#those words looks weird w a space between them now

[sugarsnappeases]

things are looking up (half-price punnet of raspberries)

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 3

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.3k

c/w - language, slight homophobia

a/n - hi, i’m back! i wrote the majority of this part while high and she’s mostly unedited so if you see mistakes, no you don’t. i’m so happy with how y’all are receiving this story and i’m having so much fun writing it! i’d like to reiterate that i’m sure paige’s mom and step-dad are amazing parents and this is all fictional! as always, i hope you enjoy, and lmk what you think!

Finals go about as well as Azzi expected. With the way she and Paige locked in three days before, she’s not too surprised. They didn’t even go to the gym the entire time, instead staying shut up in Paige’s bedroom with highlighters and textbooks and laptops. Although, Paige did get pretty stir-crazy on day two and started doing push-ups on the floor. Azzi had gotten a weird vibe that she was showing off.

What did make studying a little harder, though, was the fact that Paige seems to be having trouble separating their acting from their actual friendship, and has thus taken to calling Azzi ‘ma’ and brushing her thigh even while they’re alone. Azzi doesn’t know how to tell her to stop, or if she even really wants to.

It’s now the day after finals and only two days before they leave for Montana, where the real challenge will begin. Needing some space from Paige, which is a rarity with them practically living together these days, Azzi has retired to own room to pack her bags. It’s not going well.

Usually, she’s an amazing packer. She enjoys it, even, finds it soothing to create a checklist, pick her outfits, and pack her belongings just so so that they all fit.

Today, it’s a little different. Because today, she doesn’t know what to plan for, and she doesn’t know her to make all her shit fit into this suitcase, and she can’t decide what outfits to bring because all she can think about with each article of clothing is whether or not Paige would like it. Would Paige like these leggings, the way they hug her ass? Would she like this tight top with the plunging neckline? Would she compliment these shoes, ogle this little skirt?

Being in love with Paige is nothing new. But this, this feels foreign to Azzi, feels like when they were teenagers and she was just beginning to realize that her feelings for Paige were more than platonic. It feels nervous and jittery and insecure, and over the years Paige has become safe. She is secure and strong and rooted deeply in Azzi’s very being. Azzi wants more out of her, sure, but that fact hasn’t made her this afraid in years.

Groaning, Azzi fists up the sweatshirt she’s holding and then buries her face in it to scream. She’s about halfway through her little tantrum when a knock on her door startles her out of it. She doesn’t bother to lift her head out of the sweatshirt to mumble, “Fuck off.”

The door opens anyway, of course, and then there’s Carol’s voice, cautiously asking, “What’s going on in here?”

Azzi finally lifts her head to stare at her best friend. “Trying to pack for Montana.”

“Yeah?” Carol asks, still speaking softly as if she were trying to soothe a rabid animal. “And, uh, how’s that goin’ for you?”

Azzi groans again. “Really great, yeah. It’s awesome.”

“Mm.” Carol hums, then perches herself on the edge of Azzi’s bed, looking down at her. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says automatically, because she can’t tell her best friend what’s actually going on, or else she’d give away she and Paige’s secret. But Carol looks at her suspiciously, like she might start interrogating her at any second, and so Azzi quickly decides to tell a half-truth. “Ok, I just, I’m nervous to see Paige’s family in Montana.”

Carol furrows her brow. “But haven’t you met them before?”

“I have,” Azzi nods. “But only the times they came up to visit Paige, and those were far and few between.” Azzi can’t help the bitter tone that seeps into the last part.

“Yeah,” Carol says. “From what I’ve heard it doesn’t seem like they’re super involved with her. Not like her dad and step-mom.”

“They’re not, and they never have been,” Azzi says, clutching the sweater a little tighter as if she were choking it. “Paige’s mom left when Paige was like three and she didn’t come back to visit until an entire year later. Paige didn’t even remember her by then. She says she hugged her dad’s leg and cried the first time she visited,” Azzi seethes, remembering how Paige had laughed quietly when she first told Azzi the story, her eyes sad. “And now they’re homophobic and totally shut Paige out when she told them she was a lesbian and they’re going to hate me, it’s going to be so hostile and awful and—“ Azzi cuts herself off with another scream into the sweatshirt. Vaguely, she realizes it’s an old one of Paige’s, something she stole way back in high school. Fitting.

“Hey, hey,” Carol says, sliding onto the floor next to Azzi and patting her knee, “you gotta chill out, okay? You know Paige won’t let them say a word to you. That girl would protect you with her life,” she says earnestly, and it makes Azzi’s heart skip.

“Yeah?” Azzi asks, just because she wants to hear it from someone else.

“She loves you a lot, Az. And I think we all realized it a lot sooner than you did, because y’all were too fucking stupid to notice how different you are around each other.”

Azzi furrows her brow. “Different?”

“Yeah,” Carol nods, patting Azzi’s leg. “Ever since we got to UConn, the two of you are always in your own world. You listen to her for hours if she wants you to and she’s always touching on you, being all protective and shit. And don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you when she thinks you won’t notice. I mean, you two are dating now and she still does that shit.” She shakes her head affectionately, then laughs. “And y’all were like that long before we got here, too.”

Azzi isn’t really listening anymore, too stuck up on thinking, Paige looks at me?

It might seem like a silly thought because Azzi is stealing secret glances at Paige all the time, and she has done for years. But that makes sense, because Azzi is hopelessly in love with her. Paige has absolutely no reason to be staring at Azzi when she thinks nobody’s watching.

Carol must be saying all this to make her feel better. She always knows the right thing to say.

“Yeah,” Azzi says, instead of saying what she’s really thinking—There’s absolutely no chance Paige looks at me in secret—and when Carol leans in to hug her, she returns it, letting her head rest on her best friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Carol. You’re right.”

“I know, girl,” Carol responds. Azzi takes a deep breath, trying her best to chill out, and just as they’re separating, her door cracks open. Of course, speak of the devil, in pops Paige Bueckers, blond hair flowing loose around her shoulders. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nah,” Carol says, waving Paige in. “Just chatting.”

“Gossip?” Paige asks, shutting the door behind her.

“Don’t worry, we’d never gossip without you.”

Paige laughs and then looks down at Azzi, who is quite busy doing the very important job of picking at a scab on her knee. “Hey, babe. Everything good?”

Azzi looks between her two best friends, and Carol’s giving her a soft, encouraging smile which Paige clocks immediately—the three of them have gotten good at reading each other over the years—and she walks over to them, sitting down across from Azzi. “Okay, what’s up?”

Surprisingly, Azzi’s eyes begin to sting and a hard lump forms in her throat, emotion overtaking her more strongly than it usually does, and she only has to wonder why for just a moment before she remembers, her period should be starting any day now. Stubbornly, she swallows down the tears, refusing to embarrass herself by crying in front of them. “Nothing’s up. I’m just—“

“She was having a hard time packing,” Carol says quickly, pushing herself up off the ground. “How about you help her, Paige? Sit on her suitcase so she can zip it or something.” There’s a warning in her tone and Paige gets it immediately, based off the way she nods and scoots closer to Azzi.

As soon as Carol’s gone, Paige is reaching out to rest her arms on Azzi’s knees. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says, but Paige doesn’t buy it one bit. “Really, it’s fine. It’s dumb.”

“Not dumb, ma,” Paige says softly. Her thumb rubs against Azzi’s knees, and this is something Paige only does when they’re pretending. Azzi wonders again if she should warn Paige about the fact that their dating habits are seeping into their normal friendship, even when they’re alone. That could become dangerous.

But right now, the comforting warmth of it is welcome.

“Seriously, just tell me,” Paige urges, impatience evident in her tone. “You’re makin’ me all nervous.”

“Don’t, it’s actually not a big deal at all.” Azzi figures she should say something before Paige builds this up in her head too much. “I just, I’m worried about seeing your mom. I know she’s not gonna like me because of…” she gestures between them, “this. But I know she’s not my favorite person either and I’m just kinda scared that everything’s gonna clash and you’re gonna end up getting hurt.”

Paige stares at her for a second, then nods and sighs. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She looks down at her hands in Azzi’s lap, then back up at her. “But, like, if anything bad happens, it’s not gonna be on you. It’ll be on my parents for being shitty. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

Suddenly, Azzi feels guilty. Here she is having a mental breakdown over a situation that ultimately won’t affect her nearly as much as it’ll affect Paige. And here Paige is, sitting across from her, comforting her. The hands on Azzi’s knees start to feel too hot.

“You must be nervous, too,” Azzi says. “You don’t know how they’re gonna react when you show up with me rather than some guy.”

Paige shrugs it off, but her throat bobs. “Nah, it’s alright.”

Paige looks chill as can be, shoulders slumped, face relaxed. But Azzi knows her too well, notices the way her fingers are twitching and her eyes are looking everywhere but her.

“You don’t have to act in front of me,” Azzi says, hoping it doesn’t sound too corny.

“I know,” Paige says immediately. She finally meets Azzi’s eyes. “Listen, I might be a little nervous. But it’s whatever. And you don’t gotta be nervous, either. Whatever happens, we’ll be there together, yeah?”

Azzi nods, lifting Paige’s hands off her knees to take them in her own. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I got you,” Paige says softly, and it flusters Azzi but she’s more focused on the way Paige is looking at her, this little crease between her brows like she’s trying to figure something out. Just like after their kiss. But Azzi clears her throat and Paige snaps out of it, pulling her hands away from Azzi’s to brush herself off. “And you got me. Just like always, yeah?” She stands up, then looks around awkwardly, suddenly all jittery and weird. “So, uh, do you actually need help packing? I’m basically a master packer, I could get it done in prolly five minutes, flat.”

Azzi knows Paige is trying to deflect from whatever that was, and it seems like, once again, they’re not going to talk about it. Amazing.

“You’re the worst packer I’ve met in my life, P,” Azzi teases, going with it. “I usually need to help you.”

“I’on need no help,” Paige waves her off. Then she looks down at Azzi’s suitcase and scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. “But, uh, if you wanted to come up to my place to help with some fits I wouldn’t be mad.”

Azzi shakes her head, deciding to leave her packing for later. “Come on, stupid head. Let’s go.”

“Yo,” Paige says, following her out of the room. “Don’t call me stupid.”

“Sorry you’re right,” Azzi says. “Shit-for-brains is way more fitting.”

“Yo!”

—————————————

Before leaving for the airport, their teammates act like they’re going off to war. They all hug them extra-long and talk forlornly about what they’re gonna do without ‘mom and dad’ around.

Now that Azzi and Paige are ‘dating’, the two of them get called mom and dad more often than they get called their actual names. It’s kind of cute, actually, even if it is annoying sometimes.

“You kids be good,” Paige says sternly, playing into the act, and Azzi ruffles KK’s hair and says, “don’t bother your brothers.”

“Yeah, don’t bother us, Camera,” Ice says, and KK tackles her. Paige and Azzi take the opportunity to sneak out.

They’re at the airport now, waiting in the lounge where they only get approached by two polite fans asking for pictures. Paige is just dozing off when their flight is called, and Azzi manages to drag her through the gate into the plane before she’s slouching in her seat, falling asleep as soon as she sits down.

She wakes thirty minutes later, and she rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder when they start up a movie to watch. When she does, instinct takes over and Azzi doesn’t really realize what she’s doing until she kisses Paige on the head, nuzzling into her blonde hair, and she’s mid-nuzzle when she remembers that they have no reason to be all up on each other like this. Paige is stiff on her shoulder now, and Azzi laughs awkwardly, lifting her head to stare blankly at the movie. “My bad. Habit.”

“You’re good,” Paige says. She softens on Azzi’s shoulder, and then she mumbles something completely incoherent.

“Sorry, what?” Azzi asks, popping an earbud out to hear better.

“Huh?” Paige says.

“You said something.”

“Nah, you’re hearin’ stuff.”

“Paige.”

“Shh, I’m missing the movie.”

“Paige, seriously, what’d you just say? You tryna talk crap?”

“No,” Paige says emphatically. She shrugs, then leans her head a little further into Azzi’s neck and mutters, “I just said I didn’t mind.”

“Didn’t mind what?” Azzi asks, scrunching her nose.

“Are you dumb?” Paige says.

“Rude,” Azzi responds, and then she says, “Wait. You didn’t mind when I kissed you?”

“Didn’t mind when you kissed my head,” Paige corrects.

It’s Azzi’s turn to mumble, “Well, I know you didn’t mind when we kissed for real, either,” and Paige hears it and lifts her head up, shoving Azzi away. “Hey, chill with allat. I said that to you in a moment of weakness.”

Azzi shoves her right back, hoping to hide the feelings she’s sure are written all across her face, because Paige has admitted that she wants to kiss Azzi again and now they’re bringing that up, and what does it even mean?

“Aw,” Azzi says, trying for casual, “you big ol’ softy.”

“I ain’t soft,” Paige says gruffly, looking out the window and crossing her arms over her chest.

“I think you are,” Azzi sing-songs, then she leans over into Paige’s space. Paige doesn’t turn to her, but her breath hitches when Azzi whispers close to her ear, “I think you’re soft as hell for me.”

Paige stares stubbornly out the window. “No clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Mm,” Azzi hums, and then she rests her chin on her shoulder, gazing out the window as well, even though her mind is elsewhere. “I think you like doing this with me, P.” Feeling bold, she sneaks her hand onto Paige’s thigh, clad in those basketball shorts that always do something to Azzi’s head. “I think you’re surprised by how much you like it. Having an excuse to be all over me whenever you want. Acting like I’m all yours when we’re around people.”

Paige gasps when Azzi presses her lips to her neck, not kissing her but just resting there, and she turns back to look at her when Azzi lifts her head.

They’re inches apart.

Paige looks at her lips. She’s been doing that a lot ever since their conversation in the bathroom. Azzi is a soldier for the amount of restraint she usually has, because when Paige looks at her like this—this new, unfamiliar look on her face while she stares at her lips—every bone in her body wants to close the gap between them.

Today, her restraint feels frayed. And so she leans forward, slowly, and kisses just the edge of Paige’s mouth. Not a real kiss. But not friendly, either.

Paige gasps.

Azzi breathes out shakily, and then she shoves Paige’s face away playfully. “Watch our movie, dumbass.”

Azzi is shaking for the entirety of the movie, but at least she’s pretending to watch it. The entire time, she can feel Paige’s eyes burning into her skin.

Azzi gets the sinking feeling that something unexpected is going to happen on this trip.

—————————————

They get off the plane at 7pm. By the time they get their bags, it’s 7:30. And by the time Paige’s parents pull up to get them, it is 7:45. Paige clutches Azzi’s to her side with one hand, her suitcase held tight in the other. Her mom and step-dad look at them strangely and whisper to each other before getting out of the car.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean is the first to speak. “How was the flight?”

Paige releases Azzi so he can pull her into an awkward hug while her mom stands back. “Yeah, uh, it was good.”

“Good, good,” Dean nods. “That’s good.” He glances back at his wife, who is looking between Paige and Azzi with this expression on her face that Azzi doesn’t like at all. “Here, um, let me get you ladies’ bags.”

He takes a suitcase in each hand and pops the trunk to start loading up their stuff. He murmurs something to Amy when he passes, by, and she nods stiffly before taking a measly step forward. “Hi, baby. Your…hair looks nice.”

Azzi almost squeezes her eyes shut at how awkward this is. But at the same time she can’t, watching mother and daughter like she’s watching a train wreck.

“Thanks, Mom.” Paige is the first to reach out, and even though Amy holds her stiffly, Paige falls into her mother’s arms, something she has never been able to do often. Azzi can tell Paige thinks it may be the last time and is trying to savor it.

“Paige,” Amy says, pulling away from her daughter after a few moments and glancing pointedly at Azzi, “I see you brought your friend.”

Paige looks back at Azzi, who, despite her own nervousness, gives Paige her most encouraging smile.

“That’s alright, we have a pullout,” Amy says after neither of them responds. “Would’ve been nice to know that I needed to shop for an extra person, though.”

Azzi winces. What a rude thing to say.

“So, where’s Josh?” she goes on, and Azzi’s stomach churns. This is it. “Your father and I have been dying to meet him.”

“Not my father,” Paige murmurs quietly enough that Dean won’t be able to hear from where he’s still lingering behind the car, taking great care in loading up their bags.

“Don’t be like that, Paige, you know what I meant,” Amy sighs, then runs a hand down her face. “Josh isn’t here, is he?”

At this, Dean perks up, closing the trunk door.

Paige backs up a few steps, back to Azzi, and takes her hand to pull her forward. “No, he’s not.”

“Uh,” Azzi says, speaking for the first time when everyone looks at her expectantly. “Nice to see you guys again.”

“Good to see you too, Azzi,” Dean says jovially, even though they’ve only met a few times.

Amy looks at Paige. “Why is she here with you?”

She looks as if she knows the answer and is dreading it.

