#unspoken plan guarantee

[dedicatedfollower467]

also just like. on the subject of characters talking through things way too easily in fiction...

have none of y'all heard of how if you see them planning, it's going to go haywire??? tvtropes has an entire page dedicated to the "unspoken plan guarantee"

it's like a STAPLE of fiction writing IN GENERAL that if you see a group of people planning something and you are explicitly informed what the plan is, it's going to go wrong.

because otherwise there's no narrative tension and it's FUCKING BORING.

and YES THIS APPLIES TO SEX SCENES BRO.

[lastlycoris]

“Hey. How are you holding up?” Petra - Dr. Allison, her anesthesiologist 2 years out of residency but would also ignore her if she addressed her like an attending - asked as she sidled up right next to her on the bench she sat on. In the other girl’s hands was a can of Coke, which she then passed over to her.  

She calmly accepted the can with shaking hands before resting it against her head. Only then did she noticed it was warm. 

“Sorry, Lab wouldn’t let me sneak it in the blood bank fridges,” the dark-haired girl grinned, seeing the clear disappointment on her face, “Cold drinks are a bit of a luxury anyway. How are you holding up?”

She stared at the can of soda, passing it from one to another.

“No one’s ever done a surgery like that before, ” Euridice sighed as she cracked open the can of warm soda, “ and me not having completed even my first year in surgery thought I could do it.”

She pressed her hand over her face and then tilted her head towards the starry sky above.

“Believed all the hype my mentors heaped on me - the next best thing since the scalpel,” she chuckled painfully, “And now I feel like I just killed my patient with my hubris.”

Petra didn’t reply. She simply stared at her with calm brown eyes as if inviting her to continue. 

“I don’t know what I could’ve done differently,” she continued, “But is that because there was nothing else that could’ve been done or is it because I just don’t have the experience to think of it?” 

“Maybe start out by thinking about what you did do?” Petra said with a small smile, “Talking out loud usually helps me think.”

Euridice drank another mouthful of warm soda as she recalled the surgery an hour prior.

“...We managed to get an IO line in with minimal bleeding from the drill. The man’s tough tissues which made things difficult at first helped with the tamponade afterwards,” Euri said, “and then we started transfusion as intended. While that was running, I attempted to cut through the exposed portions of abdomen with the scalpel to no avail, hence why I went for the bone saw.”

“It worked, and I was able to open up the surgical field. And I didn’t nick anything important,” she said with a frown, “Maybe I was too cautious at the time. I felt like I could’ve done it faster...but at the same time, the skin and fascia could’ve just given way like a piece of plastic, and I could’ve end up cutting the bowel and vessels underneath.”

“So you probably couldn’t have opened up the surgical field faster then. What else?”

“I had to get to the suspected bleed,” she continued on, feeling more calm than distressed as she continued, “there was definitely injured small bowel throughout the abdomen, but it was the bleed that was going to kill him first.”

“Given the trajectory of whatever pierced him, I suspected he nicked something retroperitoneally, likely his aorta. Blood was leaking from the abdomen as I dissected the mesentery and eventually the IVC away using a scalpel. A lycan’s innards seem to be far less resistant to trauma than his skin and muscle.”

“I saw the blood spurting out of the aorta. I tried to start preparations for the repair...” she gritted her teeth.

“But that’s when he started crashing.”

“I don’t get why he had to start crashing then,” Euridice closed her eyes before standing straight up, anger boiling in her chest as she screamed at the sky. “You idiot! You’ve endured for so long! You were so close! Just ten minutes more! Ten minutes...” 

She could feel something hot on her face, which she wiped with her sleeve. And then a soft touch on her shoulder.

Petra sighed, having stood up with her and a hand on her shoulder, “You know that’s a lie. Just setting up the bypass as well as clamping of the aorta would’ve needed more time than that.”

“I could’ve accessed endovascularly through the iliac artery from the star-.”

“Blindly? When you didn’t even know where the aortic injury was or that there was one?” Petra sarcastically countered, “Didn’t realize you were a psychic, Euri, or had such a reckless streak in you.” Petra flicked her in the cheek.

“Hey. Watch it,” she frowned as she rubbed the spot. Petra stepped back, expression serious.

“Look. I’ve seen surgeons - attending-level surgeons - make stupid mistakes in cases far simpler than the one you just performed - outpatient cases where they had infinite time to mull over what they would do. And still blow it,” Petra said with the confidence of experience. “There was nothing more you could’ve done. And we just went over the reasons why.” 

“Not to mention,” Petra continued, “At least you gave this person a fighting chance. I guarantee if it was anyone else on call tonight, they would’ve just let him die, even before seeing those intraosseous needles fail to go through.”

“So stop moping,” Petra finished, voice all business now, “We still have a job to do, and I can’t have the surgeon on call off her A-game.”

She’s right. There’s still work to do. 

“There we go. That’s a better look on you, Dr. Ariston,” Petra nodded with a smile as she stood up, “Well, you know where to find me if there’s a case to do. See ya around, Euri.”

“Umm yeah. Bye. And thanks.”

The other woman hummed in reply as she walked towards the rest tents.

She looked at the warm can of soda in her hands and chugged the rest down. 

“Right... Still got a job to do, Euri.” 

[spidey-webs]

The real tragedy of the whole “Batman contingency plans” thing escaping containment into the wider cultural zeitgeist is that it’s become completely divorced from the original context of, you know, the Tower of Babel story-line happening after a beloved member of the Justice League did in fact go mad, become all-powerful, and destroy all of reality.

Which is devastating because it loses so much when you take Hal Jordan out of it! In both adaptations and fan discussions!

Despite only being mentioned by name once in the story, Hal haunts the whole narrative in how unspoken he is. The whole theme of the story is the failure to communicate and how it destroys trust, and an essential part of that is how the whole League won't (and can't) talk about Hal.

When Kyle finally tries to bring him up, Wally shoots him down. He is the forbidden topic at the heart of the League's breakdown of trust!

