought a woman home, which you didn’t look forward to since he was your neighbor. 

That’s right.

You lived right next to Angel. 

It was opportunistic, but Angel had told Bishop that the apartment beside him was open. Better way for a Mayan to be close by to ensure your safety. 

Opening the door, you almost had a heart attack when you found Angel waiting for you at your apartment.

“Fuck! Angel, what the hell is the matter with you?” You closed the door behind you, taking a deep breath to calm your heart rate.

“You wouldn’t talk to me, so I figured I’d wait here.” Angel was smoking, sitting on your couch in silence. He looked so damn good. 

“Couldn’t you just have waited at your apartment?”

“Last time I waited at my apartment, I had to barge in here to make sure you weren’t going to fuck Damien.” You has dropped something, causing you to shriek. Angel thought you had come home with Damien, but in reality, you had been at your apartment the whole day and dropped a glass. Angel barged in anyway, looking around wildly to see if Damien was there. You haven’t exactly told anyone that Damien was no longer dating you.

“And as I’ve said before, I don’t know how that is any of your fucking business.” You’re not sure where this confidence came from, but it was here and you plan to utilize it.

“It is my fucking business, why wouldn’t it be?” Angel stood up, putting out his cigarette on the ashtray. “You doing okay?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” You walked past him, not wanting to be close to Angel right now. Taking off your jacket, Angel whistled at the shirt you were wearing, thankful you never took off your jacket. 

“Who was that guy at the clubhouse?” Angel came in here with the intention of having you tell him about Diego. He didn’t want to throw Coco under the bus.

“None of your business.” The last thing you wanted was to talk to Angel about Diego. The man who you thought would end up like him.

“Come on querida, I didn’t come here to fight. I’ve missed you. Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. He’s just an old friend from up north.” You gave him the cliff notes version of your relationship with Diego. This wasn’t Angel’s business anyway.

You went inside your room, closing the door hoping Angel would get the hint. You changed into some basketball shorts that you absolutely loved due to the comfort and a white shirt you had stolen from Angel during one of the times you slept over his home after a scary film, not wanting to be alone. Coming out of your room, you weren’t surprised that Angel was right outside of your door, what did surprise you was when he crashed his lips on yours, your eyes widening as he did. Before long, your eyes closed giving in to the kiss. How could you deny him? You’ve liked Angel for so long and now he was kissing you.

His hands slipped under your shirt, caressing your sides as he opened your mouth with his tongue. You sighed arching your back against him. 

Pulling away from you, you two were breathing hard, his head resting on your forehead. 

“I like you, Y/N.” He didn’t want to say the other L word yet, that might just scare you away. For now, he would settle with the word like.

“I like you too Angel.” You replied, kissing him one more time before pulling away.

“I know you’ve been burned before, but I won’t do that to you, I could never do that to you.” He began to walk as you walked backwards, your knees hit the edge of your bed causing you to sit down. “I want you, do you want me?”

Was this the right time to tell Angel you were still a virgin?

“Yes.”

Angel groaned, kissing you again as he laid you down on your bed. He hovered over you, making sure he didn’t put his weight on you. Pulling away, your lips chased after him making Angel chuckle. 

“I’ve been dreaming about this mi dulce,” he moved your shirt up, well his shirt, shivers running up your spine. You’ve never gotten this far with anyone. You’ve kissed people, but nothing like this. “Your skin is so fucking soft.” He assisted you on taking off your shirt, your bra was a deep shade of purple. “Purple’s my new favorite color.”

You became nervous then when Angel caressed your breast, softly squeezing it causing you to moan. You’ve never felt that sensation before, everything was so new to you.

“Angel, before we go any further, I have to tell you something.” You placed your hand on top of his, stopping his sinful ministrations. 

“What’s up baby?” Angel’s eyes were dilated, looking at you wish such desire.

“I’m a virgin.”

“You’re a what?” Angel gave you an incredulous look.

Before you could reply, there was a knock on your door. You two looked at one another, before you grabbed the shirt that Angel just discarded. You quickly made your way over to the door, embarrassed by Angel’s reaction. You were certain he would leave after that bombshell. 

Reaching to open the door, Angel pulled you back against his front, “I got it.” He informed you as he moved you behind him. He opened the door and your breath hitched when you saw Diego on the other side.

Diego’s face went from worried to anger in less than two seconds after his eyes landed on Angel.

“What the fuck is this?” He demanded.

“Diego, can I help you?” Angel further blocked you from Diego’s view, putting himself between you and Diego.

“Yeah, I need to talk to Y/N.” Diego straightened his form, trying to assert some type of dominance. But it wasn’t working on Angel. “So if you don’t mind, you can leave her with me.”

“Don’t think that’s going to happen. She’s my girl, you expect me to leave you all alone with her?” Angel scoffed. “What business do you have with her?”

“Your girl? She wasn’t with you a few hours ago. If I remember correctly, you had a whore sitting on your lap for a major part of the night.” Diego smirked. He wasn’t sure why the fuck Angel was here, but he wasn’t leaving till you two spoke.

Angel smirked. “I suggest you walk away before we have a problem here.”

“We already have one.”

Next thing you knew, Angel punched Diego on the face, tackling him to the ground. 

“Angel!” You yelled his name, trying to pull him away from Diego. “Stop it, come on, he’s not worth it.”

But he didn’t hear you. Angel continued to land shots on Diego’s face and body. But then Diego was able to hit Angel on his rib cage, knocking the air out of Angel. He turned them around, with Diego now landing the blows.

“Diego, please stop it!” You pleaded with him and tried to push him off Angel.

“Diego!” You heard Medina running towards you three, pulling off Diego from Angel. He came with Diego to assure that he could intervene when you became upset. He was smoking by his motorcycle when he heard the commotion.

Angel stood up, and was going to lunge for him again, but you wrapped your arms around him, trying your best to hold him back.

“Please stop, he’s not worth it.” 

Angel and Diego glared at one another. Diego was bleeding profusely from his lips while Angel had some blood coming out of his as well. His ribs hurt the most, but he had too much adrenaline coursing through his body. 

“Stay the fuck away from her.” Angel wanted one last time. Spitting out the blood that formed inside his mouth.

“Fuck you Reyes,” Diego snarled. “She can’t be yours when she’s always been mine!” Diego shouted back as Medina pulled him away. 