Paige, always so brave, strives on anyway.

“Mom, Dean,” Paige says. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, I know it seems last-minute. But…” she looks over at Azzi, who squeezes her hand a little.

She smiles softly down at her, and doesn’t even bother to look at her parents when she says, “Azzi’s my girlfriend.”

Amy places a hand to her chest and Dean walks forward to rub her back soothingly. Azzi inches a little closer to Paige. Here they go.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

[ariseur]

a lil drabble about megumi and how it would living w him? (maybe reader and megumi are married or they are still dating)

💌

“watching people crumble so desperately is like hell.” megumi tipped his head back, the back of his hair flattening against the plush cushions of your shared bed. you looked up from your pillow, gazing at the tv mounted neatly on the wall of your room before looking over at megumi, your brows instantly knitting together.

he huffed, “i mean, it’s pathetic, really,” yet even with those words, his attention was brought back to the screen.

“megumi, baby, it’s pawn stars.”

his eyes rolled over to you, squinting. “exactly, they’re on television and they’re acting this way,” you gently laughed at his antics, sleepily scooting over towards him no matter how much he stiffened. truth be told, moving in with megumi wasn’t such a bad idea. it wasn’t that much different considering your past at jujutsu high ( where you’d ultimately visit his dorm every other day ) — so having you around wasn’t an abrupt change of pace. and, you had managed to reel him in with these trash television shows just like how these companies do as well, even if he complained about the lack of substantial consumption of these tv shows were absolutely appalling; you catch him on his way to throw out the trash, pausing at the front door as his head remained peeked through the crevice — trying to watch the new season that you had put on as background noise.

your fingers danced along his rest, which he awkwardly looked around while you did so. if you asked, he’d tell you that you’re weird and that’s why he was so tense but in actuality, he just can’t handle affection. it almost seemed surreal to him at times, like he couldn’t believe you were real. he’d come home after a tiring day, kick off his shoes and make his way over to the kitchen to soothe his famishing appetite, and then he’d see you. you’d be washing dishes or exercising or perhaps just walking right past that again on the floor you always say you’ll clean ( and never do ), and he’ll just observe. it’s only when it’s at night when you’re falling asleep that he would murmur small praises to you, telling you that he can’t believe you’re actually hear.

megumi would mutter them low enough that he knows you won’t be able to hear them, only focusing on his low voice and being able to flutter your eyelashes as they became heavy lidded with sleep, feeling him fiddle with the ends of your hair as the tickling sensation shot straight up to your scalp — pulling you further into a balanced serenity. then in the morning, he’d wake up before you, and before he started any mundane activities that had to be done that day, he admired you. sometimes you woke up with a teasing smile, asking him what he had been doing watching you, and other times you’d try to pretend to sleep even though he knew the difference anyway. megumi had spent too long in bed, just gazing at your face, to not know your body language enough to where he wouldn’t know if you were awake or not.

“do you wanna go somewhere today?” he asked, only getting an eyeful of bed head as he looked down to see you clutching his arm. he quirked a brow, dropping the remote from his now free hand to bring it up to your head — before flicking your temple. you groaned. megumi huffed, “oi, do you wanna go or not?”

“why can’t we jus’ stay in bed?” you whined, dragging out the ‘e’ likely more than you needed to. his hand came down to softly rest on your head, thumb rubbing your temple to somewhat try and soothe his recent assault.

“because later at noon, you’re gonna get mad at me because i let you spend the whole day lazing in bed.”

“. . no.”

megumi sighed as he threw his head back again. he shook your shoulder once more only to be met with a groan, the proximity of your mouth and the small space in between where you had smushed your head and the pillow creating a louder bleat than it sounded, almost drowning the low volume background noise that was ‘pawn stars’.

at that point, he had almost considered giving up — that is, until his brain thought back to the one thing that could get you to do anything. his head tipped back down, a sharp sigh escaping his nostrils once more.

“we can go get you some of that mochi you like right now.”

your head tilted up at the comment, one eye peeking out through the warm blanket and upwards at megumi. he carried a blank expression, clearly using his last resort. he watched as your pupil flickered to the left, downwards, and then back up at him before you muttered, “you will?”

his lips pressed together before he gave you a curt nod. before he could react properly or add anything else, megumi retracted his arm from your body ( or it was more ejected from your space ) as you scrambled out of bed, hurrying to put on jeans and find your tennis shoes. he barked at you to be careful as you sailed away into the hallway, only for his calls to fall on deaf ears. sliding out of the covers, he was met with the cool air as the foreign temperature abraded his skin, resulting in a deep shudder. he looked back at the hallway whilst he rested on the edge of the bed.

shaking his head, megumi huffed out a small, “dork,” before getting up to follow after you.

𐙚 taglist ; @chxlexauriana @seternic @kalulakunundrum @silly-norman @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz

𐙚 requests are open — june twenty fourth, 2024

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Always have but never hold

Previous chapter

a/n Welcome to the tenth and final part. Do tell me if you think this should go on. I'm at the crossroads. Not too fully sure where to go on with this from here. These two have had a journey so had I. Thank you for everyone who tagged along. 🤍✨

warnings: nightmares, overwhelming feelings, past trauma, miscommunication (should have been a warning from the start lol).

Parts in cursive are flashbacks.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

How surreal is the concept of meeting someone and having them change your life forever? Finding a soul that radiates the same energy, or at least the energy that attracts you. Feeling drawn to them. Craving to bask in the warmth of their presence because it just feels right. Because it feels true. Because it feels safe. And you can't help it. No matter what. No matter the obstacles. No matter the fears. That person's soul is there, and all you want to do and think about is how you can't let them go. It was weird. Everything still felt so confusing. It was surreal at times when you would wake up in your old bed, cuddled up between the sheets that you both used to lay under. All the what-ifs and why-not, questioning the choice of staying. Choosing to grow and forgive to allow someone to stay.

Carmen walked through the door. A neatly wrapped package of food was in his hands. He started doing that a lot—bringing food home from family. And not just leftovers, not just something that someone didn't eat. A whole, fully intentional meal. The apartment seemed too silent, and at first, anxiety kicked in—that same anxiety of losing. But the dull light from the living room soon chased those thoughts away. And that's when he saw you. A knitted blanket over your body. Book in your hands, the smell of the scented candles filling the room. And then there were your eyes. The gaze that found him. And Carmen was smiling, soaking up the sight in front of him.

"You're home early", you said as Carmen quickly shrugged off his jacket. "Yeah, not much we could do today. Plus, I had a meeting with the doctor". You close the book, sit up, and allow Carmen some space on the sofa. "How did it go?", the past couple of weeks have felt pretty much like a daze. After an endless amount of tears and conversations, you agreed to move back in with Carmen. Marcus had flown back to Copenhagen alongside Luca. Meaning that you would have to pay for the place you had been renting on your own. And that wasn't an option because you were already tight on money. Was Luca excited to leave you alone in Chicago? No, he was not, but he chose to not fight your choice too much.

"Just be sensible", he said, "Both with your choice and yourself", you hugged him tightly. Letting go of your lifeline felt weird. It left you vulnerable. Fully exposed to the cold world around you. But you knew that you couldn't hide behind Luca forever. "You know that I love you, right?", he muttered, pulling away slightly. "Us against the world forever", you looked at him. Truly look at the man in front of you. The person who jumped in to save you so many times. Who took the hit meant for you. Who drove for hours to get to you. Who sat in the doctor's office with you. "Do you think this is a mistake?", you asked him, but there was no suggestive reaction on Luca's face as he said, "Listen to your heart and then consult with your brain just in case", you had chuckled at his words before you pulled away.

And now you are here with Carmen. Unsure of what status you two held. Partners? Lovers? Exes? Strangers? Sitting in the apartment, which had been clear evidence of Carmen's pain. The distraction painted the apartment in a heap of mess. "I didn't like it. I mean, I never do", Carmen ran his hands through his hair. "It still feels strange. But people... like, I don't know, do they eventually stop finding it weird?", he asked you. Considering that you both were in therapy now, recapping and running through your conversations with doctors was something you did a lot. Strangely, you found comfort in it.

"I don't think you do", you whispered after a moment. "Picture it like this. Does it ever get easier to tell strangers that something in your life fucked you over so much that now you need to see a doctor?", you both snickered, and Carmen moved to open up the boxed food. It felt almost as if you were roommates once again. Just differently from that time in New York, you didn't want one to move out. You were fighting to make this work. To keep one another. To grow the roots that would hold you together.

"How was the art gallery?", you looked up at him in a way surprised that he even remembered. "Exciting. They want me to work on a project with them", you said as if it was nothing. But Carmen's eyes were big, and you could feel true joy in them. "Wait! That's awesome. That's... I'm proud of you", he muttered. You watched him. His sparkly eyes now reminded you of the time he sneaked into an art tour you were doing back in New York. Asking just the right questions. Making the lazy tourists roll their eyes. But your heart had been so full. "I'm meeting with them this Friday for dinner", you said. "Maybe they'll change their minds till then", you shrugged, reaching for the pasta in front of you. "They won't", Carmen said, making you chuckle, "You don't know that", "I know that you're awesome", you sucked in a breath as you watched him for a moment. Letting his words truly sink in.

Carmen's been watching you for a while now. Not in a creepy way, though. He was just mesmerized by how someone was capable of looking so beautiful even while fast asleep. You two had decided to watch a show after dinner. He knew you wouldn't last long. You never did. Getting sleepy almost immediately. The distance between you two seemed astronomical, yet you were only a couple of feet away. Sat at the other end of the sofa. Carmen wished he could hug you. No, he would have settled for anything. But then he at least wanted to feel your body heat. Anything to let him know that this wasn't just all in his head. That you weren't just a cruel joke of his imagination. Carmen watched your eyebrows crinkling up—another bad dream, he thought. And within moments, even while still asleep, you looked so much smaller. So much more powerless as the demons lurking in the shadows took over. Carmen wasted no time scooting closer to you, his fingers brushing the hair away from your face. A scared cry left your lips, and it was as if Carmen's body was working on autopilot. His arms sneaked around your middle as he pressed his chest against your back, bringing you closer to him. Your fingers reach out to grasp his arms. "I've got you", he muttered, "You're safe here. I'll keep you safe". His face was nuzzled in your hair as he spoke. A loud gasp filled the room as your body jerked up, only to fall against Carmen's chest. You let out a shaky breath as you tightened Carmen's hold around you. Afraid you might fall. Afraid you might crumble if he lets go. "Stay", you whispered, holding onto him even tighter. "I was not planning on going anywhere", Carmen muttered, kissing your shoulder.

"I like the black plates. He, of course, has zero opinion until he suddenly has so many opinions that I feel like I will have a whiplash", Sydney said in frustration over the phone. You giggled slightly at how she never failed to call you every time Carmen got on her nerves. "Do the gray one and meet him in the middle", you suggest, dunking your brush into the paint before adding new strokes to the canvas. "Grey, they only have grey with blue", Sydney growls, "I give up". You drop the brush into the water jug. "You want me to come down? Look through it?", you ask her softly. You've been away from the restaurant ever since the fire. Well, not fully away considering that Sydney had turned to your daily reporter, but still. You hadn't put your foot down on that property. "I... You're busy. I don't want to bother you", she dragged out. "I'll be down in a bit. Hold the front line till then, Syd", you told her before hanging up.

It felt almost like a flashback as you made your way down to the restaurant. Flashbacks of your heading there with Carmy right after the funeral. The times you ran up and down the street for nearby deliveries. The times you stood outside with him, just holding his hands and breathing. The times you smoked outside trying to fight your own overwhelming emotions. You never hated the concept of the restaurant. Quite the opposite; it was an interesting little bubble. You valued Carmy's love for food, even if it wasn't your own. Well, a lie. You learned to love food from him.

"Okay, hold it like this", he said, standing right behind you and guiding your hands. Showing you how to cut properly. "Don't use the tips of your fingers to hold", he said, carefully moving your fingers to a proper position. "And then you do that fast shit? Chop, chop, chop", Carmy lets out a low laugh at your impression. Turning to kiss the side of your head, "Maybe no chop, chop just yet. Get used to cutting veggies like this first. The speed of it will come with practice". You made a sad face before saying, "You do it then; it's captivating", you handed Carmen the knife, resting your face in your hands as you watched him do his thing with a light smirk on his face.

Carmen was feeling his anxiety beating right into his ribcage. The people around him were too loud. Too demanding. He felt like the sounds around him were slowly suffocating him. Ruthlessly dunking his head under the water. Keeping him under even as his lungs ran out of oxygen. All he heard was Carmy this and Carmy that. It felt like one of those torture techniques where your libs were tight to different horses, each pulling you to all four different sides. Carmen didn't have answers to the questions people were demanding. He simply didn't know, and now...

"What's all the shouting for?", and that's all it takes. It feels as if everything around him dies down. His lungs now easily welcomed the air around him. Mind slowing down. He lets out a deep sigh as his eyes fall over your frame. Hair up in a messy bun, the one that he loved so much, with loose pieces framing your face. You have one of Carmy's old shirts on. There's a paint stain on it, and for some reason, that makes him smile a little. His salvation. His love. His home.

"My girl", Tina rushes forward, wrapping you up in a tight embrace. "It's been weeks; let me look at you", she cups your face, looking you all over. You can't help but smile at her. Without a doubt, you missed her presence during your weeks away. "You look pale as paper", she says, shaking her head. "I'll make you my mama's soup. I will get you back on your feet", At this point, you're almost convinced that her eyes will not leave you, no matter where you go. "It's not necessarily, Ti", you move to squeeze her hands, but she only huffs, "It's a must, Mi Nino. With a man like that you have to run around", she scoffed Carmy's way, but he only clenched his jaw. Choosing to stay silent. "I'll steal Carmen for a moment and then be out to help", you glance at Sydney reassuringly, watching as her hands full of plates sag at her sides, but you don't let yourself think about it much as you step forward, brushing your fingers against Carmen's wrist before dragging him towards the office.

"You're okay?", you breathed out once the door closed behind you two. It was silent for a moment. Just Carmen's irregular breathing. Your fingers were still intertwined with his, and from the grip Carmy had on them, you knew he had no intention of letting go. "It's just... I just... don't know shit", his voice was barely a whisper. You nod. "Talk to me about it", you mutter. His eyes find you. Talk. Such an easy thing, right? Not to your two lately. But you've both been trying. Trying to not only listen but also hear. See without being asked to. "Yeah, I think I can do that", he says, nodding his head. You brush your fingers through his messy hair, nodding alongside him.

When you emerge from the office, it's a solid hour later. You have sketches in your hands. The idea of the restaurant. Visuals for plating and a whole Pinterest board just for the restaurant vibe itself. Sydney is sitting by the table, her head resting on the surface. A lot had changed while you were away. The place had been closed. At least three walls were missing. There was a mold issue. But mole issues no more... You'll get to that eventually.

"Right, so he wants a classy, sophisticated look. Something that would be good for plating different dishes in", you plop your sketchbook to the table. Reaching for the plate closest to you. "And he couldn't just tell me that?", Sydney huffed, "How do you meet his brain waves?" You let out a chuckle. Oddly enough, you had learned to read Carmy's mind as if it was a book. "So what did he say no to?", you asked her once more. "Amm, let me see. Fucking everything", Sydney gives you a fake smile, and you bit your lip, suppressing a laugh.

With your phone on the side, the mood board opened, you glance from the plaits to the visuals. Quickly making a yes and no line. Sorting everything into different plating arrangements. Mixing pricier pieces with more affordable ones. Pulling up a color palette for different napkin options. Once you were satisfied, you drew your eyes back to Sydney, who stood there with her mouth slightly open. "That's some dark magic shit", she breathed out. "Be careful; it might turn you into a frog", you shimmy your fingers in front of her face before pulling her closer. "This is... This is perfect", her eyes scanned the table in front of her. "Get everyone to vote for what they like best", you suggest; "Carmy will like this", you point to the third option. The contrasting plate colors and clean-edged dishes were something that no doubt would bring him back to Michelin-class places.

You slipped outside for a quick smoke. Enjoying the little breeze of the evening. Needing a little moment to yourself. You breathed out the smoke carelessly before realizing that you were not alone. "Oh, sorry", you quickly chase the cloud away, adding, "You're okay?". The greenish-pale face was clear evidence of nausea. "Just... It's really warm inside", you only nodded in agreement. And then the silence falls, but the insane kind. The one that you know holds a lot of unsaid feelings. You try to ignore it but fail miserably, "Just say what's on your mind, Natalie".

The woman shakes her head. "I feel guilty", she admits, about the whole Claire situation". That name itself sends a shiver down your back. "Don't waste your breath on it; Richie already told me everything", you take another drag from your cigarette but blow out a smoke away from Nat, not wanting to make her feel any sicker. "I never had a girl friend in the family. Boys had been shit with ladies", she breathed out. "But then you came, and there were so many emotions, and I didn't know you, and maybe I got jealous", you turned to look at her once her words died down. "So... you decided to break me and Carmy apart because you were jealous?", you ask her. "Wow, this family is truly insane", you breathed out, shaking your head.