When the contingency plans plot is removed from the context of Hal's fall from grace, isn't proceeded by a JLA founding member doing what was supposed to be unthinkable, Bruce's actions lose their emotional core. It becomes just "Batman is the coolest and smartest and also a huge untrusting asshole" instead of "Bruce was already on the knife-edge of crippling paranoia regarding his powerful allies, and then one of those same allies started slaughtering people and he couldn't do a thing to stop it, confirming all his worst fears and sending him right over the edge"

You take Bruce's feelings of very personal betrayal out of the equation. He's not operating on just hypotheticals, but fears that were heartrendingly justified!

Bruce claims the reason for his plans on some past mind-control incident, but Clark calls Bruce out on it being an excuse.

Maybe that's how it started, but there's a reason the fail-safes aren't against mind-control and possession. The fail-safes are ways to permanently stop your friends should they willingly or unwillingly become a threat.

And they both know it. They've argued about Hal several times before.

Bruce has a lot of unresolved feelings about Hal. He's still hurting.

The contingency plans are not some cold, clinical necessity. They are the product of pain.

I think all readings and tellings of the Tower of Babel should be followed by the JLA/Spectre story.

It provides the necessary emotional conclusion to the unspoken conflict! Because they finally have to talk about it! They heal the broken trust! Bruce admits how much Hal's betrayal hurt him and his faith in heroes, and gets past it! Instead of letting a former and potential future threat be eliminated as his fail-safes say he should, he invites the threat back, even if he can't guarantee it won't happen again, because he chooses to believe in his friend!

The contingency plans are a cool and interesting concept, but again, you can't just...take Hal out of it. You can't make it about some evil alternate versions, or about Clark. By doing that, you lose the most heartbreaking part of the story. Batman isn't in the right or the wrong, but he's not heartless. He's brokenhearted.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yanderes in a Zombie Apocalypse...The Kind Survivor

Imagine the zombie apocalypse starts and suddenly the entire world itself is turned upside down. Those who survive are the ones who can adapt quickly or be lucky enough to be dragged by the former. You re some of the few that adapt turning everyday items into tools and weapons to guarantee your survival. While you could go at it alone you don’t. Shaking your coworker or classmate out of their horror-stricken state and saving them from being eaten. 

“Hey you better move it or you’ll end up just like them.”

Maybe you know you’ll be lonely or that you can’t leave someone behind or maybe it's because it's them. Always so forthcoming and so kind to you before the world turned into this. Maybe you consider this payback for their hospitality, either way, you’re leading them away from the danger to regroup somewhere safe.

“T-thank you (Y/n).”

“It's fine, Wendall. Just keep moving we can’t rest here.”

“Right!”

He’s the Kind Survivor, the one who holds onto his sweet, trusting persona. Leaving you to be the untrusting hardened protector. Your roles become clear as you unwillingly are added to a group of fellow survivors. Of course, it’s him who proposes staying with the team still silently accepting your unspoken alliance. Even when the group discards your opinion for their own plan, he advocates for them, soothing your anger.

“I don’t trust them Wendy!”

“(Y/n) we can’t do this alone! We have to trust in them!”

“Until we can’t. What do you plan to do then?!”

“T-then we can leave. Okay (Y/n)...I’ll start thinking about us….about you more okay?”

“Thanks… I’ll be more open-minded.”

For a while, this will work, with your Kind Survivor becoming an important voice in the group while you gain their respect and reverie. Wendall couldn’t be happier, falling into a sense of normalcy as he watches you grow emotionally. For a while, this feels right. 

But this doesn’t last.

The first betrayal ruins him opens his eyes. One selfish member's actions put everyone at risk but who suffers the most is you. Led out on a fool’s errand only to be swarmed and backed into a corner. Nothing but your wits and survival instincts to let you lead the remaining scouts with you. You’re holed up in a roof for days, forced to stay quiet, stave your hunger, and remain vigilant. As you hoped, Wendall and the surviving group arrive with food and medicine as everyone reunites.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!”

“Hey, Wendy.”

“Oh, my–(Y/n) you can’t believe how happy I am to see you!”

“...I trusted you’d come…and you did.”

No one’s more happy to be reunited than your Kind Survivor who doesn’t dare relay the frustrating tale of that one’s betrayal. Only holding you close and rubbing his face against your head as he burns your scent into his memory all over again. It's another member who tells you while Wendall lasor focuses on checking you for any and all injuries. You don’t seem all that perturbed–your inclination to trust the others was right—all was well. Sure there was betrayal but you didn’t like that one member much at all so it wasn’t much of a deal to you. The same cannot be said for your Kind Survivor.

“I’m okay Wendy. I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten in days I wouldn’t call that fine.” 

“Wendy I–”

“Hush. Eat before anything…please.”

He’s still so sweet. Always so kind. But something's…amiss. The other members feel he’s not the same. Those on midnight watch find his eyes staring at your resting form, not even moving away when they joke with him. When he does turn to look at them, there’s something fiery, something dark lingering behind those eyes before he hides them with his typical amicable smile. They begin to fear him.

“Ah, Wendall-san?”

“What is it? Jjitjg?”

“Uh, nothing never mind.”

The members have a right to. Wendall is dealing with an anger he’s hardly ever experienced. All his life had been a constant string of highs—working his dream job, meeting you, getting to hang out with you. But then the world turned mad which didn’t initially scare him as much as it should. Somehow being saved and haphazardly comforted by you it still wasn’t so bad. He thought the same when you both joined the group. But when that one member betrayed the whole team it shattered him. How could they?! Leaving his (Y/n) out there! When they so courageously followed the so-called leader on this goose chase!? What was his baby doing now while they simply huddled in fear of that one?! How were you feeling being so far for so long?! 

He? He was dying. 

Would you be disgusted that your Kind Survivor was truly contemplating letting all the others die while he went to search for you? Disgusted in knowing that it was he who was behind that one’s sudden psychosis? He didn’t care!

But when he saw your smiling face he was relieved but still fuming. This..band of wretches was why you were bedded for a week. These worthless meat sacks were using up the supplies meant to take care of you. These fleas were eating all the food that should have rightfully belonged to you.