Angel led you back in your apartment, closing the door and locking it. You looked at him as he leaned against the door. 

“You didn’t have to hit him.” You crossed your arms across your chest.

“I know mi dulce, but he didn’t get the fucking hint.” Angel pushed off your door and walked over to you. “Why the fuck is Diego claiming you?” He knew what he was, but again he didn’t want to throw Coco under the bus. You walked away to the kitchen to get Angel a bag of frozen vegetables to put on his face. 

You gnawed at your lip as you handed him the bag. You knew you could trust Angel, you just didn’t know what to say. He was definitely your best friend once upon a time, but he proved that wasn’t the case. “We went to high school together and became close during senior year. He wanted to prospect for the Mayans and was rejected so I convinced Will to sponsor him. He became a patched member and nothing really changed. I always thought he had feelings for me because he acted as if he was my boyfriend. I always reasoned that he was protecting me or that we didn’t need the labels.” You pursed your lips, your arms crossed once again, but it looked more to Angel that you were holding yourself together. “I, I felt foolish, especially when his girlfriend called me out. It was his birthday and I came to his apartment with cake and his gift. I got him this new riding sunglasses that he had been eyeing for months.” You smiled sadly, trying your best to keep your tears at bay. “She threw my cake to the ground and told me that they were together, she berated me about my obsession with him and how he didn’t feel the same. That he kept me around since I was connected to Mayans royalty.” You looked up at Angel, his heart broke as he saw just how much it hurt you. Even after all these years and he couldn’t blame you. “Five years, I waited on him hand and foot thinking we would be together at the end, but instead I was the dumbass. I couldn’t stay there, it was the reason my mom moved to Santo Padre. Sure, she wanted to be closer to Tio Bishop, but it was due to me.”

Angel watched as your shoulder shook, head towards the ground. How could he do that to you? Use you and throw you away like a piece of trash? His blood boiled just thinking about how heartbroken you must have been to have that happened. It made sense why you kept him at arm's length at the beginning. You were very nice and cordial, but whenever he would try to get to know you, you would just excuse yourself. 

He walked over to you, lifting your face with his finger under your chin. “I would never do that to you. I get he hurt you and the mother fucker is going to pay. But you’re safe here with me. He’ll never be able to fool you again.” He wrapped his arms around you, letting you cry into his chest. Kissing the top of your head, he promised himself that he would do everything he could to make sure you never cried. The way his heart clenched as he just imagined you at Stockton, giving everything you had to a motherfucker who didn’t deserve it.

“I’m sorry,” you pulled away from Angel, wiping your eyes. “If you’re totally not interested in me anymore, I completely understand.” Who would want someone with baggage that involved one of his brothers? Though you were certain Angel never saw Diego in that way. 

Angel rolled his eyes, cupping your face and forcing you to look at him. “Listen I’m fucking here to stay. I’m not Diego, and all you have to do is let me prove it to you. Querida, I like you, why won’t you let me take you out and show you a good time?” Angel wasn’t even sure when he’ll find the time with everything going on, but he’ll make time, for you he would.

“Okay.” You grinned.

=================

Medina pulled Diego to the side, shaking his head. “Haven’t you done enough damage?” He pushed Diego, smacking him upside the head. “We had a deal. I agreed to let you come if you stayed the fuck away from her.” Medina knew he should have never let Diego come. He was too persistent for him to not do anything. 

“I have to get her back.” Diego spat out the blood in his mouth. “I know we had a deal, but when I saw her, I couldn’t help myself. I miss her.”

“I don’t give a fuck. You fucked up. Just because the pussy you gave her up for left you, doesn’t mean you should disrupt her life.” Medina has his hands on his hips, watching as Diego sat on the floor collecting his breath. 

“I love her.”

“No you fucking don’t. You romanticized her because of her connection to Bishop and Padrino, but she’s more than that. She fucking did everything for you and what did you do? Break her fucking heart. You don’t love her, you just missed how she waited on you hand and foot.” Medina scoffed. “Stay the fuck away.” He warned. He never told Bishop or Padrino, but maybe it was time to do it now.

“I listened to you once and I’m not going to stay away. You can’t tell me how I feel about her. I know what I feel regardless of my past indiscretions.” Diego stood up then, spitting on the ground once more and dusting off his clothing. 

“Angel would never let you near her.” Medina knew of Angel’s liking towards you due to Bishop. He kept him updated since Medina had been around you for years. 

“He won’t always be with her, after all, I’m gonna be here for the next few months.” Diego smirked. 

“What?” Medina was confused. What the fuck was he on?

“Santo Padre is down a man, they need someone to fill in, so I volunteered.”

“Diego, this is a bad fucking idea.” 

“She was mine first and once I treat her like how she deserves to be treated, show her how much I love her, she’ll come back to me.” 

Medina knew that wasn’t going to be the case. 

Angel wouldn’t let that happen. 

He had to make sure Angel wouldn’t let that happen.

[aotopmha]

I have a whole bunch of AoT shipping asks ranging from neutral to angry to looking for validation and I'm so tired of this stuff.

Counter to this wierd trend about how the final arc of the series is trash because Eren turned out to be an "embarrassing loser", I think there is a whole bunch to talk about in there that isn't about shipping.

(If you like shipping and are a decent person, cool, but I'm just tired and frustrated with the bad parts of it.)

The whole damn point of this series for the longest time for me has been that none of the characters are "cool".

They're all fucking losers. Kind of like real people.

Why does shit like psychics and flat earth theory still have followers to this day, even gaining popularity in these recent years? Why don't people just overcome their prejudice for other races? Why do people stay in unhealthy relationships?

Why doesn't that suicidal person just start loving themselves again?

I think this irrationality is the main aspect of humanity AoT wants to highlight.

I see people looking in from the outside being mystified by these "irrational" decisions done by people all the time. People laugh at and mock these "stupid" behaviours while perhaps not being able to recognise they themselves might have similar ones.

For a personal example, I always think about people who are angry at animal cruelty, but then pretty casually eat beef, pork or chicken, the production of which often entails a lot of animal cruelty.

For an even stronger personal example that kind of source of frustration for me comes from people who claim their perspective is objective. What makes that particular person the arbiter of all truth?

But going back to AoT, Erwin might be a genius tactician, but he's a human being still affected by his personal experiences and perspective. He hates himself for all of the deaths he has caused so all of his most desparate tactics are going to involve self-harm.