"I just needed someone familiar; we all needed someone familiar,", Natalie said, but you only shook your head. "That's very hypocritical of you. Carmy already knew me very well, may I add. You could have gotten to know me too". She falls silent for a moment. "Did Richie tell you about the letter?", she asked, not meeting your eyes. "What letter?", you breathed out. Nat nods her head as if reassuring herself before saying, "Michael wrote a letter. It didn't say anything about me and Richie besides the general love you all", she said, "But he mentioned Carmy so many times, and...", her voice died down. She looked like a frozen statue for a moment. "Your name was there too. Mikey felt like an ass that he won't get to meet Carmen's future wife. Won't get to tell you embarrassing stories. Won't hold your kids", those words make your own eyes sting. Breath hitching in your throat. You were not sure of what to say.

"I'm pregnant, you know, and he didn't say anything about my kids", she said through gritted teeth. She moved to wipe her tears away quickly. "Oh, Natalie", you said, dropping the cigarette to the side before stepping closer to her. "It was so fucking petty, and I've been feeling so guilty, but I just wanted something to finally be about me", she crocked out as more tears came rushing down her cheeks. You quickly embraced her, bringing her hiccuping body closer to your chest.

"I've never wanted to...", she cried, but you shook your head. "I was never here to take your space and take your brothers away from you. They both love you a lot, believe me", you reassured her. "You stood up for Carmy at the funeral. No one had been so direct with our mother... I just wanted", she whispered, and all you could do was nod because you knew very well what she wanted. Something that you too had been wanting for so long. Someone who could protect her. To always have her back. To turn into a shield against the harsh world around her. That's what Luca was to you. That's what you were to Carmen. "I'm so sorry", she pulled away slightly, looking into your eyes. "I know, Nat, and I forgive you", you muttered, brushing your sleeve over her damp cheeks, "Now come on, you'll get a cold here, and we need to get you something to drink".

Everyone had eventually gone home. But not before eating the soup that Tina had made while sitting on cardboard boxes together. Only now did you realize how much you had missed this in some way. The little gathering after the day. Something warming to look forward to. Sydney put Marcus on the phone, and to see his beaming face was one of the most rewarding things. You knew you had Luca to thank for that. For bringing back the passion and excitement that used to bubble in Marcus. Richie had pulled into a little side hug before he too stepped out of the place. "I'm glad to see you back", he muttered. You didn't say anything; you just squeezed his hand in return.

"What are you doing here?", Carmy's voice brought you back to the room. You had slipped away to look at the wall facing the entrance. A big white wall that was staring right at you. "Just looking", you muttered. Carmen sat down beside you, following your gaze. He didn't say anything for a while. The silence felt like a warm blanket. "You should paint this wall, or we could hand one of your paintings", Carmy said, and you quickly turned to face him. "That's the main wall", you breathed out. "Exactly why it should be painted by you. If you want to, of course", Carmen stated firmly.

He gazed at you, catching your eyes already on him. "You were thinking about it yourself, weren't you?", Carmen asked, knowing the answer right away when your checks went pink. "I was...but with everything", you breathed out, "It's weird because I love you so much, but I still feel like there are so many things that we need to rebuild".

Carmen reached for your hand, lifting it to his lips before kissing your delicate skin a couple of times. "There's no rush", he breathed out, turning the ring on your finger, "I know where I want to get to. I know what the final destination looks like". You crook your head to the side. Reaching up to brush your fingers through his hair. "Do you want to share?", you ask shyly. Carmy pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. "It's nothing complicated. You and me. That's all I need", he breathes out, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. You reached up, brushing your fingers across Carmy's cheek, and he instantly leaned into your touch. "I think I like that kind of future", you breathed out. His big blue eyes seize you once more. And there's a shy smile on his face. "You do?", he asks, and you nod your head. You run your thumb over his lips a couple of times, and then he's brushing his lips against your own, and it feels like the first time all over again. The same heat rushes to your cheeks. And it's nothing but slow love that you can promise each other now. Patient love that grows alongside you both. One that doesn't put labels. Just promises to keep you both warm. All you need to do is to promise to hold onto one another.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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[ragnarokhound]

Hi bb 🐺 can you choose a 500 word snippet from one of your published fics or wips and give us some director's commentary / insight into what you were thinking when you wrote it?

Hi bb! ^^ Sure, I'd love to!

I'd like to take the chance to talk about a scene from intricate rituals, my omegaverse Jaytim fic featuring beta!Tim being courted by alpha!Jason.

This scene takes place near the end of the rising action, at the tail end of the fifth time that Jason was totally courting Tim, and Tim still did not notice. Obviously, spoilers under the cut for anyone who hasn't read it yet, and I am a chatty mfer so this got kind of long, haha:

Tim dozes against Jason’s shoulder as he fiddles with the bedroom door handle, and does absolutely nothing to help when they reach the bed in the corner; so Jason dumps him on top of the sheets without fanfare. He bounces on the mattress with an offended chirp while Jason turns to look through his dresser for something. Tim whines obnoxiously at the sudden cold and wriggles around until he’s under the cool top sheet, his face firmly shoved into one of Jason’s pillows. He squints an eye open when Jason still hasn’t finished doing whatever he’s doing, only to see him standing over the bed. His face is unreadable in the darkness, but Tim can tell that he’s clearly dithering.  Why? He better not be getting weird about this. It’s only weird if Jason makes it weird. Tim is not nearly awake enough to puzzle through the why right now. He’ll think about it later. “Jason. Get in the bed,” he grumbles. Jason startles at the sound of Tim’s voice, but does as he’s told. The second Jason is under the covers, Tim invades the inch of space left between them with impunity. But then— Jason stiffens, so Tim stops about point five millimeters away from actually touching him. “Sorry," Tim says quietly. "You're really warm?" He says it like a question, trying to explain himself and ask permission at the same time and he can't really tell if he's accomplished either. Jason seems to get it though; he takes a breath and relaxes, then closes the remaining distance himself. He pulls Tim into the hot cave of his body, leaving an arm slung over Tim's waist and tucking him under his chin. Tim sighs, a purr thrumming softly in his chest as he tangles himself in Jason. He buries his face in Jason’s collarbone and quietly wonders to himself how he got here.  He's not sure he knows how he and Jason went from barely tolerating each other in the same room, the same city, (the same costume) to cuddling like packmates in the same nest. Yeah, a nest Tim basically invited himself into, and okay when he’s more awake he’ll feel a little guilty about that— but Jason carried Tim here himself. He didn't have to do that. He had every opportunity to say no. To think that he has Jason's trust now. That Jason would let him in this close, have him at his back, at his throat, have access to the vulnerable parts of him. It's terrifying. It's wonderful. It’s only marred by the smallest hint of apprehension still woven through the sleepy warmth of Jason's scent, that Tim only catches because his nose is practically shoved against Jason's scent gland. With a small, trilling keen, he tries his best to project calm-safe-acceptance. He’s had practice at it since becoming Robin, since joining the Wayne pack, but he's always been better at masking his scent than projecting it. A lifetime of hiding is hard to unlearn.

(you don't realize how long 500 words is until you see it right there on the page lol)

So intricate rituals is practically a study in denial. Tim spends half the fic justifying to himself (and to us) why Jason's overt alpha courtship behavior has a completely platonic explanation, and never ever even hints that he, himself, a beta, might in fact want a romance with Jason. Even though he really, really does.

So when I start writing out the prose for a scene, I try to keep those big guiding principles for the overarching plot in mind, as well as what I'm hoping to accomplish by the end of the scene. There's a few things I wanted from this scene in particular.

First: absolutely gag-worthy #married behavior. This is it! This is the final example of Jason's courtship and Tim's flimsy excuses (AKA the formula for each scene lol). So it has to be truly outrageous. It has to be over the top. The cream of the crop. And this time, it has to be Tim's idea in the first place. Get hoisted (from your own petard), idiot.

Second: it has to set us up for why Tim is in Jason's bed in the final scene. I knew all along how this fic was going to end - with Tim in Jason's bed, but comfortable there already; the tip-over from platonic to romantic that only happens because they're in such a stupidly domestic position that Tim is FORCED to realize that he might not be the only one pretending that This Is Fine.

Third: this is almost a step too far for Jason. But not quite.

In the first half of this snippet, we catch the end of the egregious courting behavior. Jason literally carries Tim into his nest/bed. He has to step away to get PJ's or something - Tim's not paying attention to that, so we don't really find out for sure - and when he comes back to see Tim whining and wriggling and getting comfy in his sheets, he has to take a second. For #strength.

Like usual, Tim clocks that something is bothering Jason; that Jason is Experiencing An Emotion. But also like usual, he doesn't clock what it is. Even though it's obvious to us, the romance pilled and dramatic-irony-aware audience. Even worse, he's so deep in his own denial (which hopefully we've picked up at least an inkling of by now, but it's not explicitly told to us until the next interlude scene) that he blames Jason for making it weird. He gets so close to making the intuitive leap about why EXACTLY Jason might be hesitant about sharing a bed, but he's too ~sleepy UwU (and ~afraid OwO). UGH, TIM.

(I try to balance action with introspection. Action -> reaction -> introspection -> action. Jason dumps Tim on the bed -> Tim whines and gets comfortable -> Tim wonders what's taking Jason so long -> Tim opens his mouth to ask "hey wtf is your problem". But preferably the action/reaction is described vividly enough and in the character's voice enough that we can, like, microdose on introspection along the way and keep the ball rolling lol)

When Jason is told to get in the bed, he startles - he was lost in his own thoughts. I like to think Jason was pondering his own version of what Tim sort of torments himself (and us) with every scene; wondering to himself how they got here, lamenting the fact that Tim isn't interested in him the way he would like him to be, and thankful that he gets to have him at all. Maybe contemplating what might happen if only he was a little braver. If this is it; if this will be Tim's line, and whether Jason's about to cross it. (Tim lies to himself about his feelings. Jason is brutally honest with himself about his.)

Tim moves in for the cuddle - Jason stiffens because he's still boggling at this whole situation, and a little afraid that Tim will realize exactly where they are and finally tell Jason 'no'. Again, Tim clocks his discomfort - "Sorry," - and again he misunderstands its source, mislabeling the motivations behind Jason's actions.

Jason makes himself open, and Tim takes happy advantage. Awww, they're cute, even if I do want to strangle them 'now kiss' style. Cue Tim's 'isn't it crazy how we're such good friends now' narrative monologue for the scene.

(🔥"HOT CAVE OF HIS BODY" MENTION🔥) (i can't resist this phrase OTL i'm weak for it)(it's about protection it's about warmth it's about the primal imagery of being nestled under the weight of something powerful that loves you)(<- werewolf pilled)

In this last half of the snippet, I wanted Tim to kind of show his ass here, re: being in denial lol.

"He's not sure he knows how" - Tim, we all just saw exactly how you and Jason ended up here. Yeah, we skipped some of that early stuff, but we just saw the start of your deeper friendship. It started with an omelette.

"When he's more awake he'll feel a little guilty" - Tim, didn't you just explain to Jason and to us why you shouldn't feel guilty? That it's perfectly normal to share a nest with packmates? Why do you feel guilty about this, Tim?

"He didn't have to do that." You're right. He didn't have to do that, and he did have every opportunity to say no. Why didn't he, Tim?

He tries to explain that it must be because Jason trusts him. That Jason's trust is a wonderful and terrifying thing to have. Huh. Interesting. Why does that terrify you, Tim?

Then Tim picks up on Jason's scent. Jason's own fears are the only thing that can cut through Tim's spiraling thoughts right now. Jason's made peace with having what he wants so close but still so far; and yet, he still can't help but ache.

Wanting to ease Jason's discomfort is what makes Tim bold. He tries to make Jason more comfortable by reassuring him that Tim feels safe here. That he feels accepted, and that he accepts Jason - which is true, regardless of his secret, presumedly unreciprocated feelings. Aww.

The last paragraph was a two for one - transitioning us into wrapping up the scene, but also, low key? The thesis of what we've seen so far. This explains at least one facet of Tim's behavior, prepping us for his breakdown and the emotional reveal in the next interlude.

Why is Tim in denial? Why won't he admit, even to himself, that he wants Jason? Sexually, romantically? That Jason could be courting him, that Jason could want him too? Because he's always been better at masking than projecting. A lifetime of hiding is hard to unlearn.

I really enjoyed writing intricate rituals, and my biggest hope was that everyone would be ready to strangle Tim by the end of this scene - but also hurt for him by the end of the next. When you get used to the idea that you are unwanted or undesirable, in any capacity, it's truly difficult to let yourself be convinced otherwise. But there's bravery and freedom to be found in finally allowing yourself to believe it. <3

[trippin-over-my-fandoms]

So since I predicted that Sloane and Luther would get together from the day she was announced as well as a couple of scenes- I feel obligated to share w y'all my batshit crazy idea of what I thought might happen in season 4 and like now that we have TWO trailers why I think it might happen. In other words-

Me being delulu about tua s4 and y'all gotta deal w it

So my initial thought was that in this new timeline they are themselves slotted into lives they don't initially remember, that the longer they dwell in the timeline the more they remember and some come to accept. Up until the inevitable happens and the world is at risk again for whatever reason. However, saving the world means giving up these perfect lives for accepting their shitty dysfunctional reality to save each other. Because the more they stay and accept the more they lose of previous timelines.

I was gonna write a fanfic but then my resident evil obsession started and if y'all have read any of my fanfic y'all know my history with long-fics.

Why do I now think this could actually be the case you ask?

At the end of season 3 Luther takes off after our girl Sloane with Klaus following but everyone else is just so calm. Soooo which leads us to

Trailer 1

Viktor might own or work in a bar. Which the fact that he seems to be somewhat settled for sure tells us that some time has possibly passed between season 3 and 4

The sign says "home for wayward boys" implying that Allison may not have been in the group and maybe neither Viktor before the transition. I'm also wondering if now that his wife is back maybe in this new timeline they both fostered/adopted our main characters.

Oh yeah did I mention Reginald's moon wife is alive? His whole thing with the children was his alien (literally) way to save her. Now she's alive.

Allison is with claire so she also possibly has her life back.

Ben is getting out of jail and like it could be a "time has passed between seasons" thing or something happens in one of the episodes where he winds up locked up.

Diego is at a kid's party and either has his own kid or a niece or something. it's not claire and the family behind him is not his umbrella fam.

MY BOY IS SO SMALL ITS GONNA BE SO WEIRD SEEING HIM "NORMAL" THIS SEASON also he looks kinda sad. trailer two debunks what I initially thought of his reveal in this trailer because I thought oh haha what if it's a Halloween costume but like we'll get to my season 2 crazies hang in there.

Klaus is upside down in an interior (proven by the radiator) so he is either stuck, meditating, in a trance, or it's Sloane holding him there. I also kinda wonder if he's going through a clean streak or something OCD like with his addictions from the whole blue gloves thing. tbh i saw those in the promo and thought it was blue screen and his hands were gonna be effed up lol.

ben shouts "lets go kill this bitch" and allison corrects "this is a rescue mission" sooooooo is reginal and or his wife the bitch in question? and like sloane is the only one missing from our group so maybe she's the one being rescued? or maybe one of the new characters (like gene and jean).

which brings me to a theory I'll get to after my trailer break down and before the second breakdown.

side bar but the xmen stile jet is great lol

the subway is 100% a metaphor for the timelines AND that house diego and luther are at is the one from season two where they see reggie and grace at that party

the mind thingies in the blue room are so fucked up and i cant tell if thats sloane or wife hargreeves or a grace return in the bg but im wondering if it connects them to other timelines? Im wondering if the woman is sloane bc abigail has such curly hair but it does remind me of grace so idk.

upside down umbrella is insane okay

starting to think the jet might be flashbacks

A SPACE SUIT HAND REACHES INTO A RED FORCE SOMETHING FOR ANOTHER HAND AND SLOANE MAYBE????

fuck organization if you have read this far welcome to my brain- anyway- theory is that her place got swapped for abigail hargreeves' on the moon and now our beloved moon boy has to save her from that place. so symbolic.

now i was half put down a few shots later when we see victor emit a similar color power later but trailer 2 kinda backs some stuff up.

so trailer 2

opens with ben alone and confused and vicktor calls ben at the phone booth leading me to 100% believe they have split up again and have to find each other. very nostalgic of season 1 and 2

"there's something happening to you and it's only gonna get worse" so this is either about just ben OR its about all of them. either way ben did look confused so his eldritch horrors are either hulking out or he's losing memory chunks like my theory suggests. but it might revolve around ben bc vicktor specifically says "you" in the next time about the world ending.