It was a rising resentment. Pushed down and suffocated every time so that he could steer this group right and properly encourage your latest streak of compassion. It made you so much more integral to the group, as a protector and a leader. 

It made his skin crawl. He was so proud of you.

It was another member’s incompetence that puts the nail in the coffin–the entire group’s coffins. Since the death of your old leader the group was out of sync; squabbling and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Of course, the most incompetent one volunteered for the role; forcefully pressuring the others to follow their lead. It led to chaos. The chaos that relied on you to save everyone again. Again, forcing you to risk your life.

“This–this–this is the second time–”

“That I’ve survived the impossible? Don’t know, guess I’m just the best human shield there is.”

“No! This is the second time you’ve almost died because of them! I can’t–I can’t!”

He snaps. 

You can calm your Kind Survivor all you like but the damage has been done. He’ll bow and apologize to everyone who’s witnessed it. But he’s not sorry. He’s determined. At a moment's notice, he fights to free you from them even if you resist. Physically you might be able to overpower him but he shouldn’t be underestimated. After all your Kind Survivor has learned so much. So many ways to subdue you, so many ways to trick the group; running off with you will be easy. With so much time to plan he’ll get his plan off without a hitch. 

By the time he’s done, you’ll both be miles away from the ruins that were this ragtag team.

“I’m sorry (Y/n)...I thought we’d be safe with others. Now I know we’re better off on our own; where only we can trust each other.”

Your Kind Survivor has grown a lot and he’s learned not everyone’s worth both of your compassion. In fact, he’s made the executive decision to actively keep it and you all to himself.

By any means necessary.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

you're a mean one, mr. miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and ellie decide the solution to joel's grinch-like approach to the holidays lies in finding him the perfect gift

warnings: jackson era, grumpy old man!joel, significant other!reader, fluff, mild angst, gift giving, christmas at the miller's, so many polaroids

word count: 3.8k

12 days of pedro masterlist - ty to @hellishjoel for organizing this project <3

The Miller household always gets a little tense around the holidays. When the days shorten and snow begins to fall, Joel throws himself into patrols and plans for winter-proofing Jackson, and it's all he'll talk about for months. It's obvious he does it on purpose. 

Christmas is basically an unspoken no-no under his roof, and there might as well be a swear jar for the word if his reaction is any indication. He refuses to acknowledge it and only tolerates the day itself because he knows it makes you and Ellie happy. 

You just wish it made him happy, too. You know it used to. Every year, Tommy regales stories about their Christmases in Austin as kids, and later with Sarah. Joel loved Christmas. 

They used to visit the tree farm, pick the tallest, fullest tree they could fit in their living room, and decorate it the very same day. Their attic and even parts of their garage were home to lights and tinsel in every color you could think of, and ornaments Sarah brought home from art classes and the yearly holiday fair at school.

All of that changed after the outbreak. It wasn't just her passing that did it. It wasn't even the threat of death or worse lurking around every corner. It was time. 

Joel just got used to life without it. After 22 years of missed holidays, he decided he didn't actually miss them at all. He couldn't afford to spare precious resources or energy on anything that wasn't necessary for survival. But that isn't the point of Christmas, is it? 

You celebrate your loved ones and their joy. You celebrate life. Here in Jackson, he finally has all of that, but if Joel is anything, he's a stubborn man set in his ways. You can tell he's still resistant to the idea because he genuinely believes there are better uses for his time.

You can also tell he's afraid to let his guard down. You just haven't figured out a way to show him he doesn't have to be. No one's safety is guaranteed in the world you live in, but you're protected now. And that responsibility isn't solely on him anymore.

If you could give him anything for Christmas this year, it would be peace. One day, even just a few hours of tensionless shoulders and a wrinkle-free brow would be a gift for all of you. He deserves to enjoy something merry and cheerful again, just for the sake of it.  

So, you ask the person who knows him best in the world for help.

"What do we think about getting Joel a Christmas gift this year?"

Ellie glances up from her guitar with the most incredulous look you've ever seen on her face. 

"Depends. Do you have a death wish?" she jokes, draping her arm over her instrument so she's sitting more comfortably. She's settling in—you both know this is about to be a painful conversation.

"No, but—," you sigh, leaning against the door behind you. It's still chilled, even through your coat, from when you barged into the shed and interrupted her practice. "I don't know. He wouldn't make that big of a deal, would he? It doesn't have to be anything flashy, just something small. Something nice."

"So, you wanna get Joel something nice for a holiday he hates? That makes total sense," she says, rolling her eyes.

You don't appreciate the sarcasm, but you expected it. She knows as well as you do that Joel won't be thrilled by the gesture, if he even accepts it.

"El, come on. I could really use your help here," you try to appeal to the part of her that usually can't say no to you, and thankfully she's starting to cave. "If there's anyone who can come up with a present Joel will actually like, it's you."

She sighs. Her fingers drum an arrhythmic beat on the wood grain while she thinks, a habit she must've picked up from Joel.

"Look, Joel's not really a 'thing' kinda guy," she replies, and she's probably right. He's never been the kind of guy who has physical attachments. "When's the last time he actually gave a shit when something broke or got lost? Even his watch is broken."

"Yeah, but that's different. You know it's different," you counter softly. But you can see the point she's trying to make. "Okay, so we don't get him a 'thing'."

She nods, waiting for you to offer another idea, but you're even more stumped than you were when you got here. 

"Maybe you can draw him something?" you grimace, grasping at straws now.

"His house is full of shit I've drawn," she deadpans. "Plus, I thought this was an us gift. That sounds like a 'me doing all the work' gift."

You let out a frustrated groan, and your head thunks dully against the door. You knew this wasn't going to be an easy task, but you thought it would at least be possible. Joel's a complicated man—it's one of the things you love most about him—but his wants and needs are surprisingly simple. 