There is a very large difference between emotional intelligence and tactical intelligence.

I think this is Zeke's flaw, too. He is smart when it comes to tactics, but in turn is heavily affected by his personal need of connection and validation. The potential kinship he could find with Eren was the determining factor of his strategy and so were his relationships with Grisha and Xavier, not what the most logical option was.

This is what I think tearing Eren's mask away in the final chapter brought full circle and I think is the most interesting aspect of the story I'm left with after its end.

It tore away Eren's dignity and was embarrassing and stupid, but I think that was the point and because this kind of behaviour is viewed as childish, stupid and hard to watch, it destroyed a lot of (lady) boners. That's not comfy or escapism. It's not the specific kind of narrative that has some conflict, but never really veers into the uncomfortable.

Eren's flaws aren't a slap on the wrist. He is a loser. Period.

I think the aspect of Eren being exhausted came out the most in the anime for me and as I've read the final chapter so many times now, I get much more exhaustion from Eren than anything else.

He is exhausted and desparate and Armin tries everything in his power to change his mind and try to reach Eren. But because Even has grown so strong and is so set in his ways, there is nothing he can do but make the best of his situation.

Hence the now infamous line of thanking Eren for doing something horrible for them. I think the biggest nuance any analysis of that scene misses is that it's Armin accepting he can't change Eren. I get a very strong "if that's how it is, so be it" vibe from that scene. He can't change Eren, but he wants a good closure with him.

I think what a lot of people also don't consider is that again, I don't think any of the characters truly comprehend the scale of what is happening.

I think a lot about people who still deny the existence of Covid-19 even this far in the pandemic and I think many people will only truly comprehend the extent of it when they or someone they care about is affected by it and even then this is even worse when you don't really have time to digest everything that is happening. I don't think Hange's death or the death of Shadis really reached anyone even by the end of the battle because boy were these a busy few days.

I think we had a similar thing happen with the Reiner and Bert reveal. Annie's reveal and the reveal of Bert and Reiner basically happened on the same day and I think that matters however small of adetail that might be.

Same for the fact that the return to Shiganshina was a few hours at most.

All of this can be just handwaved as bad writing. All of it. But that kind of stuff bores me.

So whenever I analyse stuff, I do my best to be fair and assume the best out of a story and its writer.

So I got the most out of AoT's ending philosophically because I think the what if it presented is fascinating.

If you had to choose between you and your country and the rest of the world, what would you do?

I think in AoT's case, there was a small window of time in which patience would've solved everything, but Eren didn't have the perspective to go that way because of various factors, largely the basement memories.

But if you were put in the same circumstances without any kind of outside perspective, would you make a better choice than this?

It's so easy to say you could've done better when you can see the bigger picture.

But if you had the choice pushed on you without any context and without that bigger picture, what then?

The irrationality and stupidity of the characters is what makes AoT interesting to me.

I think when Isayama talked about whiny Eren "being back" he didn't mean it in a condescending manner. I think he likes that irrational and embarrassing Eren.

But the fact that it is willing to have its characters be that way to an extreme degree is I think what also causes alienation and removes some people's ability to empathise with the story and instead be frustrated with it, let down by it and being unable to connect with it.

It's just a fascinating piece of media for me and if there is anything, any piece of media that makes human irrationality as a big part of it, I'm all ears.

I think human irrationality has to be a part of any story. It's called characters having flaws, but if that's the exclusive, overwhelming focus, I'm right there day one and the truth is, I haven't seen many stories like that.

[little-wicked10]

Fragile (Unamed OFC x Negan)

Summary: It’s not everyday the devil meets a woman he wants to be gentle for.

Warnings: SMUT!!!, cursing, mentions of smut, mentions of sexual assault

Her life before the sanctuary she wants to forget. It was a time when she was more afraid of the group she was with more than the walkers. The Saviors had found her hidden away in the back of a truck, terrified, and shaking like a leaf. When Simon lent out a hand to help her out of the truck, she cowered. None of the men that had taken over the small camp could understand why she feared such a small gesture, but she did. The men in her group assaulted her. There was never a night when she was safe from their rough and invading touches. Dirty and drunk words would be slurred in her face as they roughly pawed at her body. 

There were nights where she had wished they would rape her and leave her for dead; to finally get it over with and let her die. Life wasn't worth living anymore when you had been violated in both mind and body. She'd begged them once to end her suffering, but her pleas were only met with laughter and the explanation that she wasn't worth the energy it would take to take their belts off. She had lost hope after that, even after she was being rescued there was still no hope left in her body that she'd would ever feel whole again. 

This fragile girl caught the attention of the leader of the Sanctuary upon arrival. Her natural beauty is what he noticed second about this young woman. She feared that caught his attention. An aura of something dark lingered around her. For him, it's easy to write it off as a fragile mind traumatized by the new world order, but how he would come to be so wrong.

When a man in a leather jacket gave her the option to marry him or work for points, she didn't know what to do. Negan wanted her to be a wife. Besides her being smoking hot, he knew she wouldn't be able to work for points with her veering away from men so easily. 

"Listen, honey. I'm gonna be straight with ya. There isn't a job in this place that you could do to earn enough points to feed yourself. That makes you a target to some not-so-friendly guys that are walking around with a constant hard-on," he blatantly admitted as he sat behind a metal table. Her teeth gnawed on her bottom lip, most likely about to bleed from the nervous habit. 

"Now I don't tolerate rape or mistreating women in my Sanctuary. With you, I'd rather not run the risk. Here's my offer. Marry me, and you will never have to worry about any man rubbing up on ya that you don't want to," he bargained.

She looked at him with fearful eyes, "B-but that means that you can…."

He quickly cut her off, "I don't touch a woman that doesn't wanna be touched. If you marry me, you can lounge around all the livelong day. I'd just have you around to look at somethin' pretty, but don't tell anyone else that."

"W-why are you o-offering me this?" her voice unintentionally shook.

Negan looked at the woman head to toe, carefully overseeing her entire demeanor before speaking, "Because I know you've seen shit. I don't like seein' pretty girls like yourself scrounging around for points. I keep women safe in this joint."

After that meeting, they never spoke again. She agreed, and her life began as Negan's new wife.

—

It had been months, and Negan kept his promise. She never saw him unless he was picking a wife for the night or showcasing his harem to some recruits. No one knew of the traumas she had faced except her. She had no friends and kept to herself. The other wives spoke ill of her, but she didn't care for their catty nature or false accusations. The depression and anxiety that rattled in her mind kept her isolated, but it didn't keep her from observing her so-called husband. 