(wondering if luther nervous farted in the car lmao)

Gene and Jean are possibly conspiracy theorists or agents posing as them but its interesting they are bringing attention to the altered timelines.

okay yeah world ending revolves around ben im tired okay and not proofing this you're stuck with my ramblings

the white violin is for sure abi hargreeves no doubt it doesn't look like sloane and plus the violin viktor got was bc reggie gave it to him that he got from his wife before she died okay. fanfic rn where viktor is the chosen child fanfic rn where abi loves all the kids fanfic rn where shes alive but shes just as much of a dick and we could have an epic trans story for viktor and expectations and yeah anyway-

whoever said it was jenny in trailer two i wanna kiss u on the lips ur prolly right and i love you for it

"ben died because we failed as a team" "and-" "and what" FOLLOWED BY LUTHERS CONFUSED FACE LEADS ME TO ONE OF TWO THINGS AND YOU ALREADY KNOW ONE OF THEM memory loss my beloved or something shocking occurs to him or like he seems something idk

more blue room stuff and uh maybe its not mind stuff maybe its power stimulation like what if they dont have their powers but ben does idk.

who TF is klaus digging up

OH GUYS NO I THINK LUTHER IS A MALE DANCER THATS WHAT THE SPACE SUIT IS IDK WTF IS THIS SHOW I LOVE IT

anyway they keep showing that one scene and like idk im delulu about sloane im so tired and i am not ready for this show to end in 8 days im sobbing y'all

[blackwood4stucky]

WIP Game ♡

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence / excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

Tagged by @gyokujyn 🩶

My word is TWIST

Snippets below the cut...

T - snippet from do you trust me with your scars enough to show me your heart (chapter 2)

The moon was quite full as he gazed into the sky. It was weird though. There was a peculiar crimson tint to that ball of light. It was in this moonlight that his skin seemed to itch less and that the burning decreased to a simmer. He became aware of that beloved aroma of peaches and spiced rum then. It made him turn toward the apartment across the way. He could see through the glass of an open window and into a room that almost mirrored his own. In it was Bucky lying prone on his bed looking directly at him. There was glimmer in his eyes that had Steve tripping over his feet to get across the space between them. He knew that look. Never had he been so grateful for the apartment between his and Bucky’s. It was just high enough that he could use it cross the distance whenever he felt the urge to visit with Bucky. He felt that urge often. He only used the front door to be respectful of his best friend’s parents. The simmer beneath his skin, that was steadily building at the look in Bucky’s eyes, had him caring very little about the proper way of doing things now.           With the crimson light shining down on him from the moon, Steve stole across the distance that separated him from his Bucky. He crept through the window and almost groaned at the overwhelming scent that made up Bucky in bloom. Taking in his surroundings, he noticed the bowl of bone broth sitting on the bedside table. The low whines coming from the bed are what made him scramble over. “Stevie.” Bucky’s voice was reedy with want.

W - this is an untitled fic that came to me while working on venom!steve

What if the asset kidnaps Steve during the great search for Bucky Barnes...

That's all I've got on that so far lmfao

I - snippet from those that live between sunset and moonrise from the blade of nightshade, be my strength not my ruin series

          “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” The sound of the vampire’s chuckles scent shivers down his spine, Bucky valiantly tried to keep his body from betraying him but failed. He could only be grateful that the blond didn’t comment on it.           “I asked if you were all right.” The vampire was still clutching his hand. The way those cool fingers felt lightly caressing the burns caused even more slick to leak into his pants. Bucky was too outdone with his body’s responses. Never has he ever had such a strong reaction like this to anyone. “That seems like quite the burn.”           “It— it doesn’t hurt too bad,” Bucky said, internally berating himself for stuttering.            “So, Dr. Barnes—           “How do you know my name?” He questioned the vampire, hastily stepping back only to collide with the table, dropping his bag in the process.           “You’re wearing your Isipho Industries badge,” the blond said steadying him. “I’ve got to say, I’m surprised to see they hired anyone on, are you new?”           “Hardly,” Bucky scoffed as he put more space between the two of them, the tome in his bag momentarily forgotten on the ground. “I’ve been working at II for about a few years now.”           “Ahh, I must be out of touch then. I recently moved back to the city and haven’t really caught up on any affairs from the professional world just yet.”           “You live here too?”           A wry grin pulled at the corners of Steve’s lips as he nodded. “Yeah, I’m in Flatbush.”           “Oh,” Bucky smiled nervously in return. “I’m over there too.”           Steve hummed in surprised. “I’m really intrigued now, an omega witch in Flatbush. A scientist at II no less. They’re such an exclusive company, one of my colleagues applied for a position but was turned down in favor for someone else.”           “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Did they find another job?” Bucky asked.           “They did, and they’re very happy at Pym Tech.”           “That’s good then.” Bucky looked past his vampire companion to see Jack eyeing the two of them suspiciously and sighed. Jack was a nosy sonovabitch and he wouldn’t put it past the guy to say anything to the coven about what he saw today. The last thing he needed was a chance meeting with a random vampire out in the open to be hot gossip straight off the press.           “I was wondering, would you mind indulging my curiosity by joining me for lunch?”           Bucky was taken aback by the question. He couldn’t quite believe that a vampire was asking a witch out like this. It was unheard of, and in public no less. It was against certain outdated rules that he didn’t bother to heed, but definitely didn’t think he would have a chance to break. The smile that graced the blond’s features wasn’t menacing but it did promise many things that the slick pooling in his underwear and his omega hindbrain definitely liked the idea of. He could even see a hint of sharp teeth as they peeked from the vampire’s lips.           “I have plans, sorry.” He looked down at his watch and thanked his lucky stars that his lunch break truly was nearly over. “I’m late for them now, actually. If you’ll excuse me.”           He was about to reach down and pick up the tome when the vampire beat him to it. The blonde handed it to him and, for a moment, their hands touched. Looking up, he could see the blond tense his jaw before putting his hand in his pocket. Bucky could have sworn that he saw something on the vampire’s palm and quirked his brow in question. Before he could attempt to ask, the blond produced a business card. It read Dr. Steven Grant Rogers with an impressive list of letters behind his name.           “I’ll see you around, Dr. Barnes.”

S - snippet from the burning embers of a dying world series prequel aka stucky dune au

Steve stands at the cliff’s edge, witnessing the ships rising from the crystalline waters of Vanaheim and into the starry skies, he can’t help but think of a time when life was much simpler.

T - snippet of from what i've tasted of desire, i hold with those who play with fire aka dark twilight x stucky au

The sensation of his stomach swooping as the plane begins its descent pulls Bucky’s attention away from the open window and onto the filled page. The drawing etched onto the parchment had been transformed into the likeness of the fine line tattoo inked onto his skin. Delicate strokes mimic the lace of a garter belt. Harsh segments and bold shading depict the tale of a blade carved from bone, gifted to him by his bunǎ. It’s the barely there shadows below a cross and beads that remind him of rosaries. Bucky doesn’t understand his own fascination with them but he has drawn them ever since he can remember. It was only fitting that he had them memorialized on his flesh.

The excerpt is inspired by this photo. "Bunǎ" is grandmother in Romanian.

no pressure tags: @ellethespaceunicorn

Your word is DARK

[jesse-cosay]

ik u said it doesnt have to be jesslake but. can you do jesslake w 20 👀

"Hey! I'm just catching up on homework." Jesse was sitting at the living room table. True to his words, papers were strewn all across the coffee table.

It was kind of a lot if Lake was being honest.

"Wanna sit with me?" He patted the floor next to him. Because of course he wasn't sitting on the couch. Hell, there were a couple of books on the couch behind him, too. He was using it more as a table than for its intended purpose.

"Sure."

Lake was careful as they stepped in between the stray pages. Squeezing into the small space just to his left.

They were pressed against his side, but even still. A few papers crinkled, underneath them.

"Sorry." They offered lamely. Jesse only shrugged, focusing back on the work before him.

Lake hadn't brought anything to do with them. Hadn't been planning to sit beside Jesse while he busied himself.

"Why is there so much?" They asked, looking over one of the abandoned worksheets they'd crumpled as they'd sat down.

"Well, I was on the train for quite a while."

Lake winced. Tulip had been gone for nearly half a year. Was there a pile of schoolwork waiting for her too?

How much homework did they have to catch up on? They hadn't gone to school their whole life. Lake tried not to grimace at the thought.

They quickly got bored of the worksheets. Unable to really understand any of the questions. Or read many of the words.

Instead, they focused on Jesse. Watching his brows furrow and brighten as he slowly puzzled his way through the homework. Bit by bit, getting it done.

It was cute. His hair was pulled back. Bangs tied up with a scrunchie. Lake could properly see his face now, not hidden behind his hair.

Actually, it looked a little silly. Yeah. Not adorable. It was like one of those little troll things that had funky hair that stood up all pointy. It was obnoxious. Not cute at all.

Sometimes it was all too easy to forget Jesse was a high schooler. That when Lake started school they wouldn't see him until the ride home. Especially when he did things like tying his hair up like a baby who couldn't eat without getting sauce everywhere.

It was nice though, getting to admire him in full. Not that Lake was staring. Or oogling or being weird or whatever. Jesse had invited them to sit with him. They were just passing the time. You could learn a lot about people just by looking- if you really took the time to look. Yeah. That's what it was.

There was a bit of skin, near the edge of his hairline, that looked different. The hair there parted near the- it was a scar, wasn't it? The skin was raised, a bit different than the rest. Discolored. It had to be a scar. Lake was pretty sure Jesse would have mentioned a skin condition by now.

They reached out. Running their thumb over the area. Feeling the rise and fall of skin curiously.

Brown eyes stared at them. Inquisitive and unblinking.

"I thought- there's a scar. Here." Lake didn't pull their hand away. Stuck to the spot with his gaze on them.

"Oh!" He smiled. His eyes squinty with the sheer force of it. Lake almost had to look away.

"It was when I was really young." He laughed, looking a little shy. "It was, ah, it was totally my fault."

"The neighbors had this dog- it was so cute-"

"You got bit by a dog?"

"Oh- no, no! Bandit was a sweetheart!" He assured them, leaning forward as he insisted. "But they had a wooden fence and I would climb the tree near it to see him and- well."

"You fell?"

"I fell." He admitted. "I'm just lucky it wasn't worse. I knicked my head on the fence on the way down. It was low enough that I didn't break anything."

Jesse shrugged awkwardly. "I stopped trying to get into their yard after that."

Lake laughed. "I knew you were always a rule breaker at heart."

Their hand still hovered near his face. Hesitant to pull away. Jesse hadn't shaken them off. Pushing into the touch more than anything.

"The flecs did almost have me there, for a second." He teased. "But you made a compelling argument."

Something in their chest squeezed. And Lake leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the small patch of skin on his hairline. "You were always going to make the right choice."

[honeybeewhereartthee]

Prequel Crystal Hearts AU

➽─PREV--CH22: The beginning of the End─NEXT─❥

You and him held each other hand as you travel from human world to the world of fae. Spending each moment together as he decided to accompany you till the end. Days and time slowly passed by the moment with one another made the bond between you two to straighten.

.

.

.

"omae." You heard someone called as you softly arrange the flower to make a flower crown. "Hmm?" You look up and saw kohaku walking toward your direction.

"Hanii!" You beam when he seat beside you in the beautiful flowery patch in the cliff side, admiring the beautiful view of the world of fae, vast sea.

"I made a flower crown for you." You put the last flower to finish the flower crown with four blooming tulips and seat up to put on top of his head.

"Happy anniversary!" After putting the flower crown, you kiss his forehead. "Mwah. Love you eheh."

"Ah... " His eyes widen as blush slowly cover his face. Covering his face. "I--... I'm been beaten up to it. " He mumble as he felt his cheeks warming up. "Ah... Y-ya to quick than m-me." He added as he went to get something from his pocket.

"Hmm? Well, I dunno your going to come here soon! So your quick too!" You giggle as you seat down hack to the grass and take out your basket from space and put out the food you prepare. " Let's have A cute date!"

As you start to put food on his plate and yours, the moment you put it in front of him, he held your hand. "Hmm? What's wrong?"

"W-wont you--..." He can't even finish his words as he felt embarrassed. "I..." Holding your hand, he take a deep breath.

"MC! MC!"

Tragically the moment broke as certain light comes running toward you two. "Ai!" You turn to look at your friend, noticing quite well the gaze your spouse is giving.

"mcchi~ guess what, guess what!" Hearing the nickname and how close aira is to you, not even caring about the gaze kohaku is giving him. " We manage to find the dollmaker whereabouts. Ehehe! " He told you the news." Through it's more complicated now since we don't know how to bring them home. "

" Ooo! That's good! " Your happy for doll Aira for the news." I can help you, if you want. " you offer as you glancing at kohaku who's gaze is hidden with his bangs.

" Eh. No way~ you already help before! " Aira pouts as his eyes slowly went to kohaku's." What's up with you, kohakuchi?" He tilt his head in confusion. " Why do you have the same look of phantom when the dollmaker is being affectionate to others??" Aira rise a brow at kohaku.

"... "

"*Gasp. Your a love interest. "Suddenly his eyes widen In realization.

" W-what... " Kohaku was surprised before he blush.

"In each world. There always the highlight that show the characteristics of someone who paired with mc. They kinda nutcase. Unhinged people who would wish for a world where's there's only them, to spend eternity with them, to consume who lead there eyes on their mc." As he narrate that, you giggle. "Shh. Kohaku won't do that."

"Oh. So kohaku here isn't the love interest?"

"No. His my hubby (´ε｀ ) "you corrected doll Aira. " O-omae...!?" The certain hubby turn bright red .

"..." Aira quickly let go of the hug and made a space between you two "MCchi you could told me his level unhinge higher than love interest! Those people are crey crey."

" Hey. That's rude. Don't call kohaku crey crey. " You pout at the doll words. " Gasp. I just realize. " Aira look at kohaku." That's why your weird before. " He seems to think of something. " What. That's very rude to tell someone that so blandly. "The fae cross his arms.

" when is before.?" You ask." Can't tell. The time period in your world is off Putting." The doll shrugged his shoulder. " Air-pyon wanna joined the picnic?" You invited him. " Omae!" The person who's supposed to be your date wants to complain but shut it when he sees you happily giving sweets to aira.

" Sometimes I felt your an odd mc." Aira mumble as he take bite of the sweets, alarm and on guard while giving a side glance to kohaku. " Oh. You think so? Maybe because I technically don't have a name. MC is a name air-pyon called me when we first meet." You mumble.

"Ehh. But you have similarities to the dollmaker. I was so scared and felt relief when I saw you. I want to help you. I was so hopeless and can't do anything worth to put a dent to others effort in helping thr case with the dollmaker... It's particular my fault too."

" "Your fault"? Don't blame yourself air-pyon. It's no one fault, it's probably what is destined to happened." You smile. " Did you see? To say it like that?" He stopped eating. He wonder why you say it's destiny when it could be prevented if wanted too. Not all things are up to Destiny after all.

" Hmm? Who knows... Did I or did I not..." Ambiguous words and smile, you no longer continue to say anything.

" Psps. Kohakuchi." Aira psps. Kohaku after a moment. "Be careful with this person. All mc have tendency to do something stupid. As your best friend in another universe. I'll giving you a friendly warning. That person is crey crey that can make all love interest be unhinged." He don't even try to tell that to a whisper as you clearly heard it causing you to pout.

"Hey! I'm not stupid! ԅ( ͒ ۝ ͒ )ᕤ" You complained.

" Sure, sure. Tell that to the facts and proof. Cause you aren't fooling anybody! ☜ (↼_↼)" Aira is giving you side eyes.

" Waaah. WAHH. I'm being boolied!" You shed crocodile tears and dramatically faint to kohaku arms who chuckle as he look at you having fun. Through he does keep it mind the words of "air-pyon"

The three of you have a fun time. through it lasted for an hour or so later, doll Aira have to leave. Leaving the unconscious fae Aira happily sleeping in your lap.

"You wanted to say something earlier. Do you still wish to tell me what's it's all about?" You hummed as you brush few locks of Aira hair. Kohaku stares at you in daze. " H-huh...oh..." His eyes widen as he realize your question.

"...do you..." He stare at you for a moment, wondering if he should continue. "Hmm?" You tilt your head in wonder.

"... Will you entrusted your life with me as I'll do with mine to yours... ?"

"..." You stared at him, slowly processing what his saying. Then it hit you as blush cover your face. "Y-your. . You wanna e-exchange h-heart with m-me..?!" You cover your face in embarrassment. You were caught off guard with his question now you fear to be seen with such redden face! "Ahh.. d-dont stare at me t-too m-much..." You squeak out a complain as he stared at your cute embarrassed face, that he rarely seen, he felt he won by seeing it today.

"W-why can't I?" Oh gott, his also in a bashful state but he refuse to look away. " Yes I do mean t-that... E-exchange h-heart with me... Marry me again but this time in the traditions of faes...!" He find himself almost yelling as he reach out to held your hands again. Determination in his eyes.