He loves a home-cooked meal, especially meat and potatoes. He enjoys cold beers with Tommy on the porch during the summer and walking Ellie through complicated picking patterns when she's stuck on a song. He likes relaxing on the couch and watching old Westerns or cheesy action movies, and craves your body, soft and pliant, under his after a frustrating day on patrol.

But you want this to mean more than any of that. A special something that goes beyond the norm to loosen some of the springs that keep him wound up tight and constantly in motion. 

You glance around Ellie's space as your hope begins to dwindle, and the corkboard above her bed catches your eye. It's always been there, covered in doodled-on scrap paper and photos of her family and friends, and you're positive you've seen it hundreds of times since you've been in Jackson. But this time, it gives you an idea. The idea.

"That Polaroid camera you found in Eugene's basement—the one in the library. Does it work?"

Ellie's brows furrow at your sudden question. She clearly didn't expect it, but you're hoping she'll be on board once she finally catches on.

"Uhh, yeah, Cat and I were messing around with it the other day. Worked pretty well for us," she replies hesitantly, pointing at the entertainment console next to you. "It's next to the PlayStation."

Humming in response, you squat in front of the shelf to inspect it. It's in great condition, even better than you expected. Even the flash button lights up and whirs just like you remember. 

Before she can protest, you whip around and snap an extremely candid, brightly lit photo of her. If the look on her face is the same one you just caught on film, then you're already off to a great start.

"Dude, what the fuck? What was that for?" she groans in annoyance, blinking the bright spots out of her vision.  

"A scrapbook," you grin. "For Joel."

She's still glaring at you as she rubs her eyes, but she bites back whatever retort she was about to say. You watch her expectantly as she chews on the idea, relief blooming in your chest when she finally nods.

"I guess that could work," she says slowly, still thinking over the logistics in her head. But then she frowns. "When exactly did you plan on taking all those photos? Not to be a downer, but Christmas is in like, a week."

Damn, she's right again. It'll be hell in a handbasket to fill an entire scrapbook in that amount of time, and even if you manage it, it'll be a half-assed attempt at best.

No, if you're going to do this, then you're going to do it right. No rushed or slapstick presents for the man who already hates Christmas—Joel deserves better than that.

"What if we let Joel do his bah-humbug thing one last time? That's probably his idea of a perfect gift, anyway. Then next year, it'll be this," you hand her the fully-developed Polaroid.

It shows Ellie hugging the guitar Joel made for her, but there's no sign of the shocked annoyance that followed the camera flash. Instead, she's smiling. She has that rare, unguarded expression on her face, the one reserved only for people she trusts. It's a tender moment of peace, forever frozen in time.

She looks up at you, and you can see it in her eyes. She gets it, now.

"You do realize it's still a 'thing' present though, right?" she interjects playfully, and you have to resist the urge to grab the wood polishing cloth on the table next to you and swat her with it.

"Yeah, but it's a sappy thing. Admit it, Joel's a huge sap and you know it. You said it yourself, his house is basically a glorified fridge with your art magnetized to the walls."

She rolls her eyes again, but you can see the smile tugging at her lips. She knows it's true.

"So, you'll help me?" you ask, daring to hope that she'll agree.

"As long as you don't pull this shit again, I'll do whatever you want," she lifts the Polaroid, shooting you a dirty, but affectionate look before handing it back to you.

A grin breaks out across your face, and you bolt across the room to hug her awkwardly around the instrument still sitting in her lap. She places it down so she can wrap her arms around you properly. 

Physical affection has never really been Ellie's thing but if you catch her at the right moment on the right day, you might get lucky. Today, you do.

"So, when do we get started?" she asks, pulling away.

"Right now," you reply, unable to contain your excitement. For the first time in over two decades, Joel Miller might actually have a merry Christmas, and that's something to celebrate. 

"Now?" she gapes at you, looking over her shoulder longingly at her guitar as you drag her out of the shed. She barely has enough time to grab a coat before you're out in the cold with nothing but each other, a camera, and a plan.

"Now." 

ONE YEAR LATER

Jackson in the spring is one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen, even among your memories of the world pre-outbreak. Snow remains on the mountain peaks in the distance, but the foliage below blooms with the promise of warmer weather. Somehow, you managed to capture it all—fresh flowers in the shop windows, friends and neighbors shedding their coats and congregating in the streets, and the post-winter excitement that spreads more and more with each sunny day. 

You hid the stack of photographs in an empty jumbo box of tampons in the hall closet, positive they’d be safe from Joel’s prying eyes while you and Ellie continued your mission.

In the summer, two new foals were born, and Ellie and Maria spent almost every day at the stables to help out where they could. They even named them—Shimmer was Maria’s choice, and Ellie named the other Callus just to piss off Joel. Not only did it work, but it resulted in some of the cutest pictures of the season. 

Joel and Tommy built a porch swing for Maria and their rambunctious toddler and spent countless balmy nights drinking Tommy's extra-strength whiskey and shooting the shit. They even broke out their guitars every so often and managed to bully Ellie into playing with them once or twice. You caught that on camera, too. 

Slowly but surely, the memory box filled up, and the photos were transferred to a scrapbook you and Ellie made yourselves—with a little local help. One of the school teachers happened to be a former librarian with a bookbinding hobby, and graciously gave you a treasure trove of old, tattered books that were perfect for your project. 

By autumn, everything was falling into place. Ellie adorned those pages with painted leaves in shades of red, orange, and yellow to complement the photos you took at the town’s annual Harvest Festival and Thanksgiving potluck. You hopped around from booth to booth, table to table, and thanked your lucky stars that Eugene was a hoarder and held onto every pack of film he found over the years.

Now, it's the night before Christmas and you have a single shot left. One last photo intended for the final page, but you can’t think of anything you haven’t already documented. Looking around Tommy’s living room, there are plenty of moments you’d love to capture, and yet none of them feel like the moment. 

How the Grinch Stole Christmas plays in the background while you sit on their couch, curled into Joel’s side with Ellie’s head on your lap, but you’re barely paying attention, still lost in your thoughts. Joel isn’t paying attention, either—he was unsurprisingly averse to the movie to begin with—so when you don’t laugh along with everyone else at the Grinch’s antics, he immediately knows something’s up. He kisses your temple, careful not to jostle Ellie.