Any time she's around him, she watched him. How he carried himself with such self-confidence and dirty humor. His over the top personality was frightening and intriguing to her all at once. Negan came off as an asshole, but it often became overshadowed by the memory of his words he'd said to her on their first meeting.

'I keep women safe in this joint.'

As far as she'd seen, he stood true to his word. She'd heard the stories from the other wives of Negan's cruel punishment for those that been caught in the act of hurting women. Information that should've frightened her, gave her a strange feeling. A feeling that hadn't been felt in some time. Safe.

—

On a particular night walking through the halls of the sanctuary, she'd heard something strange. Ragged breaths. She knew that sound and listening to it made her want to run away and hide. She about turned away when the sound of a familiar voice growling a very familiar cuss word pierced the breathing. It was Negan's voice. Logic told her to get the hell out of there, but curiosity began to lead her feet towards the door. 

She's crazy for wanting to see what's happening, who he's with, what he's doing even though it frightened her to no end to see such intimacy. The door was cracked open with dim light pouring out into the hallway. Upon peeking in, she could see clothes scattered everywhere: heels, a black dress, dark jeans, and a leather jacket; a symbol of power throughout the surrounding areas.

Her eyes fall upon a scene unlike any she's seen. A woman, who she thinks was named Sherry, kneeled and bent over a couch with Negan behind her thrusting deep and powerful. Her nerves appeared and she gnawed on her bottom lip, brain processing exactly what was happening. Never before had she seen Negan like this. He's so…powerful and dominating. It frightened her at the same time that she almost wished that was her. 

The dirtiest and filthiest words poured from Negan's mouth as he yanked Sherry's hair back, his mouth pressed against her ear. The anxiety began to creep its way into her body, but she couldn't bear to look away from the spectacle that was Negan having sex with one of his wives. For how much Sherry said she despised Negan, she seemed to love this side of him. The truth became clear: saving Dwight wasn't the only reason Sherry married Negan. The wives often talked about Negan's ferocious appetites for sex. A lot of how he fucked not made love to his wives, but she didn't believe it until now. 

"Fuck! Take daddy's cock, baby!" Negan growled.

Sherry responded with a moan.

Negan knew she was watching. He'd seen her figure appear in the cracked door and decided to put on a little show for the wife he hadn't touched. He planned to show her what she was missing out on. Negan let loose the dirtiest things he could think of before he finally let it be known he knew she was there. Negan made eye contact with her and continued to fuck the brains out of Sherry. It didn't register with her that they were staring into each other's eyes until ten seconds later. The ego boost he felt in the moment made a smirk adorn his face and throw a devious wink her way before going back to work. 

After that wink, she quickly ran away back to her room. So many feelings and emotions filled her being at what she'd just seen. Flashes of memories mixed with images of Negan fucking Sherry swirled in her head. Confusion plagued her the rest of the night causing her to be restless. She was afraid to sleep. Afraid that what she'd seen would trigger nightmares. Afraid to stay awake for fear of still hearing Negan's moans and them turning into the men's she despised. The last thing she wanted was for Negan to be like those men. Logic told her he wasn't, but the irrationality of her anxieties told her he could be. By the time the sun had risen through her window, she'd come to a conclusion: She did want Negan. She's just afraid of what might happen if she gives in.

—

"Well, my little peepin' tom, did you enjoy the show last night?" A deep voice whispered in her ear. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she whipped around, and her husband stood before her with a mischievous smirk on his face and his hands clasped behind his back. A blush of embarrassment spread from her face down her neck. 

Her stammering words trying to find an explanation were halted by his words, "Come with me. We need to have a talk, dear wife." 

All the wives in the room watched with utter shock as Negan led her out of the parlor. He'd never chosen her since she'd arrived. She'd most likely be interrogated by them when she got back….if she came back. The silence was almost unbearable the entire walk to Negan's room. He kept a chirper and amusing atmosphere, but stories had warned her that, that mood could change very quickly. She didn't know how Negan felt about her invading his private time with one of his wives, especially his favorite.

Negan opened the door to his room for her before walking in after her and shutting it, silently turning the lock. "Now what do you have to say for yourself, little missy? Sneakin' around late at night and spyin' on me havin' an intimate moment with one of my wives," his voice was unusually amused. She began to shake, unable to conjure up why she'd peeked in on him with Sherry. Negan watched as she stared down at her feet and bit her lower lip. He took note of her shaking hands clasped together and the tears threatening to pour down her cheeks. 

"Hey now. No cryin'," he came closer to her and placed her chin between his thumb and pointer finger so she'd look him in the eye, "I just wanna know what you were doin', baby. I ain't gonna punish ya." 

Hazel eyes stared into her soul. Confused feelings made her more afraid. She calmed down knowing he wasn't going to punish her for eavesdropping, but there was still the underlying feeling that something else was about to happen.

"Because I think…you want a little freaky deeky. Am I right?" he assumed.

Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out, just stuttering. 

"I think I'm right. That lil' pussy get wet last night seeing me go buck wild on Sherry?" he was unaware of the dangerous waters he was treading with her, "You want daddy to take care of it?"

She hadn't noticed he'd backed her up against the door until her back hit the hardwood. One of his hands began to wander with much dominance and aggression that was all too familiar in a terrible way. Pure, unadulterated fear gripped her being, making her lock up against him. His smile suddenly wasn't charming, it was terrifying. Memories flashed in her head. Their voices, their disgusting breath, their touches. It was becoming too much. 

"P-please…d-don't," was all she could manage to say. 

Negan froze, hand disappearing from her body in an instant. The gravity of her tears had a new meaning. Before, he thought they were tears of fear that she might be in trouble, but he realized they were tears of trauma. He moved away from her body slightly, giving her room to breathe. She released a shaky breath.

"What did those men do to you, sweetheart?" He finally asked.

Silence.

"Tell me," he demanded.

This was the first time someone had asked her, or cared enough to ask, what happened. She didn't believe that he cared, but the worry on his features told her otherwise. "They touched me. Said awful things to me. Made me suffer," she whispered. There was suddenly relief in her chest. Not much of one. It was slight. As if speaking it into reality, to someone that cared, began her journey to healing. She felt like she could finally speak. Now was her chance to say everything. She didn't want to lose the momentum she felt. Negan suddenly felt like a huge piece of shit. He should have known better. 