" W-wa... W-wha..." Your unable to form right words as you felt light headed from how much your heart beats start to go mad and your warm cheeks that seems to erupt from how red you are.

"Y-you... S-sure?" Biting your inner cheeks you ask him, he nodded with no hesitation. "Hm!"

"Okii... But..." You smile through your face still red.

"... MC." You two snap out of the trance when Aira slowly wake up. "Ai!" You stared at Aira who look at you with drowsiness still in his gaze.

"How's your sleep?" As your attention drift to aira, you slowly let go of Kohaku's hand but he refuse to stop holding your right hand. You raise a brow but don't question it as you pinch aira cheeks with your free hand. "You were sleeping like a baby hehe. How cute. Did you sleep well?" You ask again.

"No. I have a bad dream." He pouts as he remembers a bit of his dream. "You were gone... No one remember you... It's painful... I want to wake up but can't..." He turn his head sidewise as he hugs your waist. He start to sob at how terrible thr dream was. "I... I dont want it to happened. MC... MC. Is your fate still the same?"

"Hmm? Ahaha. Of course." You wonder if Ai dream of something strange to ask such question. Fae sometimes get dreams of possible future after all, through the percentage just differ in the power level of fae. Instead of worrying about what might he dream about your future, you think of how ai have finally strong enough to have such dreams.

"That's not funny... Why do you think it's f-funny?... It's not funny...!" He weeps.

" What's wrong with love-han?" Kohaku realize that aira is acting quite strange. "...*hic.." aira don't answer and just continue to cry.

"I'm sorry." You mumble. "I guess it's probably my fault." You added.

"I cannot promise you an eternity. Because one day I'll leave. " You told continue to add to your previous statement before aira wake up. Aira shakes when he heard such familiar words from you.

" MC. Stop saying that... "

" MC said you'll not gonna leave!"

Both of them says in the same time.

" Ehh. But I never "promise" to stay . " You giggle as tears fall from your eyes. " If I don't follow through. Things would not end well."

"It won't end well either way! MC!"

"Love-han is right. Even if you follow through. That bullshit fate. How can you say it's going to be fine. What about people you'll leave behind?"

"..." You smile. "Everything would be fine."

"... " Aira suddenly realize something. "MC... You... That dream... That will happened..." He can't help but gasp, terrified how cruel and how you gonna plan everything.

"Hmm? Ahh.. why are you glaring at me aira~?" You act innocent even through aira already guess your plan. As he dream of your fate and your plan.

"What's going on?"

"Kohachi! That person is so hateful! They are gonna do something stupid!" He shakes kohaku, desperate and in angst, wanting to find a comrade to stop your crazy ways.

" Huh?" Kohaku raise his brow.

" They are gonna do despicable, like self sacrificing for the universe! And then make sure no one remember them Enough to mourn!" (Aira)

"..."

Kohaku stared at you. Before you know it, the two have confined you.

.

.

.

"You do know I can easily escape this right?" You chuckle as you eat a cookie while inside a makeshift prison. "Why are ya not escaping then?"Your hubby rolled his eyes as he look at you having no care what so ever at all. He really can't understand what's up with your way of thoughts. It's too unpredictable.

"I dunno. This seems fun. So I'll stay. Eheh." You giggle as you roll around the cover of the bed. "I don't think you all over reacting. But that day isn't going to happened anytime soon." You yawn as you felt drowsy.

You heard the door open and someone walking up to the bed. Seating beside you, you open your eyes to see Kohaku staring down at you.

"What's wrong hanii?" You mumble as you lean to hand that reach out to cherish your face.

"Why are ya so complicated. I wanna understand ya better." He mumble feeling hopeless.

"Hmm? " You held his hand and thought of it. "Then do you wish you will? There's consequences or dare thing that might effect your way of thoughts if you understand where im Going for." You seat up and lean against him.

"That aira words is right then... You will make people who likes and adore ya, go crazy..."

He circle his arms around you as he rest his head on your shoulder blade.

"Ehh... I don't wish for you to be one. I hope youll enjoy your life and smile... But that's impossible as you meet me already."

He froze at your words.

" Do you wish to not meet me?" He dont want to hear your answer but he can't help but ask.

" No. I will never. I'm so happy to meet you." You honestly says. " But won't your life be more happy without meeting me?"

"...no. it's not. I been wanting to meet you, I dream of meeting you." He made you lean back to look deep into your eyes as he said those words.

"Would you believe me if I said I fallen in love with you before we ever meet?" He realize all this time, the person he wish to meet was you.

Maybe it took him many sweets and him falling for you on his own after his suppose to be heartache when he can no longer have contact with his only connection with you before.

He thought he will never meet you, but in the end when he thought he don't have a chance, you come falling to his arms, literally.

"Clichy. " You giggle which made him flabbergasted as you ruined the moment. "Omae...." He sigh as he pinch your cheeks. "Wwahhh. Wahht (what).?" You pout but your words turn to gibberish with him pinching your sweet cheeks.

"You only say that cause my cousin did some cupid magic!" You pointed out.

"... Why did you cousin choice me then?" He rolled his eyes at your usual reasoning. He already heard of this for the nth time. He did not like it through when he heard it for the first time, how could someone put a magic and force someone to love someone? But thinking how he likes you before he even meet you cousin, his fitting rage to punch a clown face disperse.

"... I-i... I don't know." You were unable to answer the statement leading him to win the argument. "Your little friend admire you yet how come your cousin don't choice him?" His smile look so poisonously sweet. He really did wonder why. But seeing your face that don't dare meet his eyes, like you remember something bad, he wonder if he ask something triggering.

" I-i don't know... N-no... I think I know... " He watch you cover your face. " I'm not... Honest. . I don't want to ... To push... Something." You felt embarrassed if you think about your personality to not say that you like aira but never dated to confess and tells it's more than friends before. You were only totally honest to kohaku.

"... You like aira?"

"... He was my first ever friend. I get rejected once already before him." You really don't want to say more on your first crush as his gaze is too scary now.

"..." He stared at you, you don't know what to do as tears start to build up. You don't like how he stare at you like you did something bad to him.

"S-sorry... Sorry.... It's past tense... Sorry i get attach to people... " You don't dare meet his eyes. You felt bad. Maybe because your telling him about your tragic love story.

"... It doesn't matter." He sighs. " If... If not for your being connected to aira... I will never have a chance for an encounter with you... " He thought about it.

"I guess I owe Love-han... Because I meet you." With redden face he reach out to held your face, staring at your eyes. Wiping your tears away.

"It... It doesn't matter who you like before... Or " he don't want to add the next part, it's too hateful. "In The future... " He don't want it to happen, to see you liking someone else.

"Because I'm your present... And your companion for eternity... I don't.... I won't plan to ever divorce you or accept any annulment ok? I would marry you hundreds to thousand times. Than divorce you once... "

Resting his forehead head against yours. He smiled through he felt embarrassed by his declaration. But seeing you staring at him with wide eyes as your face slowly cover with warmth and blush makes him chuckle.

"H-hanii... D-do you know what four tulips mean..." You suddenly began as you fidget, your face is too warm. Your heart seems to be singing a romantic song. Putting your hand over your chest, you don't dare look away from his gaze.

"Hmm? What does it mean omae...?"

"I..."

As you began your words, your crystal Heart become visible in his eyes, beautiful passionate red.

"...I will love you forever." You finally said as you reach for his right hand touch your fragile heart, it's a very intimate and reckless move if you make person who don't trust to do it but with embarrassed face.

"Omae..."

His purple eyes that show moment where a symbol of heart and cross appear stared at your crystal heart in fascination. You felt tingling and weird feeling that made you blush when he touches your heart.

"Hmn..."You felt so embarrassed by your own sound even through his just touching your crystal heart.

He seems very intrigued at your cute Expression as he trace each part of the crystal. You cover your mouth before you let our concerning sound.

"H-hanii-nn!! C-can... Y-you n-not d-do that.... Hmn.." pouting as he tease you, smiling like a sly cat. "What a alluring face your making." He stared back to your eyes, before he close it.

"I too, will also love you forever, omae..."Like the distance between you, as he give you a passionate kiss.

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"... And I will do anything to keep you safe from your so called fate... Because our eternity don't began yet. This very existence, I dedicated it for you... So promise me ... So promise me to never give up and continue on."

Showing his own passionate crystal heart to you, his purple love sick gaze stared back to you (color) one as he made you held his own heart like you did for Him.

"I-... I promise." You heard you own promising something absorb as your too drown to the moment of affection.

"Good... I love you so much, I will die for you for thousand times... Ahah." He joked at the heat of the moment. "Hey! Don't do that! If you want to began eternity with me. Then I have to bring you back how many times you died!" You casually says back...

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Not knowing that maybe it's jinxing oneself already

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You stared at beautiful crystal Hearts as the void around you tells you, your in the end. There's no one around you anymore except the End.

Tears falling from your eyes, you began your story where you, who never once thought of reversing the hour glass of time for the people--... For someone. You care and love,

Looking at the Purple butterfly, your tears all dread up, with outreach hand, you offer him a deal. To bring back what is lost.

And so your story of hundreds and more turns began.

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➽───────────────❥

We're now done with prequel, going back to main story now for Chapter 23

(if want to be tagged pls comment or Send mail) Tag List : @valeriele3 @yinenovica

[hhoneyglasss]

media comprehension and interpretation {about : redacted audios}

hello all ! i’ve been thinking about this for awhile and i’ve seen it been discussed quite a few times, and i’d like to speak about it as well and add in my own perspective to a very valuable conversation. the reason for me finally writing this now was a post made by @darlin-collins regarding a recent fanfic uploaded to ao3 under the sam/darlin tag. thank u @darlin-collins !

tldr for this post: media comprehension skills r very important, and there’s a significant portion of the fandom who seems to be lacking them. also, it is okay to not like a character, but it’s not okay to drag down others’ works of that character bcuz of that dislike.

so, to begin, i wanna say that the issue that the redacted fandom is hving is super common and not exclusive to it in specific. every fandom has these same issues with mischaracterization, disagreements over who likes/dislikes what character, etc., but the issue many others and i hv noticed is these issues r incredibly disproportionate to the fairly small size of the redacted fandom. this fandom is tiny in the vast expanse of all media, yet there are so many fights, disagreements, and hatred thrown at fictional characters and real people alike. it’s just strange—strange enough to notice at least.

so when i first heard about the discourse on (specifically) tiktok about cutie, i was surprised at the very visceral things i’ve seen being said about them. it’s the bright eyes situation all over again, only seemingly worse—and it is proven for the millionth time that time itself is not a sphere, but a flat circle.

if you don’t like cutie, i honestly don’t blame u, even if some might. they, admittedly, aren’t the easiest to like due to their constant disrespect of geordi’s boundaries and overall questionable decisions that most ppl wouldn’t align themselves with. however, the catch is that there’s a difference between criticizing a character and, for lack of a better word, “hating” on them for no particular reason besides the fact that u don’t like them.

i’ve also noticed this w vincent and caelum recently, and i will be fully transparent—i like neither of them. personally, they aren’t the types of characters i gravitate to, which is okay. what’s not okay is skewing lovely and vincent’s relationship to portray vincent as a sadistic and manipulative mastermind. do i think he’s a little weird in canon ? yeah, but not THAT weird. also, i understand trying to compare lovely and sam’s turnings in the sense that they were both turned during fatal situations, but not in the sense of consent. lovely gave consent, sam didn’t, and that’s where the very bold line is drawn. don’t blur it and try to make vincent seem as bad as alexis, bcuz u look dumb.

and i wouldn’t recommend trying to make stuff up abt caelum, bcuz u might just look even dumber.

so, now, onto the fic mentioned earlier a couple of times, i’ll link it below if u’d like to read it for urself, but i ask that u don’t send the author harassment or disparaging messages, even if i say things that might disagree with their view of tank/darlin’ and their relationships with others.

i will say that the tags of the post caught me off guard at first bcuz, once again, for lack of better words, they seemed “bitter” towards both tank and sam for a reason that was not really elaborated on. however, i read thru the fic anyway and was surprised by their interpretation of tank’s character.

but the thing is is that different interpretations of media should be encouraged within a fandom’s space, even if those interpretations aren’t the most popular or well-liked. this is especially true with a character like tank, whose personality in canon can only be displayed through implied dialogue and sfx noises. there is no clear-cut interpretation of them to be had in the first place—they’re a soundless, faceless character.

and if u read this fic in particular, i can understand y u would dislike it because of the way tank is portrayed. they’re portrayed in a significantly more negative light than they are in canon or in most fandom works, but again, it’s somebody else’s idea of them, not ours.

the real issue i hv w the fic as a whole is the author’s statements in the comment section regarding other fandom works made abt tank. they’ve taken to calling others’ works “cookie-cutter” and “boring,” and i don’t think i should have to say this, but i will anyways—don’t insult other ppl’s work, especially said work that isn’t hurting anybody. it makes u sound like an asshole, and it’s not needed. those opinions can be kept to urself bcuz they’re unnecessary and hurtful.

i also saw the author say that they felt like they were seeing the same interpretation of tank over and over again and that they wanted to try smth different, which is totally okay ! innovation should be welcomed, and i understand seeing a missing space regarding a certain character’s representation in a fandom. i saw a similar thing where, with tank, i didn’t see many feminine interpretations of them (which might just be bcuz i nvr visually saw them, as in they do exist but i was nvr recommended them) so i made a feminine tank. but the difference is that i didn’t insult others’ works, bcuz their works hold just as much value even if our interpretations of the same character are different.

and again, i want to make it clear that idc that this person doesn’t like tank or sam, even if they’re my favorite couple within the redactedverse bcuz at the end of the day it doesn’t matter. they aren’t real, no actual person is being hurt. i rly just wanted to draw attention to what they were saying abt other ppl’s fics, artworks, etc.

sry this got kinda long, but they’re thoughts i’ve been hving for awhile. hopefully i didn’t ramble too much, but if anything doesn’t make sense, feel free to ask me to clarify, i don’t mind at all. thx for reading this all the way thru, tho, thanks ! hv a good day/afternoon/evening/night ! <3

[c-is-for-circinate]

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

[cebwrites]

mmmmaybbeee sanji x male reader?😵‍💫 i love sanji sm fbjsbfbwnf im a sucker for angst mostly and if you want, u can add comfort after⭐️

mmmmm sneej my favorite pretty little barbie to doll up and then throw violently at the wall 💕 you didn't specify angst about what so i kinda just went on what was off the top of my head- gonna insert my eeeevil leftist queer agenda muahahahaa ASDFGDFDFHGK

jokes aside i’m a soft bitch that can rarely writes angst, i hope you enjoy nonetheless, anon! ;w;

Sanji x masc reader HCs

hurt/comfort(?), a little angst, cw: mild homophobia  word count: 0.8k

Sanji is... a conflicted person to put it lightly, in all aspects

He barely made it out of an extremely abusive household by nothing less than the grace of god and the skin of his teeth, but the situation he landed in wasn’t great either

Zeff definitely tried his best, but he and the people on the Baratie instilled a latent (obvious, depending on who you ask) misogyny in him disguised as ‘chivalry’ as Sanji grew up and internalized it  

Imo the way Sanji acts around women/fems (i.e., worshipping the ground they walk on, treating them like goddesses, refusing to fight them, etc.) is a coping mechanism to make up for all the shitty male figures in his life so he overcompensates by being extremely affectionate feminine people in return, on top of how easily hostile he gets around men

Any attempts at courting by a masc person pre-timeskip would be swiftly and immediately shut down with his usual deflections of changing the subject, getting all weird and making up an excuse to leave (he’d feel bad about it and leave a snack out for you later, though), or flat out telling you that he’s “straight”

(Yes everyone on this fruity ass crew is side-eyeing him but he's gradually sorting himself out ajfgdksgdjrs)

He’d avoid spending too much time alone with you where possible and even though he still cares for you as his nakama, it mainly shows through his cooking alone - at worst, he’ll flinch away from your touch after the initial confession or if he knows you’re interested and now all parties involved feel awful

We all stan for Ace being Sanji’s bisexual awakening in this house but I feel like he’d still feel conflicted with himself about those feelings after Ace left, even more so after he finds out what happened during Marineford

He rationalizes that allowing room for such feelings will only result in more pain, using Ace’s passing as his reasoning, and vows to never think about it again

What Sanji doesn’t account for-- is Ivankov and the ladies on Momoiro; needless to say he’s much more well-adjusted and comfortable in his sexuality post-timeskip 

Meeting up with you on Sabaody after two years, it’s a lot to process

You might not want to be alone with him, much less talk about what happened, but Sanji is surprisingly sheepish when he asks you to have lunch with him - not in the weird, stilted way he used to where you saw that he was uncomfortable and knew what exactly about - but almost like he was bashful about something