“What’s got you so in your head you’re not even laughin’ at Jim Carrey? I thought you loved this movie,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. His familiar Southern twang somehow warms you up more than the fireplace crackling next to the television. 

“I do. I think I’m just getting a little sleepy, is all,” you reply softly, sagging into him. “Winter dance prep sucked this week. It’s like everyone conveniently forgot they volunteered to help.”

He nods, mumbling an apology into your hair.

“Guess that makes sense. All that runnin’ around you’ve been doing with that camera of yours probably ain’t helpin’ either,” he says offhandedly, and your brows furrow in response.

It’s not the first time he’s mentioned your sudden interest in photography, but with his gift sitting less than 10 feet away under Tommy and Maria’s Christmas tree, it seems more than a little suspicious. You catch Ellie glancing up at you in your peripheral, and you meet her gaze as discreetly as you can.

“Yeah, maybe,” you laugh it off, hoping it doesn’t sound as tense to Joel’s ears as it does to yours.

“What are you doin’ with all of those photos anyway? I swear, you take ‘em and then they disappear into thin air,” he presses on, none the wiser.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you joke, shaking your head as if that’ll shake off all of his incoming questions. But it doesn’t work nearly as well as you hoped.

“Y’know, I was wonderin’ that myself,” Tommy interjects from the recliner to your right. “You’ve been takin’ photo after photo for almost a year, and I don’t think I’ve seen a single one.”

Maria scoffs next to him, coming to the rescue before you’re forced to come up with a believable explanation. 

“Mind your own damn business,” she smacks him in the chest, then shoots you a sympathetic look. 

You asked for her help not long after you and Ellie started planning Joel’s gift, so she knows how important this is. The last thing she’s going to do is let her husband’s need to stir the pot ruin it. But Tommy’s not the type of guy to give in that easily.

“I’m just sayin’, might be nice take a look at ‘em. You probably got some good ones of the kids in there, ‘specially from birthdays and holidays—,” he manages to get out before Ellie cuts him off.

“Can you guys have this conversation somewhere else? Some of us are actually trying to watch the movie,” she sits up from her spot on your lap to glare in his direction. 

Then, Tommy abruptly stands like something just occurred to him and strides across the room to the mantle above the fireplace—right where you set the camera down earlier. Your heart leaps into your throat. 

“Hold up. This thing’s still got one shot left, don’t it?” he asks excitedly, and you’re not sure how to shut him down without drawing too much attention to yourself or sounding mildly hysterical.

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Oh shit, s’got a timer and everythin’,” he continues, fiddling with its limited settings. He turns back towards the rest of the group and holds up the camera with a grin. “C’mon, everybody get together. We’re takin’ our first official Christmas card photo.”

“But, Tommy—,” you try again, but you’re drowned out by Joel’s sad attempt to leave the room.

“Look, I said I’d watch the movie, but I sure as hell didn’t agree to take a damn Christmas photo,” he grumbles, moving to stand, but you latch onto his flannel before he gets too far. He softens at your downtrodden expression and settles back in.

“Just to be clear, m’doin this for her, not for you,” he amends his previous statement gruffly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You kiss his cheek gratefully, and Ellie pretends to gag as she shuffles to sit between your legs.

“Whatever you say, big brother. All you gotta do is sit there and look pretty. Think you can handle that?” Tommy teases him, making one final adjustment to the camera's placement. “Alright y’all, here we go.”

He sets the timer, then runs to the couch, squishing into the only available spot between Maria and an armrest. Everyone huddles together with varying levels of smiles and grimaces on their faces while you wait for the camera to go off. Except, it doesn't.

“Wait, how long did you set the timer for?” you peer around Maria to see Tommy looking genuinely dumbfounded.

“…Does it not just go 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, shoot?” he asks sheepishly.

"Oh my god, are you kidding me?" Ellie groans, leaning back against you, and the entire couch bursts out laughing. 

And in that moment, the flash goes off.

Yeah, this is the one.

The photo in your hands feels like the culmination of every memory you made and preserved in the past year. Five faces—and one tiny sleeping one—look up at you, fully developed and as happy as you've ever seen them.

Tommy and Maria sit side by side with their son in her lap, their heads thrown back in laughter. Next to them, Ellie sits between your legs, mid-knee slap, as you cackle with your chin resting on top of her head.

And then there's Joel, grinning from ear to ear as he looks on at the family he's fought so hard to protect. The family that's safe and sound, and enjoying an ordinarily special day, just for the sake of it. You can only hope that a book full of photos and everything it represents will be enough to convince him once and for all that it's the truth.

As you slide the final Polaroid into place, Joel sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

"What's all this?" he watches curiously as you close the book and swipe your hand lovingly across the cover. Then, you pick it up and turn in his embrace, leaning back against the kitchen counter. 

"A gift," you reply carefully, hugging it to your chest. 

You glance over to where Ellie's still sitting in the living room, but she shakes her head and offers you a small smile, her delicate way of telling you that you're on your own. You take a deep breath before continuing.

"It's a Christmas present from me and Ellie," you explain, hoping to convey even a fraction of what this means to you. "Look, we know this isn’t necessarily your favorite day, but...we still wanted to do something nice for you."

He nods, his expression frustratingly unreadable. But then he does something unexpected.

"Y'gonna keep huggin' it or are you gonna show it to me?" he drawls jokingly, and your brows shoot up in shock.

"You wanna see it?" 

His face falls, and you immediately feel terrible at the brief wave of hurt that crosses his features. You didn't mean to sound so surprised, but you didn't anticipate this easy acceptance.

"'Course I do. The two of you spent a whole year workin' on this thing, why wouldn't I?"

That grin you know he loves lights up your entire face, and you turn to place his gift back on the counter. Flipping to the first page, you step aside and let him explore it for himself.

He takes in each moment of each season slowly, running his fingers across Ellie's doodles between photos and in the margins. Spring is framed by butterflies that you're somehow just realizing are painted in all of Sarah's favorite colors. 