"Negan,…I know I'm not exactly…whole, but you make me feel safe. You don't want anything from me. You don't want to force yourself on me. Y-you care, in your own way, for my well-being," she admitted, "Which is why…I do want you, but you probably won't want me because I can't give you what you want."

"And what do I want, sweetheart?" he asked, a bit stunned with her confidence to admit all of this.

Her blush made him want to smile, "What you had done with Sherry. I don't want that. I'm terrified of doing stuff like that. The girls say that you don't…do slow. That you just fuck."

Negan rolled his eyes at the mention of the dumb idle talk of his wives, but there was some truth. He hadn't taken it slow with anyone in a long time. A violent world made a man want the same in bed. Negan sighed before taking a good look at her. He could tell the words were genuine. Not ones she managed to conjure up to tell him no. 

"I want you to touch me, but....not like they did," she added. 

He'd be damned if that little statement didn't warm his heart and tickle his balls all at once. 

"Are you sure, darlin'? You know I ain't about forcing women to do what they don't wanna do," he stated very clearly. 

"Yes. I'm sure. You'll just have to be patient with me," she said with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood a bit. 

Negan chuckles a bit, "I'm the one you're gonna have to be patient with. I ain't use to this whole slow thing."

"You mean....you're gonna try?" her voice was small but hopeful. 

"I will do my very best, doll," he reassures. 

Once again, her teeth found purchase of her bottom lip as she waited for something to happen. Negan had to reassess his approach. His previous one wasn't the way to go with her. He swallowed the lump in his throat and quietly approached her again. His rough calloused hand gently stroked her cheek before traveling very slowly down her body to secure itself on her hip. The rise and fall of her chest told him she's nervous, but her reassuring nod and slightly shaking hands coming to rest on his shoulders told him that she's ok with what was happening. 

Negan grasped both his hands on her hips and gently brought her against his chest. Small arms wrapped around his neck, their lips an inch apart now. His breath tickled her cheeks until finally, chapped lips met soft ones in a very cautious and gentle kiss. A spark ignited in her body upon feeling his kiss and his hard body pressed against hers. It was one that she hasn't felt for some time. She assumed it had been extinguished long ago. 

One of his hands came up and pressed against her lower back to bring her body flush against his. The other threaded into her hair, not daring pull a strand until he hears some sort of approval. Negan was used to taking control and being rewarded with very satisfied women, but in this small woman's case, he was going in blind. For the first time in a while, Negan was hesitant in his actions. 

"You can move a little faster. If you want," she whispered. 

Negan smirked against her lips, "Don't wanna go too fast for ya, honey." 

She nodded, small voice approving a slightly faster pace. The sudden courage surprised even herself. Negan took the advice and carefully picked her up, making her wrap her legs around his waist so he could walk towards the bed. His boots thumped against the wood floor until he finally stopped at the foot of the bed, gently setting her down.

The innocent and fearful look in her eyes made him want to go beat those soulless sons of bitches that hurt her. They'd hurt her to the point that a mother fucker like him made her feel safe. It didn't feel right for this to be real, but it was. Negan was brought out of his trance when he noticed she'd taken her shoes off and was starting to unzip her dress. A large hand around her wrist made her stop and become fearful that she'd done something wrong. "Let me do that," he ordered. A silent nod was his only reply before he slowly got down on his knees. She felt his callused hand take her right leg, slowly going up her calf before letting his lips follow the path he'd just made. 

Goosebumps appeared on her skin as his salt and pepper scruff scratched against her skin. Negan's other hand gently pushed against her abdomen, signaling her to lay down. Following his silent instruction, she gently laid back and let him do as he wished. A terrifying thought she quickly chased away with focusing on the feeling of his lips that were now on the inside of her thigh. As he alternated to kissing her other thigh, his hands began to push the skirt of her dress up. Sudden warm breath against her covered center made her shiver, and Negan smirked with approval.

'Such a slut for us, aren't you?!?'

Muscles tensed and tears pricked in her eyes, trying to close her legs at the memory. With Negan stuck between them, it wasn't possible. "P-please don't do that," she shook as her words trembled, "T-they use to bite me. M-make me b-bleed and hurt." Negan contained his growl of anger. How could someone treat a woman like this? The gentle call of her name made her look at him. 

"Darlin', I'm not gonna do that. I promise it'll feel good," he reassured. Her white-knuckling the sheets told him she didn't believe him. 

"Trust me," he whispered, slowly running his hands up and down her legs. Her grip relaxing on the sheets gave him the go-ahead. Negan knew he wasn't the most patient man in the world, but he didn't expect every ounce of it to disappear once he took her panties off. The sight of her glistening and spread out for him sent a primal hunger straight to his mouth and dick. 

"Good God, woman," he groaned, "I've seen a lot of good pussy in my day, but this takes the cake."

He noticed her cringe a bit, and he silently cursed himself. Bad Negan.

To rectify his mistake, Negan gave her center a kitten lick. Hot damn did she taste divine. He did it again on the outer part of her clit, and she gasped as he growled at the taste. How he would love to dive in and just make her cum over and over again. His patience was wearing thin, but he didn't want to hurt her so he took her hands in his. 

"Darlin'," he took her hands in his before urging her to grab onto his slicked-back locks, "You got control. Yank me around if ya like." 

She looked a bit confused but rolled with it as his tongue made full contact with her center. She cried out at the foreign yet pleasurable sensation that came from his slow and painstaking devouring of her sticky sweet pussy.

His moan vibrated against her and added to the pleasure. Her whimpers, moans, and mewls motivated him to keep going. He hadn't noticed he'd sped up to a pace that frightened her until she hissed and tugged at his hair. He pulled back a bit but went ahead with his idea of teasing her leaking entrance with a finger. The feel of her hips at first moving away from his impending intrusion made him reassure her that he would take care of her. The reassurance made her relax against him, legs opening slightly to allow him more room to work. When he finally penetrated her with his middle finger, he cussed out loud at how her walls gripped him tightly. 

"Christ, baby," he groaned, taking a breather himself to keep from just standing up and fucking her brains out. 