Sanji, bashful- around another man? Laughable

It has been a while, though, so you give him a chance, one and only one; you’re sure if he fucks it up there’s at least a few of your nakama that will hang and quarter him at a moment’s notice Robin immediately comes to mind

He borrows the kitchen in Shakky’s bar to whip up something simple yet still exquisite in every way, every part incredibly to your tastes, too; Sanji’s present throughout your meal with his own plate of favorites, chatting with you here and there and absolutely glowing when you compliment his food

It’s not until after, though, when you notice that the Rip-off Bar is emptier than usual, devoid of its titular hostess and (only) barkeep, leaving you alone with your crew’s swirly cook

You look up when Sanji apologizes, gaze firmly fixed on the space between his glass and yours as he takes a shaky breath, steels himself, and continues by repeating his apology - for the way inexcusable way he treated you, explaining the reasons and factors that lead to why he acted so horribly but never justifying those actions, how he’s self reflected and gone through the, frankly mortifying, process of breaking himself down to rebuild as a better person, and, if possible, if you would still have him

That he’d like to start over, properly

You stare at him, at a bit of a loss for what to say; Sanji’s looking at you now, hopefully but with a lot of uncertainty, hands clasped on the table

You sit up to reach across the table, brushing the backs of your fingers against his cheek, his breath catches with the smile you give him, but alas, it’s a rueful one

You tell him that you’re appreciative, but it’s just not right, at least not right now, your forgiveness has to be earned and he hasn’t done enough to do that yet - you tell him that something more would be possible in the future, but for now you’re just happy to have him as your friend again

Sanji lets go of the breath he held, chuckling a little into the back of his hand before he takes yours and gently kisses your knuckles, thanking you for the honesty

You outstretch your hand as he stands to clear the dishes, he’s grateful for your offer - for a second, being wrapped in Sanji’s arms and surrounded by his warmth, his cologne, the bridge of his nose against your neck so tenderly and then it’s all gone in an instant when he pulls away, you wonder if your decision was a mistake

[pennylanewrites]

Hey. I have a request for a mafia!yandere Erwin who becomes obsessed with the reader. He kills/hurts men who flirt with reader. But the twist is that the reader is yandere for Erwin is they become a crazy power couple. Is that too weird? 😅

omg no it’s not weird at all! one direction mafia wattpad has raised me for this exact moment in time and space. I hope I did your request justice though bc I have NOT written anything like this ever teehee<3

heavily inspired by Lana Del Rey’s song “You can be the boss”

＊You can be the boss, daddy＊

dark content ahead! Minors DNI or levi will make you scrub all the windows clean

word count: 2k

pairings: Erwin Smith x female reader

CW: yandere behavior, use of alcohol, drugs, mentions of murder, gunplay, spitting, choking, cum eating, non-con filming, briefly tied up and drugged Erwin lolsies

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

It happened. Yes, you know, the thing that happens in every cliche. The mafia boss had his eye on you since the moment he first saw you on a college campus, working your ass off as a part-time barista. You didn’t even question why your rent lowered by 200€, nor how you passed classes you forgot you even attended. I mean, who would question that? Maybe a god has a liking for you. Yes, that’s exactly what this is.

The only bad thing about being a god’s favorite was the horrible luck in dating you had. Every single one of your partners or past flirts has gone missing and the only link between them is you. You’ve lost count of how many times you ended up a suspect at the police station, only for your criminal record to vanish and the chief of police to beg for your forgiveness.

Four years after he first laid his eyes upon you, now 23 and unsuspecting, you accepted the “boss’s” invitation for you and your friends to have fun in the VIP room. So there you are now, snorting coke off your friend’s bare stomach and leaning back your delicate body to meet a muscular chest.

“You okay there, darling?” A low voice whispered in your ear, irony coating it perfectly. Your revealing dress was riding up your thighs, leaving enough space for the man to rest his big, soft hands. Before the lines of coke and alcohol you consumed, you thought it was scary how many guns were in the room, but then again, maybe all club owners are like this?

That’s where you’re wrong sweetie. Nobody in the world compares to this one.

“Why don’t we take this elsewhere? I have a penthouse right above this club.”

“I can’t leave my friends here...” You mumbled, yet still got up with the familiar yet so unfamiliar man.

“They’re in great hands.” He assured you, glancing over to Levi and Hange, those were apparently the names of the extremely handsome people fucking your best friends shamelessly in front of you and the boss.

You found yourself in a penthouse, memory hazy of how you got there, but you knew for sure that the pictures on the coffee table were of you.

“Is this-” you took one of them in your hands, but he shoved them away and caught both your wrists in one of his palms.

“Now now, little one. You know not to play with fire or you’ll get burned.” He leaned down, breath heavy with expensive whiskey and cigarette smoke.

“What’s your name?” You whispered, lips barely grazing his.

“Erwin Smith.” Before you could react, Erwin was kissing you like his life depended on it. He’s waited for this moment for four years and if you told him he’d be fucking you a few minutes later, he wouldn’t believe it. Your dizzy head barely had time to register the name you knew all too well. Erwin Smith; the feared and powerful boss of the city’s mafia. Everyone knew of his name, yet no one knew what he looked like. But you did. You wondered if he said that to everyone just for some sex, but no, you could tell you were different.

“W-wait–” you looked down from the pillow your head laid on.

“Shh. I won’t hurt you.” He assured you as a gun trailed from your throat down to your panties, wet with anticipation of taking Erwin Smith. He used the gun to push the hem of your lace underwear down, then removing it completely with his free hand. You squirmed under the cold touch of the gun on your clit and your breath suddenly hitched in your throat when it entered your slit. You threw your head back, all previous worries disappearing as the sounds of your wetness filled Erwin’s ears, urging him to do more.

He wanted to take his time with you so bad, but you made it so hard for him when you squirmed under the faintest touch, soft mewls rolling from your tongue.

“More-please...”

“More what? What do you need, sweetie?”

“Your cock. Please, daddy.” You whined, back arching off the silk sheets. The title went straight to his dick, already throbbing from the moment he watched you dance with Hange and let them sniff coke off your breasts.

“Tell me, ___. Do you have a boyfriend?” He asked, hands ripping your dress apart, not caring about your whine.

“No!” You didn’t feel an ounce of embarrassment at how eager you were to please him.

“Did they all happen to disappear?” He grinned, pants falling from his toned legs on the marble floor before he pulled you from your feet to the edge of the bed.

“Wait...wha-ah!” Your stomach dropped as you put the pieces of a very difficult puzzle together, but you didn’t have time to react as Erwin’s tip stretched you ever so slightly.

“So tight,” he growled, “I was right to make all of them go away. You wouldn’t have been so perfect for me otherwise.” His words would make you want to vomit in a different setting, but this time, they were sent straight to your burning core, the need of being filled with his cock unbearable. You wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling him closer to make him push deeper inside you with a moan coming from both sides. You could feel every inch of him filling you up, the veins of his cock throbbing between your walls, stretching you out with a pain so perfectly bad.

“Daddy, harder! Harder, please!” You begged, his excruciatingly slow thrusts making you tear up in frustration. He leaned down, taking one of your breasts in his mouth and sucking on the sensitive nipple, hands wrapped tight around your waist for some support as he obliged to your request. Your moans filled the bedroom, music to Erwin’s ears, giving him motivation to pound into you faster. As his tip finally hit your cervix, your back arched off the mattress, hands wrapping around him and fingernails leaving crescent marks on his tattooed back. Though he didn’t mind; he wanted as much as possible to remember you with and that included the cameras set up in the perfect hidden spots, angles of your face and the obscene scene between your legs for him to watch after he kicked you out.

“You wanna know what happened to those boyfriends, little one?”

“Y-yes, daddy.”

“They’re all dead.” He whispered, chuckling darkly as his hands wrapped around your throat, cutting off your airway briefly. You opened your mouth, moans getting choked as he reached down and spit on your tongue. His hands went for your breasts, allowing you to breathe as he slapped your nipples to get a perfect moan from you.

“You killed them?” You whispered, trying to find some sobriety inside you. Though, the sloppy thrusting of Erwin’s cock, his balls slapping against your thighs,wet from your spilled juices, made it hard for you to focus. Erwin reached to the bedside table, getting an open bottle of tequila and taking a sip before tipping it over slightly to watch it fall on your stomach and breasts before it finally went into your open mouth. You swallowed with a small cough, going crazy at the way he sucked all of the alcohol off your body, as if he was ready to devour you whole.

And like that wasn’t enough, he started rubbing your clit. So fast, fingers pushing in for you to squirm, moving fast to make you cum while his cock fucked your perfect little cunt.

“Fuck, I’m cumming! Fuck, fuck, daddy!” You felt the familiar knot in your lower stomach come undone and looked down to see yourself squirting against his dick and beautifully carved abs. Out of breath, you relaxed on the bed, yet not for long as Erwin still chased his high. Your legs closed only for him to push them open with a grunt and your moans turned into whines from the overstimulation.

“Please-too sensitive daddy.” You breathed out, but something cold on your tongue made you gulp.

“How about I kill you too darling?” He said sweetly, tone contradicting his awful words. You licked and sucked on the tip of the gun that entered your mouth, watching his finger on the trigger with fear. Too immersed in the sucking, you slowly realized a sudden wave of air hit your sore hole. You looked up to see Erwin rubbing his dick, head tilted back with moans, as he finally shot a huge load of his warm, white cum on your breasts and stomach. With a grin, he gripped your jaw to force your mouth open, gun tossed on the floor. Two of his fingers scooped up some of his cum, taking them in his mouth and sucking them. You thought he would swallow, but when he leaned down and his lips met yours, you felt the cum mixed with saliva fall on your tongue and down your throat.

“I think you know what happens if anyone finds out about anything that was said or done here.” He chuckled with furrowed brows shading his amber eyes perfectly as he cocked a gun against your temple.

“Yes daddy.”

Three months later and you haven’t heard from Erwin Smith at all. The worst part was the videos of him fucking other women just like he fucked you in your inbox every night. You were starting to get tired of it, and even more obsessed with the man that fucked you so perfectly you haven’t felt that good since. Of course, you couldn’t let him do this just because he was in the mafia or whatever he claimed. Your parents were rich enough for you to hire a private investigator who found out all of those women’s names and addresses without questioning a thing. Speaking of money, you also had the power to rent a small, secluded storage space, hire people to demolish it and make it seem dangerous and out of order.

You visited that place once a week, making sure all of them were proped up perfectly for him to see. Yes, you were sure he’d love the little exhibition you worked so hard to show him.

Your plan worked perfectly. A few ominous notes and threats were enough for Erwin Smith to show up in that storage space by himself, exactly a year after your night together.

“Hello, mr. Smith. Come on in!” You greeted him with a smile, showing him in like it was your home you invited him into. His face dropped as soon as he saw the first exhibit, a girl sitting on the table, obviously quite dead already.

“Remember her? And her? Oh, and how could you forget her, the one you fucked in the bathroom!” You twirled around your victims, watching Erwin’s reactions. At first his face dropped, but when it finally registered through his drunk in love brain, he took a step close to you.

“Excellent work, darling. I knew if I worked you up enough you’d end up a monster.” His hands cupped your small face, but the cloth in your own hand meeting his mouth made him drop on the floor.

Erwin woke up sore, head pounding and arms feeling like they were pulled on. Which they were, as he was tied up against a chair, you running your fingers through his hair lovingly.

“Never play these games on me again.” He threatened, though he wasn’t really threatening as his big, broad figure sat crouched on the chair.

“How about we play them together, daddy?”

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

[beomglocks]

sleepover ; c.sb

summary : it's time to figure out where to sleep for the night. part 3 of dilf soob chronicles. send ask for more hehehe <3

pairing : dilf neighbor!soobin x (legal)!reader

warnings & other : smut, oral-fem receiving, threesome(?), some fingering, requested, DON'T read if you're uncomfortable with age gaps, daddy kink, (i just got out of having this kink but it was requested so why not), dirty talk, some beomgyu (no incest), slight possessiveness, this ones for the dilf soob shooters, a bit of somnophilia, soobin possible brat tamer moment, idk lol , semi proof read

w/c : ~3000 (long for no reason)

“alright funs over kids,” soobin yawns as if he wasn’t just trying to finger you a half hour ago. beomgyu rolls his eyes as he stretches and you just look at the man beside you in bewilderment.

“kids?” you ask. you raise your eyebrow at him. it’s only about 1am which wasn’t too late for you. that and the fact that you feel like you were left bothered when soobin didn’t finish what he started earlier. you figure beomgyu wouldn’t be tired at this time either but soobin on the other hand-

you had to hold back a remark about him suddenly being so fatherly when it seemed like he was ok with fucking you right in front of his son earlier.

“yes kids,” he smirks. you hate that he’s teasing you right now. that was the thing about mr. choi that drew you in every time. one thing you had learned from being around mr. choi was that this man was a tease. perhaps it was because you were used to being around people your age who were much more straightforward with their advances but either way it made you want to do more and more.

you push those thoughts to the back of your brain for when the moment arises and hold back the urge to roll your eyes in front of his face. is this what beomgyu is used to?

“daddy’s taking his kids to bed, isn’t this fun,” he offhandedly says as he jokes with his son while you sit and wait for further instructions on where to sleep. maybe he thought you wouldn’t hear him but what- did he just refer to himself as daddy? you didn’t know that hearing him say that would have such an effect on you.

if you didn’t know whether or not you had a daddy kink well this moment just confirmed it. what would it take to make him refer to himself like that again?

“daddy?” you blurt without thinking. shit- beomgyu wouldn’t think that’s weird right? you were just reiterating what was said. you could play it off as being confused as to why his “playful father” was talking to his clearly grown son in such a way.

soobin pauses and takes a while to turn to you. perhaps hearing you say that affected him too. daddy? saying it himself wasn’t such a big deal because he didn’t think much of it but coming from your lips made him want to hear it more. he could get used to that sound.

“yeah...” soobin thinks out loud to himself for a moment. he could make use of this. you think your heart or something else pounds at the way soobin is looking at you right now. he looks like he has plans to eat you out right then and there but you can tell he’s holding himself back.

“yeah, daddy’s gonna take his kids to bed,” his reiterates with emphasis on the word daddy and bed. “is that ok with you y/n?”

you nod silently, suddenly giddy at the thought of finally being alone with mr. choi uninterrupted for sure this time.

“where will y/n sleep?” beomgyu asks. “i think i have the inflatable bed still in my-“

soobin cuts his son off with a click of his tongue. “i can’t have two adolescents of opposite genders sleeping in the same room together, that’s controversial.”

you subtly raise your eyebrow at him. essentially your entire relationship, if you could even call it that, was controversial. however, you were interested to see how he would play this off. it’s clear soobin wants you to himself tonight.

beomgyu almost looks like he wants to speak up to shut down the mere idea of you both fooling around alone but mr. choi continues.

“i can’t just leave y/n alone on the couch in the living room, that’s not safe. since there really are no other spare rooms i guess she’ll have to sleep in my room?”

this was true. soobin thought ahead to a plethora of different excuses as to get you in his room without coming off as suspicious. he remembered that thankfully all of the junk they had during the move was shoved into various spare rooms around the house with no space or option of clearing out a room for guests.

“i will sleep on the couch,” soobin annouces valiantly. beomgyu takes a moment to process this and takes you a bit of time too.

you thought soobin would make some lame excuse about having you sleep on the floor in his room or something to have to you near him so you’re left dumbfounded and somewhat frustrated at his thought process. he’s gonna leave me alone in his room? wasn’t the point for us to fuck?

“that sounds fair,” beomgyu concludes. he doesn’t think much of it because why would he. his father is sleeping on the couch and his neighbor is sleeping soundly in a different room. no need to get suspicious.

“well, have a good night,” beomgyu gives both of you a tight lipped smile, mainly aiming it at you and you return it kindly. i sure will.

beomgyu strides off to his room, leaving you and his father in the living room. “my beds quite comfortable but let me know if you need anything else,” he says, setting up the couch as his makeshift bed.

you look down at it. yeah, he’s definitely taller than the couch so it will be a bitch for him to sleep on that throughout the night. “i need you,” you shyly mumble. you hear him laugh a bit and look up.

he’s still wearing his work clothes except the white collared shirt has some buttons popped off and his pants have become wrinkled and baggy from wear.

you move closer to him and start to unbutton his shirt for him so that he gets comfortable. he looks between both your eyes and smiles. you almost tiptoe to reach his mouth but steps away for a minute.

“ill meet you there,” he says as he starts to set up the couch for himself. you hold back a frustrated sigh and soobin raises his brow at you. typical teen behavior.