Ellie added so many painstaking details you'd never talked about. You're not even sure how she knew something like that, but you're grateful it's there. Joel notices it too, and reaches down to take your hand, gripping it tightly for the rest of the book. 

He's silent as flips through summer and fall, and when he finally reaches winter, you feel him begin to tremble beside you. 

The last page sits open in front of you, the photo from earlier flanked on either side by notes from you and Ellie. As he reads, then rereads them, you can see the cogs turning. He's starting to understand why you did this—and how something as simple as a photograph isn't just a look back on a life well-lived. It's a reminder to keep living.

“This is…,” his brows furrow as he tries to find the words to express the conflicting thoughts racing through his head.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything," is what he ultimately settles on, but when he looks up at you, his eyes are wet. You immediately drop his hand to cup his cheeks.

"You didn't need to. I have everything I've ever wanted right here," you tell him gently, brushing away the tears threatening to fall. 

You glance over at the familiar faces in the living room, the same ones looking up at you from the page below, and he follows your gaze. The tension in his body begins to bleed away the longer he watches them, and you learn the wrinkle in his brow isn't actually the permanent fixture it always seemed to be.

He reaches up to cover one of your hands with his own, and you can feel his heart racing through his fingertips. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this is the moment it happens. If his heart grew three sizes bigger today, and if he's finally ready to give himself the gift of peace.

“Merry Christmas, Joel Miller," you whisper, kissing him deeply as the sweet voice of Cindy Lou Who brings the movie credits rolling in the distance to a close.

thanks for reading and happy holidays!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[comicaurora]

Inspired by that previous ask, is there a specific name for that kinda really specific trope where two allies stage a big fight/argument between them, usually to draw out the villain or because they need to convince the villain that one of them is Super Down To Turn Evil Now? (Crucially, the heroes deliberately set the fight up and both of them are in on the plan and aware it's not a real fight, not any of that miscommunication-enabled bs)

That's the Fake Defector! The trope as written includes the cases where the "traitor" doesn't explain the plan to their friends first and there's a degree of miscommunication, but since its execution often relies pretty heavily on the Unspoken Plan Guarantee, the audience usually doesn't know how much information their allies actually have when they "turn traitor," and will only find out who was in on it when they inevitably reveal that they're actually still a good guy.

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape - The Wedding Pt.1 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Language, Alcohol Consumption, its really just a whole lot of fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: The beginning of the long awaited wedding! I have decided I will be releasing this in chunks, I cannot guarantee when each one will be coming but it will all be in the universe soon enough. I love you all and appreciate those of you have been kind and patient, I'm still here y'all I promise. Once again I cannot follow the same tense while writing and this has not been fully edited.

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Epilogue

What if I come and stay until 11:55?” His voice is whiny and desperate, making you laugh.

“Lewis, you have to go before Charlotte and Miles come and drag you.” You tell your pouting fiancé, still laughing at him.

You’re standing outside the fancy restaurant rented for your rehearsal dinner, snow falling around you as people start to clear out. Lewis had been attached to your hip for the last few days, his adoration for you only growing as you two approached your wedding day, The day that you had perfectly planned together.

“Wanna sleep next to you though.” Lewis says quietly, a cheeky smirk on his face as he pulls you against him, his hand traveling down to your bum.

“Lew! My parents are right there.” You whisper shout, grabbing his forearm to move it up to your lower back.

He just laughed, shaking his head before pressing himself against you even firmer, “Seriously, can we stay together just a little while longer? Promise I’ll leave before midnight.”

You could tell his intentions weren’t to sleep and you knew you would be hard pressed to kick him out later in the evening. You’re not a particularly traditional person but you were holding to sleeping apart the night before the wedding, much to his dismay. His mother had been the one to bring it up during wedding planning and while Lewis thought it was a horrible concept you were more than happy to go along, it made her happy and it made everything feel even more real. Two suites had been rented for the night at different hotels, mostly to keep Lewis from sneaking into your bed in the middle of the night.

“Bruv, if you don’t let go of her and come get in the damn car, I will remove you myself.” Miles’ voice boomed from behind you, saving you from having to turn your fiancé down yet again.

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing Miles and Charlotte were tightly wound, the stress getting to them both as if it was their own wedding. You could see that Lewis was finally accepting defeat, rolling his eyes but nodding to Miles, motioning that he would be there in a second.

“It’s fucking crazy that the next time I see you will be at the altar.” Lewis whispers, looking giddy yet anxious.

“Gonna be Mrs. Hamilton tomorrow!” Your voice was quiet as you tried to hold back your squeal of excitement.

You were beyond elated to be marrying your best friend. When he proposed he had made it very clear that you could be engaged as long as you wanted, that nothing needed to be rushed. Only two years later you were here, ready to marry the love of your life in less than twenty four hours.

“Son, I think Miles is going to explode if we don’t all get going.” You hear Anthony laugh from nearby, evidently amused by the frantic state that Miles was in.

“Okay, okay.” Lewis just laughs, glancing at Miles who was now pacing outside of the black town car.

“I love you, get some sleep, need you in tip top shape tomorrow.” You say to Lewis, leaning up to place a family friendly kiss to his lips as you pat his chest

“Yes ma’am, I love you too.” Lewis mumbles against your lips.

Lewis stares at you for a moment, love pouring out of his dark brown eyes before squeezing your waist once more and walking off toward Miles who looks about ready to shove Lewis into the trunk if it means they’ll leave any quicker. Having said your goodbyes to everyone earlier, you make your way over toward Charlotte where she’s waiting by your own matching town car.

“You look much calmer than Miles was.” You laugh as she makes a ridiculous display of opening the door for you.