She knew she was asking a lot of him to do this for her, to quiet the beast in him and try something different. Her walls burned at first when he began to finger her, but his mouth lapped at her clit and suddenly the whole thing felt amazing. Whines and whimpers escaped her lips that were better than any pornstar Negan had ever heard. He roughly shoved a second finger in her with great ferocity. The great pain Negan felt in his scalp told him his action was not welcomed. 

Unfortunately, the pain mixed with the taste of her on his tongue only made his jeans more uncomfortable than they already were and increased the desire to do what HE wanted. Her whimpers of pain were what made him slap himself mentally. "Gotta bear with me, doll. I'm really tryin'," he grunted out, hooking his fingers up suddenly and coming into contact with her g-spot. The fingers locked his in hair suddenly went flying to grasp the sheets as her back and hips arched. Negan's chuckle was heard over her panting. 

He stood up, fingers still locked in her, and leaned over her, "Never had a man find that spot, baby? Tell me, how's it feel?" 

A strained moan was the response he got, her mind too focused on trying to comprehend the amount of pleasure-pain she was feeling. The pad of his fingers started to slowly stroke her little spot, and her legs began to shake as she grabbed a tight hold of the lapel of his leather jacket. 

When his hand began to speed up, her small fingers wrapped around his wrist, "E-easy. P-please." 

Negan nodded, "Alright, alright." 

He could feel her walls fluttering around his fingers, but she wasn't quite there yet. With the lick of his bottom lip, Negan pressed his thumb against her clit, and the reaction was instantaneous. Her whole body shook as she nearly screamed, both hands grabbing a tight hold of him and legs closing around his hand to keep him from leaving her depths. Stars exploded behind her eyes and tremors racked her body. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that she'd ever feel something so...amazing. What helped her come back to earth was the feeling of Negan's lips delicately kissing along her face and neck. 

"C'mon back, doll," he whispered, lightly (very lightly) nibbling on her ear lobe. 

Her body went slack against his and released his hand so he could gently remove his fingers from her quivering pussy. Normally, he'd let his women suck his fingers clean while he praised them with all matters of dirty and filthy words, but he opted to get another taste of her sweet honey. The taste made him groan in satisfaction. 

Negan felt her warm hands trail down his chest and then under his shirt, "Wanna feel you." 

There was no response. He stood up, his warmth leaving the side of her body he was laid against and began to take his clothes off. When he had pulled his shirt off, she sat up. Her post-orgasm look was one he'd file away in his brain for a later jerk off session. Hands explored his chest. She lightly touched his faded tattoos, going over all his muscles before allowing her hands to go around his waist and feel his tense back muscles. Her lips connected with his neck and her fingers delicately traced the muscles, a way of trying to calm down the beast that made his chest rise and fall rapidly. Negan took this opportunity to unzip her black dress, making her pull away from his body so he could pull it over her head and off. 

"Goddamn," Negan bit into his lip as he felt his hands, and dick, twitch at the sight of her completely naked before him. 

She instantly hid her body from his hungry eyes. 

Negan took her hands and removed them, "Ain't nothin' to be ashamed of, baby. You got a super hot body!"

His cheeky remark made her giggle slightly.

"There's a smile. You know you don't gotta do this if you don't wanna, darlin'. I'd understand," he reassured.

She shook her head, "I want this. I want you."

Even though she was frightened, the idea of Negan claiming her in the most intimate way possible made her feel so much different than before she had walked into this room. The fear was slowly being replaced with a warmer feeling. A feeling of safety and wholeness. Being in this room, with him, in this fortress made her feel safer than she had in a long time. Negan directed her to travel farther up the bed and lay down. As she did, she watched him crawl his way from the bottom of the bed to hovering over her body, jeans completely abandoned on the floor. When she looked down at his manhood, she gulped. 

He must have heard it because he chuckled, "I know what you're thinking. Yes, it'll fit. No, I haven't torn a woman in half…yet." 

She giggled but still felt nervous. Negan leaned down and kissed her gently, trying to distract her from her thoughts. Her fingers wove into his thick locks as one of his hands brought her leg to meet his hip. His dick laid against her womanhood. The animalistic groan that left his chest was downright sinful. The feeling of her warm wet center against his throbbing dick was heavenly. The rut of his hips against hers made her whimper. Negan wanted to ram himself home and fuck her into oblivion. He knew he could make her cum over and over again, but that would earn him a one-way ticket to the dog house. He'd feel like shit if he treated her like some piece of ass.

This one was different. Negan didn't know why. Never in all his days did someone so fragile and delicate come to him for safety. This was the first woman in a very, very, VERY long time that made him want to change, even if it was for the night. When she gripped his dick in her hand and placed it at her entrance, Negan nearly lost his cool. He growled, but stopped his hips from ramming at full force. 

“Gotta warn a guy, doll, before you go around grabbin’ dicks,” he chuckled.

She blushed and released him. 

“Gonna take this slow now,” he said.

She nodded and let him take the lead once again. Negan wasn’t a religious man, but he prayed he’d still have a shred of control when he got inside her. The moment of truth...grasping his dick, he started to push in. Her whimpers were accompanied by her legs tightening around him. He knew she was tight but not this tight. Negan’s grunts and groans were directly in her ear as he pushed in more and more. The sudden clench of her inner muscles and cry of pain made him come to a staggering and breathless halt. He was definitely gonna lose control. 

“Baby, you wanna be on top? I don’t wanna hurt you, and I’ll lose my grip if I keep goin’ like we are,” Negan grunted. 

The idea made her nervous, “I don’t know.” 

Maybe she was asking too much of him?

“I’ll help you out,” Negan started to shift, pulling out of her gently and laying on his back before putting her over his lap. 

She seemed a bit awkward as she was hovered over him. His hands gently ran up her body and back down to her hips, a comforting reassurance that everything would be fine. Negan took the time to help her ease down on to him. He held his dick still as she took her time to slowly push him inside of her. Her face contorted in pain as his tip stretched her open. 

She went a little bit further down onto his dick before stoping and whining in pain. “Hey. Just breathe,” Negan encouraged, he himself having trouble continuing with his tip being squeezed in a death grip, “You take what you can, baby. Hell, I’d be fine with just watching you fuck yourself on my tip if that’s all you want.” She could tell he was trying to lighten the mood and help ease her mind. She knew she needed to relax.

With the way her body was so tense, it was going to hurt even worse. Her body craved for more of his touch while feared it all at once. Negan was surprised when he watched her start to take more of him, her inner muscles a little more relaxed. He moaned as her very tight warm walls encompassed him more and more. The grip on her hips was definitely going to leave bruises. 