“i’ll be asleep before you even get to the door,” you mumble impatiently. “i’ll surprise you then,” he says. “don’t be a brat.”

you roll your eyes, walking away from him to head to where you’ll be sleeping which is his room. he watches you walk away with a shake of his head. what will he do with you?

in the meantime, he sets up the living space to make it look like he was sleeping for a while in case beomgyu walks downstairs or something. he would make it look like he was sleeping and woke up to get something from his room, simple.

he didn’t even know why he felt the need to sneak around his son. he was an adult and could do what he wanted essentially. he sucks his teeth trying to not think too hard about it at the moment.

once he’s done, soobin knocks on his bedroom door lightly. while waiting for you to answer he looks around the hall. he can faintly see beomgyu's light still turned on and wonders for a moment what he could still be doing awake.

he doesn’t have time to ponder on it because all he wants is you right now. he narrows his eyes back at his door when a couple of minutes pass with no sign from you.

why is he even knocking, it’s his room after all? did he need an excuse to be here? that was the point of having you take his room instead so that he wouldn’t need an excuse to be near you because it was his room.

he opens the door slowly and peeks his head in. he’s surprised to see you sprawled out on his bed, not waiting for him but instead fast asleep. he thought you were bluffing about being asleep before he got there.

he fully steps in, eyebrows raised at the scene.

soobin closes the door lightly, contemplating whether or not to lock it, he opts for leaving it unlocked. the lights are off except for a nightlight by the bed that he uses when he can’t sleep and decides to pop open a book to read.

the glow of the light hits your skin in a way that makes you glow despite the darkness of the rest of the room. he can’t take it, if he does nothing now he won’t be in a good mood for the rest of the time that you’re here. now is your guys' only chance.

he places a knee at the foot of the bed, cringing at the squeak of the springs, fearing they might wake you up prematurely. he pauses and waits to see if you’ve awoken but sighs when you simply turn your head over.

“y/n~” he sing songs lightly. his fingers dance around your body as gently as possible. his eyes widen when he realizes you’ve put on a spare worn work shirt of his over your braless chest. “y/n~” he calls again. “why are you wearing this huh?” he plays with the mismatched buttons, popping them off one at a time leaving you topless and exposed.

you shiver when the cold air of the room hits your chest but try to shuffle yourself deeper into the warm sheets. “are you gonna wake up baby?” he shakes you but you only groan in response.

“you should wake up...you’re getting a little too wet to stay asleep for long, what will daddy do?” he hums while rubbing your panties. he visibly looks bored, as if he’s waiting for you to wake up so he takes it upon himself to speed up your waking up process.

he slides of your underwear with ease and tosses them aside. lazily he runs his two fingers up and down your folds a couple times before pushing them in you slowly to get adjusted to a slow pace.

he sighs at the warmth and the quiet wet sounds coming from you. “please wake up,” he half pleads. at that moment, you unconsciously clench around him and he bites his lip looking up at your face. your eyebrows are furrowed but you’re still asleep from what he can see.

do you think you’re having a wet dream? soobin rolls his eyes. if you would wake up you would see that it’s, in fact, real. “baby you should wake up before i start to...” he removes his fingers before he leans down and places his lips where his fingers were. tongue stroking your clit and simultaneously going in and out of your pussy skillfully, he starts to get a little too into it when you moan quietly from your "dream”. he allows himself to moan into your pussy, gripping your thigh harshly.

“at this rate..” he stops for a moment to catch his breath and breathes heavily on your sensitive skin. “you won’t need my cock,” he chuckles to himself, licking his lips of your cum.

he suddenly feels his pink hair being grabbed and when he looks up from below you, he sees your eyes are slightly parted. “no~” you whine softly, referring to his recent comment.

he says nothing witty to this, only happy to have you conscious again. maybe you planned this or maybe you really were tired, he doesn’t care anymore. “no?” he asks as he gets himself ready, positioning & aligning his cock with your entrance.

“did you know that somewhere during the end of the movie your skirt had risen up? did you do that on purpose to catch my son's attention or was that a sign? where you so needy that you wanted to give me a sign to fuck you right there? maybe you didn’t want my cock maybe you wanted beomgyu hm?” he pushes himself into you and you grab his arm for support. ok. he’s bigger than you thought.

your still half asleep mind can barely comprehend what he's saying either. is he jealous? you didn't realize your skirt came up but now you're curious to know if beomgyu was watching you instead of the screen.

soobin had gotten you ready while you were asleep and you thought you knew what to expect when you saw his cock but you weren’t expecting it to take time for you to adjust his size. you think you hear soobin mutter the word "tight" but you’re too busy trying not to die.

he goes slow at first, mumbling words under his breath in frustration. "you would open your legs for anyone that even resembles me in the slightest, that’s just what a slut you are." he rocks his hips forward expectantly and it leaves you stunned for a moment. "you would take my cock from behind while choking on beomgyu's how does that sound? maybe we could make it happen? but then again that wouldn’t satisfy someone like you, huh," he taunts when you whine. you want him to shut up so badly but at the same time, it only made your pussy throb against him at the thought. now that he placed the image of a threesome in your mind, you couldn’t shake it. it was wrong, so wrong on so many levels so why did it turn you on? you weren’t even attracted to beomgyu in that way! maybe you really were a whore just wanting to be filled up even if it meant with soobin plus his own spawn.

"shh, do you hear that?" he covers your mouth his cum drenched fingers, cutting off whatever sound you might produce from slowing down. at first, you don’t hear anything other than soobin's heavy breaths in your ear. after a moment, the faint sound of grunting hits your ears. it takes you a while to figure out what that sound is and where it could be coming from but when you recognize the low sounds your eyes widen as they stare back into soobin’s smug expression.

“they grow up so fast~," he sing songs. "see what happens when you tease? he probably caught a glimpse of your panties when your skirt rode up and he’s going just off that, poor kid." he frowns, he rocks his hips teasingly. you squeeze your eyes shut, there's too much tension right now. "i wonder how he would feel if he found out his dad was fucking his neighbor?" he bucks his hips up into you and thankfully his hand is still covering your mouth or you would’ve moaned loud enough for beomgyu to hear.

“daddy please," you beg, albeit a bit muffled. "please what slut?" "please fuck me please" you whine pathetically. you try to move your hips to gain some kind of friction but he stops you. "aren’t you afraid beomgyu might hear? it would be bad if he found out what we were doing right now."

you can feel your throbbing pussy going numb with soobin’s cock just sitting there inside you so you have to be quick witted and play with his ego. even though he was a grown man and father he was still just a man. "daddy please,” you moan. if you fuck me beomgyu won't disturb us after he hears how good you make me feel? and if he does he’ll just have to watch and see how it’s do-”

short gasps of air leave your throat as it’s all you manage as he sporadically slams himself deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. "stop thinking about beomgyu", you think he says. you’re not sure and you don’t care because at this point you’re too dazed to form a single thought. you for sure aren’t thinking about beomgyu, not with dick like this in you.

you think you hear beomgyu's pained gasp and chants of your name get louder but it could just be soobin. no, those breaths sound further away and deeper. you want to cry thinking about how beomgyu's deep voice would mix with soobin's lighter one. you can only imagine soobin’s grunts in your right ear as beomgyu whines in your left. it almost overstimulates you.

maybe beomgyu thinks both of you are asleep or perhaps you all are being so loud that no one can hear each other but you’re almost certain beomgyu is being painfully loud and obvious right now, as are you both.

soobin doesn't even try to hold back anymore as he leans up from his hovering position over you to hang his head back and full on moan when you clench around him for the last time. he pulls out and comes all over your stomach and chest, staining a bit of his shirt that you were wearing. you shudder at the feeling of being empty so suddenly.

"go back to sleep," he says, brushing his hand over your sweaty face. "don't worry, i'll clean you up and stay for a little while after."

the next morning is awkward, to say the least. seemingly all three of you wake up around the same time, soobin being the first one up to make breakfast for all of you. as you and beomgyu walk down the stairs together, beomgyu doesn’t bring up how he saw his father earlier walk out of his room after explicitly stating he would sleep on the couch or how he masturbated to you loud enough that he's sure you heard.

you’re only slightly at ease the beomgyu doesn’t mention anything about the sound levels of last night or the limp in your step.

you don’t remember much but you think it got to a point where you and soobin didn’t care much about how loud you were being and you were sure beomgyu heard.

you wanted to face palm at how this all turned out.

[huxloween]

Monsters aren't born, they just exist (day 4 overdue prompt)

🌕

The darkness under Ben’s bed always had something more to it.

As a little kid, Ben was afraid something lived there—some entity woven from the shadows, whispering along with the branches when they brushed over the window of Ben’s room, so the creature itself was never actually audible.

But Ben suspected it lurked there, every night, waiting for God knew what. Maybe the fact Ben knew the creature existed was enough of a treat for it.

The years had passed, but Ben’s childish fright remained.

After countless sleepless nights, and numberless rebukes how riduculous he was, Ben decided to swallow his dignity and examine the matter further.

Crawling at the edge of his bed, with heart in his mouth, Ben hanged his head down and peeked in the narrow slit between the floor and bed’s frame.

‘H-hello?’

Despite that the night concealed his idiocracy from the world, Ben still felt as a blithering idiot. They considered him crazy because he used to hear the voices in his head, but now he was talking to a dark pit under his own bed. Fucking great. Wait until his psychiatrist would get to know this.

'Is something there?’ Ben swallowed. 'If yes, please fucking answer or better just go away!—’

'The darkness is tight in here.’

Ben jumped so high he almost hit the ceiling with his head.

'What the hell!’ he squeaked, as loud as his fear that he’d wake his parents in an adjacent room let him.

'Why are you screaming?’

Ben could swear he hadn’t overdosed his psychiatric drugs. And yet.

The words were quiet, almost inaudible, but Ben couldn’t mistake them for a hum of the wind or a screech of the branches. They were too intentional, too clear despite their hush— too human. Their sound almost imperceptible if you weren’t listening, like a small droplet disturbing the water’s surface and creating the tiny creases.

If Ben hadn’t nearly jumped out of skin yet a while before, he’d think it was soothing. But for now, his heart kept hammering in his chest, and his mouth was dried.

'W-who’s there?’ There was a pause. The creature didn’t answer. 'A-are you— a monster?’

'I’m sorry, but I don’t know what a monster is.’

Ben forced a thick swallow around a lump that had created in his throat. 'Something what hides under people’s beds and eats them when they’re asleep!’

'Oh. Then I guess I’m not one.’

'That’s exactly what a monster would say!’

With these words, Ben scurried away from his room. This night, he slipped to his parents’ bedroom. It seemed less humiliating than having an imagined small talk with no-existing thing that had apparently nestled under his bed.

🌖

Leia was getting ready to sleep, unbraiding her greyish strands from another overly complicated hairstyle. Han was already snoring. Ben had no idea how these two fit together when his father was sprawled across three quarters of available space.

What’s more, he couldn’t conceive how he wanted to crawl in there with them both. But he couldn’t go back to his own room, could he? The monster might be waiting there for him, ready to grip his foot when he would be getting onto the bed.

'Mom? Uhm— can I sleep with you tonight, too?’

God, Ben felt like a 5-year-old again.

Despite knowing her son’s weird habits, Leia dared to look baffled.

'Yes, of course, honey. If you feel you need it.’

There was this hidden suggestion, unspoken accusation, always lurking beneath a layer of strained politeness.

'I do,’ Ben responded in his most blunt voice, a tone of an obstinate teenager demanding what he wanted with little to no consideration to others’ needs. Just as Leia imagined him.

And she had to concede, of course, unless she wished to ruin her image of a merciful mother.

'Alright then, sweetheart. Then you’re sleeping with us.’

Ben paid for it too soon.

'Are you having those atrocious nightmares again?’ Leia asked absently. She was certainly dreading those were the father-stabbing-related ones. She didn’t mention it though, in the meanwhile moving Han’s limbs back on his half of the bed with the skill and resignation of a woman who used to do it more frequently than she considered acceptable. 'Are the voices so loud they don’t let you sleep?’

Ben loathed her tricky questions, and that he was never witty enough to tell her what she needed to hear to leave him alone. 'Uhm, a little. But— it’s nothing serious, I promise.’

'One more friendly talk with a good doctor hasn’t yet harmed anyone,’ Leia encouraged adamantly.

A friendly talk was the last thing which would come to Ben’s mind if he wanted to describe the meetings with his psychiatrist Amilyn Holdo. A police interrogation would be the first one, though. The only thing Ben treasured about those visits was a consolation received from gaping at Holdo’s strikingly purple shock of hair. Ben could at least comfort himself there were people even crazier than him. But there was little comfort in a persistent conclusion that those people actually managed life much better than him.

He couldn’t sleep with his parents forever. It had been suspicious enough he’d done it in the first place, and look—he’d earned himself one extra fucking visit to his psychiatrist already. What would come next? For Ben’s sake, of course. And to prevent Han from being stabbed when Ben would be sleepwalking and following the voices’ vile prompts.

It was tempting to put Leia right, however, Ben was strongly convinced that revealing her that under his bed lived some conversation-liking monster would automatically book him a ticket to the nearest mental asylum, without even consulting stupid Holdo.

When he laid cocooned between his parents, distant Leia and snoring Han, Ben wondered how his monster was doing.

The monster under his bed, Ben corrected himself. Monsters don’t belong to anyone, and certainly no one wishes to own them.

In the daylight, Ben had searched the space beneath the bed thoroughly. All he’d found had been a stray sock and a tone of dust. No trace of the monster. Of course, it didn’t prove anything.

Unable to fall asleep in the narrow space between his parents, Ben kept drifting in a haze of weird thoughts.

The last time, the monster had said it was tight under the bed. Ben himself probably wouldn’t be able to fit in, so he shouldn’t have felt startled. Besides the fact of talking to a so far bodiless entity, of course.

(Actually, it had told that the darkness was tight in there, but it sounded to bizarrly for Ben to further investigate. He had enough of bizarreness, and the last thing he needed was adding himself more of it.)

Was it possible that— oh God, was the monster sleeping in Ben’s bed now, shamelessly taking advantage of his absence? Ben left his room wholly unguarded. He cursed himself, and then his toe brushed over a heavy, hot flesh that had sneaked under the quilt to sleep in the feet of his parents’ bed. Yeah, he should have at least left Chewie on guard. But no, he grounded himself. This goddamned giant Dutch Sheepdog would scurry away at the first unnerving noise reaching its shaggy ears.

Truth be told, Ben had no idea why the monster was so polite that it hadn’t attacked him at one of those nights when he was still sleeping in his room, either to feed on him or simply steal his bed.

Was it hungry at all?

Was it cold, perhaps? Could the monsters feel cold? Or was it another plainly humanly inconvenience?

Did it thirst to scare Ben, to feed upon his dread?

(Or was it just as scared as Ben?)

(Was it— lonely?)

The silly questions tingled the tip of Ben’s tongue, running too fast to dwell on them. There wasn’t anyone to pose them, anyway.

In the dim pit of his heart, Ben regretted he wasn’t alone with the dark this night.

🌗

'Are you there yet?’

Ben waited for an answer, clutching desperantly to the hope it wouldn’t come.

Nothing positive, however, has ever come from Ben’s high hopes.

'Yes.’

If he wished to, Ben could’ve pretended it was just a wind’s whisper breaking in through an ajar window. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

'Are you planning on— staying there?’

'Yes. If you please. I presume this space belongs to you?’

Oh fuck. The monster asking him for permission to occupy the floor underneath his bed was—dare Ben say—unexpected. He nearly choked on his own saliva.

'K-kind of. It’s under my bed, so, yeah, I guess it’s mine too—’

'Oh. I didn’t know it was under someone’s bed.’

'What?’ Ben shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He stayed safely in the center of it, far from the edges. He tucked the duvet under his chin, so he could cover under it wholly if the monster decided to show up. Ben doubted it would protect him from being killed, however, if the monster felt like it despite what it had previously stated. 'I don’t get it. How can you not know that?’

'I live in the dark, and can’t really see what’s around.’

Should Ben really feel startled anymore?

'What if I won’t agree on you staying here? Will you slaughter me?’

'Excuse me?’

'Eat me alive. Choke me when I sleep. Stab me in the chest like I envisioned doing with my father?’

Maybe the monster was actually one of Ben’s nightmares, taking a revenge on him for his atrocious subconsciousness’ desires.

Maybe Ben deserved to be slaughtered before he could take someone else’s life away.

But the answer came, 'No.’ And then, 'Does my presence bother you?’

The monster seemed to be awfully cultural so far—actually, it had better manners than most people Ben knew. It didn’t speak unasked, and always replied when Ben demanded something.

Truthfully, it was Ben’s fault it was disturbed in the first place. Hadn’t he opened his big mouth, and the monster would have rested in peace, concealed from the world and Ben’s awareness beneath a thick blanket of shadows.

'No,’ Ben heard himself saying. He didn’t intend the truth to be told. It leaked from him like the clean water spills from a broken glass, until nothing’s left. 'It has been bothering me sometime before, but now— now it doesn’t.’

'So— can I stay here?’