“Well thankfully I’m in charge of the much easier spouse,” She giggles, following you into the car, “I knew you’d stick to your guns and send him on his way. Miles on the other hand has about ten different plans of ways to just about lock Lewis in his room, pretty sure a straight jacket is on the table.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing Lewis will more than likely continue to complain throughout the night. You would be lying if you said you truly didn’t want to be next to him for the night, you always sleep better in his arms, but you know one night away from each other won’t kill either of you, you’ve done it countless times before. It’s been rather adorable to you how clingy Lewis had gotten over the past few weeks, it was rather unlike him but you weren’t going to fight it. You know it’s something he does sometimes when he needs to ground himself, and right now his emotions are at an all time high. There had been a few snafus with decorations and such in the weeks leading up to now, each one seemed to wind him that much tighter, the perfectionist in him struggling.

When you arrived in the suite you were exhausted and ready for your pajamas but knew there was no way you were ready to go to sleep just yet. Your mom was waiting for you in the suite when you arrived, already opening a bottle of wine and urging you and Charlotte to come sit with her, a much needed moment of decompression. You’ve been busy all day; last minute preparations, the wedding rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner with all of both of your families. You were drained yet still so full of adrenaline. Being around Lewis all day had helped immensely, always so in tune with each others moods and needs, more than once he had rescued you from a conversation that felt like it had just gone on too long. It also helped that he was bubbling with excitement and energy, even after so long you frequently questioned where he got it, the level rarely faltering.

It wasn’t long before Charlotte was excusing herself to go get ready for bed, leaving you alone with your mom.

“This is all still so crazy to me.” Your moms voice is quiet and kind.

“Which part?” You laugh, taking a sip of your wine.

“All of it!” You mom says, gesturing into the air, “The fact that my baby is getting married, that her wedding is in a castle, that she’s marrying a man that we watched and admired racing for years, the fact that he’s the love of her life, just all of it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at your moms little rant, because it was true, so much of it felt surreal but everything was perfect.

“I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.” You tell her softly, sincerely, taking a moment to think back on everything that has happened over the last three years.

Growing up, Sundays were reserved for F1, you and your mom massive Hamilton fans from the very beginning of his career. When you had told her that you had met him she freaked out nearly as much as you originally had, fangirling in a way you had never thought possible. Your dad thought it was impressive too, making a comment about you never leaving the city to come home and visit them now that you were hanging out with celebrities. When you told your parents that you were dating, your mom was incredibly happy for you but never let her admiration of Lewis get in the way of her daughter's well being, she made sure to check in with you frequently, always worried that his distance and status may be taking a toll on you. Your father on the other hand was less than pleased when he first learned about your relationship, preconceived notions about Lewis’ personal life and persona taking over, less than pleased with the age difference between the two of you. It took a while, but Lewis was able to win him over and you’ve never been more grateful for anything, you were desperate for all the people you loved to get along.

Now you had a fiancé who spoke with your father without you needing to be around, a mother who had befriended Lewis’ mother and stepmother and adored him, and were mere hours away from becoming his wife. Life truly does come at you fast.

“You’re ready?” Your mom asked, breaking the silence that had settled in the room.

“I truly don’t think I’ve ever been so ready for something. I’m nervous of course but there’s no one else that I would rather be with for the rest of my life. I’m sure of that.” Your voice was confident as you spoke, meaning every word.

“I’m so glad you found someone so good for you hun, he truly is a dream. Hell, I wish I had met someone like him when I was your age,” Your mom laughed, sending you a wink, “don’t tell your dad I said that.”

“Secrets safe with me,” You giggled back, “but I don’t think there’s another one of him.”

“Not that I’ve ever seen.” Your mom shrugged, the soft smile never leaving her face.

You can’t help but giggle at the conversation you're having with your mother. You’ve never been one to be sappy but the emotions boiling inside of you leading up to your big day are sending you over the edge, truly letting all the cliche thoughts you have about Lewis come to the forefront.

“You, my dear, need to get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you and need to be well rested for your night.” Your mom winked making you groan through a laugh.

“Mom!” You buried your head in your hands.

You and your mom have always been open with each other about every aspect of your life but you didn’t need to hear her joke about you consummating your marriage.

“But truly, you should try to get some sleep.” She laughed at your embarrassment, trying and failing to come off seriously.

“You’re right, I’ll try.” You say, rolling your eyes as you finish off the last of the wine in your glass

[another-lost-mc]

kisses on the battlefield | solomon x reader

cw: sfw. hurt/comfort. descriptions of canon-typical violence. light angst with a happy ending. gn!reader (referred to as mc, they/them pronouns). wc: 1.7k+

“No, I won't go,” Solomon argued with Diavolo, a large map on the table between them. He was already on edge from the looming danger waiting for them all on the horizon; he wasn't convinced you would be safe if he left you now. He looked to Barbatos for support, but the demon's unreadable expression made him feel even worse about this plan.

You were assigned leadership over the group of witches and wizards sent by the Sorcerer’s Society. You shared an apprehensive look with him as you crossed paths outside the tent. You both wanted to linger, to stay and share one more farewell (in addition to the hurried moments you shared earlier that day), but there wasn't anymore time.

Solomon practically threw his hands up in the air and spun on his heel so he could follow you, Diavolo's orders be damned. He knew the human sorcerers were responsible for defending the eastern quadrant—he'd find you and keep you safe. That was his intention, until Barbatos blocked his way and Diavolo called his name behind him.

Solomon snarled in frustration as he turned back to the demon prince. "The reapers don't need me. Let me pass."

But Barbatos was unmoving, and Diavolo shook his head. “The reapers need your help repairing the damage to the seal that allowed this to happen. We need to stop the hostile force here, before the three realms descend into chaos. Your pacts should give you the additional reinforcements you need.”

With a few exceptions, of course—Asmodeus and Barbatos were both needed elsewhere, and Solomon knew he wouldn't be able to summon them.

Solomon gritted his teeth. "Fine, then I'll bring MC with me. They can assist with repairing the seal." And I can keep an eye on them myself.

Diavolo sighed heavily, and Solomon saw something vulnerable in his eyes, something that looked like regret. “MC is too important to our defenses. The human sorcerers need someone to lead them that they can trust in your place. They're also the only one capable of empowering the Avatars of Sin to bolster our ranks, should we need them to."