“Breathe, beautiful,” Negan urged as she continued to let herself be stretched. The urge to rush herself for fear of upsetting Negan plagued a part of her thoughts, but she pushed past it when suddenly he bottomed out inside her. Never in her entire life had she felt so stretched and so full. 

Negan’s head fell back and he tightened his grip on her hips, “Oh my….fuuuck!” She was tight. She was tighter than most of the women he’s been with. How long had it been since this woman had sex? Or, had she even had sex before? He looked back at her face and could tell she was struggling with the feeling she was feeling. “Am…am I hurting you?” She stuttered. Negan let out a breathy chuckle, “Hell nah, baby. You’re just so tight around my god damn dick.” 

She let out a curt giggle, placing her hands on his abdomen and trying to find some relief to the pressure she felt. Negan reacted quickly by letting his fingers work wonders on her sensitive clit. Her hips bucked making her cry out. Her over sensitivity from her first orgasm and the overwhelming feeling of being full had her arching her back. “There ya go, baby. Negan’s gotcha. Just take your time,” he kept reassuring her. 

It didn’t take long for his fingers to coax her into moving, her body seeking out the pleasure it was craving. Negan could hear her holding in moans and small whimpers as her body began to find a rhythm. This little woman was doing wonders to his body. HIs dick was trapped in the warmest, tightest, wettest hug, and his eyes couldn’t stop looking at the little minx in his lap. It was better than porn. Pressing his rough thumb more into her clit made her whimper out and arch her back once again.

“Am I makin’ ya feel good, sweetheart?” his eyes dark with lust.

She nodded.

“Nuh uh. Use your words. I gotta hear ya,” he encouraged.

“Yes, Negan, yes!” she moaned while biting her bottom lip. 

Suddenly she felt an overwhelming feeling. It was so intense and unfamiliar that she stopped her movements. Negan saw her fall from the precipice of probably the best orgasm she’s had and took action. “Oh hell no,” Negan suddenly flipped her over and gently hovered over her, “Baby, I’m about to give her the best pleasure you’ve ever felt.” Her eyes were a little fearful but it was quickly drowned out when she saw the genuine look in his eyes. She trusted him. 

Negan took it as the go ahead and began thrusting into her, quickly bringing her back to the edge of bliss. Just as he expected, her body began to writhe against his to get away but he held her stead fast in place. “I-it’s too much!” she cried. Negan gently shushed her as he continued his thrusts and then quickly moved his fingers down and rubbed her clit. 

It was as if the earth shattered for a moment. Legs shook, nails clawed into his back, and eyes rolled into the back of her head as the most mind blowing orgasm washed over her. Negan couldn’t hold it any longer and let himself drown in the pleasure and release into her. The feel of her nails dug into the skin and muscles of his back mixed with her quivering walls was all he could take. A shiver ran through him as the last of his seed was in her and he became spent. 

When he had finally caught his breath a bit, he began to check on her. Her eyes were closed and her chest was heaving. She wasn’t quite back to earth yet. “You ok, darlin’?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” she panted.

“Glad I didn’t lose ya,” he chuckled.

She attempted to chuckle but it came out as more panting. 

He took his time pulling out of her overly sensitive walls and took it upon himself to get a warm rag and a glass of water for his spent wife. Returning from the bathroom, he found her still laid in the position he left her. Setting the glass aside, he gently placed the cloth against her center, but she quickly jerked, clearly too sensitive. He continued his task at cleaning up the mess he made of her and placing her under the covers.

It was rare that Negan was at a loss for words, but he found himself unable to say anything. The moment they had just shared was absolutely something else entirely. Slipping into his own bed beside her felt strange. He felt as if he should have said something, but what should he say? On the other side of the bed, she was having the same dilemma. Her brain was a bit fuzzy at the moment, but she’d never been in this position before. She was so use to being used. Her brain was having a hard time comprehending whether what just happened was good or not. 

It felt better than good. Nothing in a very long time had felt even close to that. Then why was she scared that this was bad? She had let him have his way with her, be inside her. She had lain with him intimately, an act she had once swore to herself she’d never do. That there was no one in the world she could trust enough to be that intimate with, and yet here she was. Her thoughts were interrupted by a pair of arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. Her body was too weak to protest or even tense against Negan as he cuddled her. She felt his fingers delicately moved her messy hair aside to lay a sweet kiss on her temple. 

“I hope this is ok,” he whispered.

She smiled a little, “It’s ok. I like cuddling.”

He smiled and kissed her again.

“Negan,” she whispered.

“Hm?” He answered, sleepiness beginning to take hold of him.

“Put a hickey on me,” she suddenly said.

Negan went a bit stiff and looked at her. Did she really just ask him to do that?

“Please,” she opened her neck to him more, “So people know not to touch me.”

Her pleading voice touched his heart strings. She wanted everyone to know what they had done. She wanted them know what they couldn’t do to her, that he was the only one with the privilege to do anything like this to her. He obliged. His mouth lightly fell upon her neck, delicately kissing his before latching his mouth onto the skin. She hissed and wound her fingers into his hair as his teeth nipped at her flesh. The slight pain of his mouth mixed with his scruff was a feeling she needed to remember for if they ever did this again.

After a few moments, Negan pulled away to see a large hickey in the shape of his mouth appearing on her neck. His mark was on her physically. It wasn’t permanent, but it was sure to be there for some time. Her fingers released his hair and touched her wet skin where the bruise was forming. Once she was finished inspecting her skin, she turned and nuzzled into his chest, fingers lightly playing with his chest hair. 

Trapped in an embrace, the two lovers fell asleep with a strange warm and hopeful feeling washing over them both. 

[legendofzelda4life]

Destruction

Wassup ya’ll? Time for day 17 (i think)

Today I present some platonic Wild and Time fluff

Let’s get into it.

Also some things might be in brackets or asterisks and that’s because I forgot to italicise or bold them

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Time and Wild had recently been separated from the rest of the group.

They were currently in Wild’s Hyrule.

“What do we do?” Time asked. Wild shrugged. “This is a moment I regret giving my slate to Four.” He had indeed given his slate to the hero of four. Sure, it mightn’t’ve been the best idea but, hey?

The kid was interested.