It was one of those (not so rare) moments when Ben was aware that he was going to do something blitheringly idiotic, and yet he still did it with full consiousness and will.

'Yes. Be my guest.’

🌘

'If we happen to sleep in the same room, it might be good to get to know each other better,’ Ben proposed, laying tucked under the duvet another night. He was still keeping himself in the middle of the bed, but the tension which made him ready to jump at the slightest shift of the monster was mostly gone by now. 'And I can’t fall asleep.’

'I don’t sleep at all. I don’t even know how it feels.’

'How do you rest then?’

'What should I rest from?’

Ben shrugged, though the monster couldn’t see this. 'Hiding? I bet it can be exhausting.’

'I don’t hide.’

'You sit in the shadow. That’s hiding to me.’

'Not to me.’

'You’re weird.’

As if Ben wasn’t.

'Tell me something about yourself.’

'Huh?’

'I hate my parents, for example.’

'Why?’

'And what are the reasons why the teenagers hate their parents? They do what they want, and prentend they have all the answers. Just the same what they accuse their offspring of. Irony.’

'I didn’t know this.’

'What are your parents like, then?’

'I don’t have parents.’

'Everyone has parents. Even monsters, I guess. How were you born?’

'I wasn’t. I just— was.’

'Since when? How?’

'Nobody ever told me.’

'Will you die?’

'Die?’

'Stop living. Expire. Let your sould descend to the hell.’

'I’ve never lived in the first place. I only exist.’

'Is that supposed to be some kind of a philosophic bullshit? It sounds like my stupid uncle’s words. Okay, don’t say it, I know you have no bloody idea what a philosophy is. But believe me, neither do I. And your uncle isn’t called the second Immanuel Kant. So, tell me, why do you exist for, then? If not for eating, choking nor stabbing others?’

'There isn’t any reason behind my existence, at least not the one I know.’

Ben didn’t have an answer for this. Frankly, he supposed there wasn’t any reason behind his own existence either. Though his parents had never admitted it aloud, Ben believed he’d been a slip-up. And even if there was a cause, an expectancy that his parents had had in mind when they’d decided to have him, Ben surely hasn’t met it, and would never do. Finding your kid a new school each year (sometimes a couple in one year, actually) and weekly visits to an exhorbitantly expensive psychiatrist couldn’t be any close to one’s expectations when having a baby, could they? Ben was a burden, and burdens only do bring everyone down and create worries, not fulfill the hopes.

Maybe it was better—not to have a possibility of a purpose, just—being. It shouldn’t even feel sad, due to the lack of contrast which was so garish in a juxtaposition of dreams with reality, the former usually not resembling the latter in the slightest.

'What do people live for?’

'Various things. First, money—’

'What’s money?’

'Uhm— something what people use to have the things they want.’

'Oh. Like?’

'Some fancy stuff. To live more comfortably. To brag in front of the others. Ugh, why are you asking those questions? Are you bored or what?’

'What means—’

'Yeah, yeah, of course you don’t know what bored means, eh. You don’t have anything to do and it tires you.’

'How can doing nothing be tiring?’

'That’s the irony of it.’

'Oh.’ After a break, 'What else do people live for?’

Ben sighed. 'You won’t gimme peace, will you?’

'I thought you couldn’t sleep either way.’

'Point.’ Ben sighed again, taking in a deep breath. 'Some live for having fun, some wait for something, some beacuse they are afraid to die, others seem to have their main purpose in making other’s life more miserable.’

'What sense does it have?’

'If only I knew. They just feel better, having a high ground above the others. I heard—’

'What?’

'Uh, that’s stupid.’

'Tell me. Please.’

Ben huffed, perplexed by this odd politeness again. 'I’ve heard some live for others. But that’s bullshit. I haven’t met anyone who’d live that way. Sure, some deceive that they do, sometimes they can even delude themselves, like my parents do— but no one actually does it, you know? I think it’s not even possible. This thing, they call it— love.’

'Love?’

'Yeah, I know. This even sounds silly.’

'How do you live for it?’

'I don’t think I’m the right person to answer it. I only know what you shouldn’t do. But—think about someone else’s good before your own, maybe. Care for them.’ Ben shrugged, keeping to forget that the monster couldn’t see him. Or maybe he could. Perhaps he was stretched along all the patches of shadow across Ben’s room, in the corner when the cobweb hunged, or the gloom that was gathering under the round doorknob. Maybe.

'All the reasons you’ve named seem either weird or silly for me. Both, most frequently.’ Ben stilled. It was the first time when the monster shared its opinion. 'But that last one— it seems different. It's—’

'Stupid.’

'—interesting.’

Ben didn’t remember having a single similarly long and honest talk with anyone before. It was so ridiculous, and yet somehow, pathecially and painfully natural.

Neither of them knew what more to say, so Ben drifted into a restless slumber. The monster stayed in its place.

🌑

'Is there more space, when you are?’

'More than under the bed? Sure. But— why are you asking?’

The monster pondered. 'Would you minf if I come out?’

Yes, Ben’s sanity screamed at him for the last time, but his throat was clogged.

Monster’s words were dull and gentle, bathed in the soft shadow he concealed itself in. Ben felt them almost physically, spilling over him like a murk which fell over his eyes and lulled him to sleep, encouraged to let go. Let go of the past, and allow all what he’s been afraid of for a half of his pathetic life finally die—writhe in agony and let the blackness engorge the remnants. If it was eager to release him from his chains, shadow had to be good. Didn’t it?

'No. I don’t think so. Not— not anymore.’

The monster which slipped from the shadow was pallid like the moonlight, his milk-white skin shimmering slightly when it was touched by the dim brightness that seeped in through a window. Ben’s heart skipped a beat when he approached him slowly. The only black part of him were his eyes, two wide blown pupils which devoured the irises.

He seemed human, despite Ben knew he fortunately wasn’t.

'I didn’t know I could’ve come out for all this time,’ the monster mused, his voice smooth like silk, even more when they weren’t separated by the bed’s frame.

'I’ve never wanted you to come out before.’ Ben slid his gaze all over the monster’s white flesh, gleaming like if it emitted its own light. 'What are you, if not a monster? Who?’

'Call me Hux.’

It was the most bizarre name Ben has ever heard. If he was ordered to, he wouldn’t be able to spell it correctly, he was sure.

'What is it? The name of your species? Your own?’

'That’s what I am. The only thing I know.’

Former monster pierced Ben through with his gloomy gaze, but Ben didn’t feel overwhelmed. An impression he got resembled ridding of a burden which you hadn’t been aware of carrying until it finally slid from your shoulders. The only thing remaining was soreness, a sweet remainder of a long awaited release.

'So, Hux,’ Ben repeated, the name screeching on his unskilled tongue. He would need some practice to learn how to pronounce it properly. 'Would you like to sleep in my bed instead? It’s a bit tight in here, too, but I think we could manage.’

'It’s at least warmer there, I presume.’

A small crescent of smile ghosted over Hux’s face, and Ben was glad that, for once, disobeying his faint common sense did pay off.

☀️

The next morning, when Ben woke up, the matress next to him was empty and the sheet uncreased, but the peculiar warmness lingered. It has a shape of a monster’s bizarrely human body, and whole day, Ben waited for the dusk.

He waited to meet Hux again, and taste the sweet, liberating darkness his name brought on his tongue.

[andypantsx3]

Hii can I request a deleted scene for "if I could keep cool" that tells chapter 2 from Shouto's POV? I would absolutely love to c what was going through Shouto's head when he figured out that Y/N was just a cleaning lady and what was the moment that made him want to ask her out when he saw her at his house afterwards! Thank u!!

I accidentally got carried away, so this bad boy is 1.9k!! My apologies lol. I hope you like it!!

It wasn’t every day that someone told Shouto Todoroki to go fuck himself. 

Particularly not quirkless civilians, and never those he’d rescued. 

There was usually a lot more breathless gratitude, some bowing and scraping, and—mystifyingly—a lot of phone numbers, handkerchiefs, and very unsubtle attempts to get a hand or two around his biceps. Shouto didn’t really know what his biceps had to do with it, but he’d seen the same thing happen to Midoriya and Kirishima as well—and Bakugou once, before he’d nearly gnawed the woman’s hands off—so he assumed it was just another social cue he’d never understand.

As little as he cared for social cues, however, he was certain that there was usually a lot more thank you and a little less go fuck yourself involved in the whole rescuing process.

But then, he’d also never told off a civilian for having been kidnapped before. 

A civilian who, he’d come to realize almost immediately afterward, hadn’t deserved it.

When he’d asked his mother her advice over the phone, she’d told him the best thing to do was to be honest and try to start fresh. “White flowers mean forgiveness—tulips new beginnings,” she’d advised him.

So Shouto had ducked into the nearest florist and brought back an apology in hopes that you would accept it. 

He might have known, however, that you’d manage to turn even a simple apology completely on its head.

The clatter of cleaning supplies in his kitchen on Thursday afternoon told Shouto you’d let yourself in for your usual shift. He followed the sound, only for it to halt at his approach, the kitchen seemingly empty as he drew nearer.

He stopped short, fighting down a surprised swell of amusement when he realized you’d ducked down, hiding yourself behind his counters as if anyone, especially a pro hero, might be fooled by that.

“I know you’re there,” he said, keeping his tone even.

He heard a muttered swear word, and then you were rising slowly to your feet, wearing a sheepish expression, and clutching a bottle of windex like a weapon.

You looked just as you had the day of your rescue, though obviously a little less harrowed by a kidnapping. You were dressed casually in jeans and a simple shirt, no indicator that you were an employee of a cleaning service—Shouto felt at least a little justified in his mistake from last week.

You were clearly a college student, the backpack dumped at his kitchen island was evidence of that much, overflowing with textbooks and notes as it was, and you looked just slightly disheveled, like you might have come straight from class.

It was part of some nebulous, unassuming appeal to you, now that he had occasion to notice. He’d remembered your features twisted up in disdain, but they were open in surprise now, your eyes wide, fixed on him. His own eyes were drawn to the scrunch of your nose, a little curl of embarrassment that he suddenly found himself unable to tear his gaze away from.

“I, uh, thought you weren’t supposed to be here,” you admitted to him with a visible cringe.

Shouto almost laughed. He didn’t know much about you, but it was clear to him now that you weren’t anything like a crazy fan. You looked like you’d rather be anywhere but here at the moment. In fact, you looked rather like you might bolt any second.

A strange feeling shifted in his chest, and Shouto cut right to the chase.

“I owe you an apology,” he said simply.

You startled so violently that you dropped the windex. “W-what?”

Shouto sighed, admitting, “My manager schedules the cleaning days. I didn’t realize that you were—that is to say, I thought you were a fan who had broken in and managed to get kidnapped while you were at it.”

You gaped, another confused little expression that Shouto found himself fixating on with an intensity that surprised him. The weird feeling in his chest shifted, burning a little hotter. 

He wondered absently what other expressions he could get you to make.

“Oh, I, um...nope. Not a fan,” you said, and the feeling grew more insistent. 

He paused over the phrasing—not a fan. 

It had never bothered him before, when someone was a bigger fan of a classmate than they were of him, or weren’t really a hero fan at all. Shouto honestly did not quite understand why hero work was so tied up in fandom in the first place, and only attended fan events because his manager’s temper was not a thing to be trifled with. 

He wanted to be a hero who put people at ease, but ease was the last thing he felt with people clamoring all over him. Fighting villains was infinitely more preferable.

So why did your admission that you weren’t a fan of his niggle at his brain, like a particularly insistent parasite?

Who were you a fan of, if not him? 

“...Well, glad that’s cleared up now. I’ll just, uh, go then,” you said, grabbing an armful of the cleaning supplies and shoving it back under the sink hastily.

Shouto had moved before he knew what he was doing, getting himself in between you and the door out to the hallway. 

“Wait,” he said, feeling uncomfortable. “I want to make up for what I said to you. You...didn’t deserve that, especially not right after you’d been kidnapped by a villain.”

He watched you eye the space between his hip and the counter, like you were considering making a break for it. As he watched your face, he felt some strange hope that you might try it, a certainty he would catch you. 

...Why did he want to catch you?

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. You saved me, we can call it even.”

Shouto’s mouth turned down minutely. He’d behaved badly, but surely you’d credit him better manners than that. “It’s my fault you were taken in the first place. I’d like to apologize properly.”

Your face did something weird, then, another distracting little curl of the nose. “You don’t actually have to go fuck yourself,” you blurted.

Shouto stared at you, caught off guard.

“Uh, I mean. You saved my life,” you babbled suddenly. “And yeah what you said to me was super rude, but what I said to you was also super rude. So, um, I’m sorry too. And I really would just like to call it even and forget about it because it’s super embarrassing for both of us and I could literally die thinking about it.”

You stopped suddenly, looking self-conscious like you’d realized you’d been rambling. Shouto almost wished you hadn’t.

“I hadn’t really planned on it,” he said quickly.

“Hadn’t planned on what?”

“Fucking myself,” he clarified. You choked on a shocked laugh, and he let a small smile tug at his mouth—there.

Finally.

Finally you looked a little more comfortable with him. 

Shouto tried hard not to look too pleased with himself.

“Oh, well that’s good, then," you said. Then you puffed up a little, adding, "That’s probably a job for your actual secret lover.”

Good lord. “Not you, too.”

You threw him a smile, and Shouto’s heartbeat tripped over itself. “But I have evidence. I saw that homemade soup in your fridge once with the love note attached.”

It took him a moment to focus on what you were saying, but Shouto recalled the soup in question. It had been quite good, even if Bakugou had spent almost a half an hour ranting about what a weak ass little bitch he was for catching a cold. It had almost been worth it, the soup was that delicious. “Ah yes. That secret lover.”

“Cute pet name, too,” you said.

Shouto let out a low laugh, recalling the note. “You fucking fuck, was it?”

You laughed too, tension easing from your shoulders. Shouto’s eyes hungrily traced even that small movement.

A dawning sense of what was happening finally settled over him as he pronounced, “As it happens, however, I did already plan more of an apology.”

You looked up at him, your brow furrowing. “You planned...more of an apology?”

He gestured to a tall vase of white tulips on the kitchen counter. Your eyes went a little rounder as you observed them. You looked like you weren’t sure if they were for you, as if there were another previously kidnapped cleaning girl lurking about, who might be in need of an apology.

What a fascinating thing you were.

“I’ve been told that they mean forgiveness and new beginnings. I had hoped that we might...start over,” Shouto explained. He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.

“I didn’t bring you any flowers,” you blurted.

He covered up a surprised laugh with a cough, the feeling in his stomach burning hotter. “I hadn’t expected them.”

He watched you turn back thoughtfully to the bouquet, certain now.

Over the phone, his mother had also said white flowers carried connotations of honor and purity. Two notions, Shouto realized with a growing sense of curiosity, that may be entirely inapplicable to his feelings about you.

He didn’t know much about you, but he knew for certain that he’d like to know more. And as he watched you reach out to pluck at a petal, wearing a shy little smile, he thought that yes, honor and purity had very little to do with his intentions at the moment.

You thanked him for the flowers, and Shouto made it clear to you that he hadn’t meant what he’d said about you being unwelcome here. He wanted—no, desired your return now. 

“That’s good to hear, thank you,” you said. Then your smile went a little mischievous. “As you can see, though, it didn’t really deter me.”

Shouto let himself smirk. “If I hadn’t seen the cleaning supplies already on the counter, I would be concerned that you’d come back for revenge.”

“There’s still time,” you joked. “Maybe I was going to play the long game and fill all the bottles with Sprite.”

The mulish statement surprised him into another laugh. “I hope the flowers are enough of a deterrent.”

You looked over the flowers again, then smiled up at him. His eyes caught on your mouth.

“The bribe has been accepted. Your countertops are safe from me.” You paused, then added, “For now.”

The hot feeling was everywhere now, simmering just underneath Shouto’s skin. He left himself lean towards you, relishing in the way your breath caught in a tiny hitch. “Be warned that I will do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of my countertops.”

You complained that he hardly used them, but complied nevertheless. Then you bullied him out of the kitchen, that tiny little scrunch back on your nose.

Shouto let you have your way, making his way over to the couch and settling on it with a book he had absolutely no intention of reading. Instead, as he watched you clean, he considered things.

He had always been straightforward about his goals. Once he���d chosen heroism as his dream, he’d let nothing stand in his way, working diligently all through UA, shooting nonstop through the ranks before breaking into the top five this year, one of the youngest to have ever done it. 

He was deliberate about what he wanted. He worked hard for what he wanted.

And as he wandered back towards the kitchen, questions ready in his mouth, he knew what else he wanted.

He wanted to know more about you.

He wanted to spend more time with you.

He wanted…

Well, he rather thought he wanted you.

I was going to edit this but every time I went to touch it, I made it worse. I hope you liked it anyway!

Garbage Fest masterlist & schedule.