“Haven’t you explored this place?” Wild gestured his arms around. “We’re literally in the Hebra Mountains, Gerudo Highlands, Mount Hylia, Mount Lanayru, Mount Granajh, or atop the Duelling Peaks - given that one’s unlikely - but that’s still like six places, Time!”

“Jeez there’s a lot of snow in your Hyrule.” “I know. It sucks. But all we can do is head in a direction and hope we don’t run into trouble.” Wild said. “Trouble?” Time asked with a small smirk. “Look, if we do encounter trouble, just say back. I don’t want you to get hurt. Without you I’m sure Twilight would be driven to madness.” WIld laughed as he spoke.

“Alright fine. But which way should we go?” Wild looked around at an attempt to answer Time’s question. “How about that way?” Wild pointed north and Time shrugged. “Sure.”

Given, travelling north from any of those places was a bad idea but that’s just Wild’s middle name.

“Boko camp ahead.” Wild said, pulling out a royal broadsword and his Hylian shield.

“That sword looks like it’s about to break.” Wild shrugged at Time’s words. “They have more.” He said before dashing into the camp.

He moved quickly, switching from sword to bow and back again in split-second timeframes. 

It was impressive.

“Alright, they’re gone!” Wild called from the top layer. Time walked up, passing gemstones, monster remains, rupees, and weapons. He left them all as he walked. Wild killed them, he can have the stuff.

“Wanna burn it?” Wild asked, looking at a campfire.

Time smiled.

“Don’t tell the boys about this but…”

Time pulled out his own boy and equipped fire arrows.

Wild gasped mockingly.

“Wow. You can have fun.” He said with a laugh.

The two boys ran around like maniacs, burning every part of the camp they could reach.

Which was the whole thing.

After watching it burn to the floor, the pair started laughing, clutching onto each other for support.

“Oh my goddesses. You nearly died!” Wild laughed. “So did you!” Time said as the pair looked at the remainder of the fire.

“Should we keep walking?” “Sure.” 

The pair walked.

And walked.

An walked.

“Okay, we have to be in hebra.” Wild sighed. “Haven’t we passed that mountain already?” Time asked. “I don’t know, let’s head east.”

Mind you, at this point the boys had climbed up mountains too.

They were tired.

As they kept walking, they found ruins of some sort.

Yeah, they burnt those down too.

Same with all the camps they passed.

“What are those?” Time asked, pointing down the mountain. Wild looked to where he was pointing.

Three lynels.

“Fucking perfect.” Wild sighed.

Given, maybe only one would go after them but still…

It was annoying.

“Those are something we should avoid, if we go that way,” Wild pointed south east.

“What about the boys?”

Wild did a double take on the lynels.

Just as Time said…

The other seven were against one.

“They’re gonna die. Let’s go.” Wild handed Time the spare paraglider he had and they glided down.

“Stay back!” Wild yelled out to everyone. They immediately backed up as he landed on the Lynels back.

He switched to a savage lynel crusher and hit the lynel as many times as he could before flipping off of it, shooting the back of it’s head with three shock arrows at a time using a savage lynel bow.

This continued until the lynel died.

Wild picked up the remains, even taking the chance to wave the guts in Twilight’s face.

Time looked at Wild and they smirked at each other before pulling out bows.

“You guys should run.” Time said, pulling out fire arrows. The group started to walk away and the pair ran in the direction the other two lynels were.

With loud laughter, they shot arrow after arrow until the lynels were surrounded with flames.

Wild immediately summoned his horse and master-cycle zero. He got on the latter as Time mounted the horse.

They rode quickly to the other seven boys and pulled two each onto their transportation.

Hyrule, Wind, and Four were on Epona, Wild and Twilight were on the master-cycle zero, Time, Legend, and Sky were on Wild’s horse, and Warriors…

Well Twilight shot the claw-shot at him and he’s currently shield surfing behind everyone.

“Aye! Aye! Twi you better pull me closer or I swear to Hylia!” “Huh? What was that? I can’t hear- oh shit!” Twilight saw the two lynels charging at them and immediately drew Warriors in closer.

“Take the wheel.” Wild said. Twilight grabbed the handle bars, pulling Warriors onto the bike. It was lucky he knew how to drive the damned thing. Wild jumped off and paraglided to the lynels, shooting arrows at both of them.

He went through the bow and pulled out another of the same type.

After dropping down to the floor, he pulled out a new weapon, having broken the crusher: specifically a royal guard’s claymore.

After 14 hits, Wild threw it at one of the Lynels and pulled out the fierce deity sword, quickly pulling out his slate to change into the clothes to match.

“Come at me pussy!” He yelled. He was running ahead of the lynels at an attempt to keep up with everyone.

Wild eventually got rid of both lynels, using three Urbosa’s furies in the process. He then used a Revali’s gale to catch up with everyone.

“This was a great idea!” He yelled as he flew over Time.

Good thing the old man hadn’t seen the fierce deity clothes.

But… Wild was dressed as dark link for night-time speed up.

“Goddess dammit, Hy! Watch where you’re aiming that thing!” Wild yelled as a bomb arrow flew past his ear.

“Not my fault you look like dark link! Fuck sake Wild you’re giving Time flashbacks!” Wild looked down to see Hyrule was right. Not just Time but Warriors and a few others looked like they just saw a demon.

Four was a different story for obvious reasons. He looked like he just saw a god.

“Stable!” Wind yelled, veering Epona out of the way - much to Twilight’s approval.

The same couldn’t be said for Wild’s horse or the master cycle zero.

They both crashed head on as Wild burst out laughing. “Jeez Time, we weren’t meant to break the stable too!” He yelled with a laugh.

Safe to say, everybody found out the old man had a rather destructive side.

Wild also had to hand over wood and rupees to repair the damage.

Twilight still doesn’t understand how the boy had left over stuff.

END

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I hope you guys liked this lol.

The og plan was for Time and Wild to accidentally burn down the bridges to rito village but eh.

LEAVE REQUESTS BELOW!

REQUESTS MUST INCLUDE:

PAIRING

TYPE/GENRE/CATEGORY (fluff, angst, etc)

PLATONIC OR NOT

I WILL WRITE ONLY ABOUT THE LINKS (including the ravio, shadow,  the zeldas, and requested characters. Will not write about whole other fandoms though)

I CAN DO READER INSERTS IF REQUESTED (no oc’s tho)

CAN DO AN AU IF REQUESTED