Diavolo understood Solomon’s hesitancy. He had a similar conversation with you, privately, before Solomon arrived. You were equally torn about being separated from him and facing the unknown dangers alone. You took less convincing to go along with Diavolo's plan—you knew this was the best course of action, even if you didn't like it.

Unfortunately, there was no guarantee Diavolo could make to you that Solomon would return unscathed while he assisted the reapers with their task. Likewise, there was no promise Diavolo could make to Solomon that even if he returned, you would be unharmed.

“You have my word that I will do everything in my power to keep MC safe,” Diavolo told him seriously. It was the best the demon prince could offer to appease Solomon's doubts, but the oath tasted like ash on his tongue.

Barbatos glanced at Diavolo knowingly behind the sorcerer's back, and the unspoken truth hung between them: Solomon would become their enemy too, should they fail to protect you.

Solomon realized he had little choice. He told himself that he would do this for you, because you deserved better than a future torn apart by war and death. He uttered a curse under his breath and glared venomously at Diavolo before he disappeared.

Solomon and the reapers finally sealed the magical tear that allowed the eldritch beasts to invade from the farthest reaches of the cosmos. He went to the battlefield to find you as soon as Thirteen assured him that their task was complete.

He expected to find you on the eastern front with the other sorcerers, but all he found there was the aftermath of carnage. The ground was broken and scorched by flame and it ran wet with odd, inky-black blood. He realized quickly that the largest battle must've been fought here and his blood froze in his veins.

He finally stumbled on some lingering demons and human sorcerers that were helping evacuate the remaining survivors. As soon as they mentioned a healers' camp set up near RAD, he teleported immediately to the Devildom.

Solomon recognized the battle-weary faces of his demon and angel and human acquaintances when he arrived, but he couldn't bear to stop until he found you.

His heart clenched with equal parts hope and worry when he finally spotted Asmodeus and Simeon speaking together near one of the tents. They both greeted him with relieved expressions despite their dirtied faces and ripped clothing, stained with mud and gore.

"It's good to see you," Simeon said, clasping his shoulder.

Solomon didn't have time for pleasantries. "I just arrived. Where's MC?"

Asmo shook his head. "They're fine. Lucifer and Mammon took them to one of the tents back there," he said, pointing to a small cluster of tents close to the RAD building.

Solomon tried to push past him, but Asmo grabbed his arm. He didn't flinch when Solomon bared his teeth angrily at him. "Let me go."

"Wait," Asmo urged him quietly. "MC's mostly unharmed, but Solomon it was—it was bad."

Icy dread flooded his body all over again. "Tell me."

Diavolo snapped the would-be assassin's neck in his grasp before he flung the limp corpse aside. Not far from him, Barbatos eviscerated an enemy with a slash from the glinting dagger in his hand.

"I don't like this," Lucifer muttered at his side. Diavolo nodded and peered around. The demon army was anxiously waiting, but the invasion they anticipated was nowhere to be seen. He trusted Thirteen's information that the dark, otherworldly threat had broken through the realms' defenses, so where—?

"My lord," Barbatos breathed, staring at something behind him in the distance.

Diavolo turned as a bright red flare shot into the dark sky. Another flare followed, and another, and another after that, until the sky was littered with dozens of fiery wisps of magic. It was a signal to warn the other defensive positions that the intruders were spotted, and they all came from the east.

The wind carried the shrill, foreign language of nightmare creatures as small portals appeared across the battlefield and the monstrous entities charged through and finally began their attack.

In an instant, another large, dark portal opened above the area where you and your fellow sorcerers were stationed. The ground shook as something shot from the portal and engulfed the eastern battlefield in purple flames and black smoke.

Oh, no.

Lucifer grunted at Diavolo's side and suddenly disappeared as the power of your pact summoned him to you. Barbatos was already redirecting forces to aid the human defenders, but Diavolo felt dread pool in his stomach. He took off in flight and slashed at everything in his path, hoping they weren't too late.

Solomon paused outside your tent when he heard Mammon's familiar voice within; he sounded exasperated.

"I don't care whatcha say, Satan says you gotta rest," the Greed demon lectured you.

"Mammon, I promise, I'm okay—"

The ice in Solomon's heart cracked when he finally heard your voice.

You were alive.

"Yeah, we'll see 'bout that. How many fingers am I holdin' up?"

"...three?"

Mammon scoffed. "Lucky guess."

Solomon couldn't wait anymore. He pulled the flap aside and poked his head inside the tent. Mammon was holding three fingers in front of your face, and you were trying to push his hand away. Your face lit up with recognition when they both looked to see who had arrived.

"Look, your boyfriend can talk some sense into ya. I'll see about getting you somethin' to eat." Mammon paused when he was passing Solomon on his way out and leaned towards him. "MC got hit by some type of curse, they were real dizzy for a while. Satan thinks it's worn off, but they need to take it easy. Got it?"

Solomon stared at you but nodded slowly. As soon as Mammon left the tent, he stepped towards your cot in something like a trance. He sat on the edge of the bed and glanced down when you grabbed both his hands in yours.

"I am so happy to see you," you breathed. Your smile trembled and tears dotted your lash line.

Solomon held your hands for a moment before he rested them on your lap and cupped your cheeks instead. He cradled your face in his hands so gently. He didn't know what to say. Words failed him—he was overwhelmed by the possibility of losing you earlier, and now by the relief you were here really here.

His eyes roamed your face desperately, drinking in the sight of you—a battle-worn version of you, perhaps—but in this moment, you were everything to him. He didn't know how to put his feelings for you into words, so he leaned forward and kissed you instead.

You made a surprised noise against his lips, but your fingers grasped weakly at the tattered sleeves of his coat and you drew him even closer. It was less of a kiss and more of a desperate press of your chapped lips against his, but you felt his warm breath fan across your skin and savoured the familiar taste of him on your tongue. It was comforting proof that he was alive—that you both were.

Solomon's body trembled so much it shook the rackety bed you were in, and he broke the kiss with a sob. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, the words raspy with so many emotions. "I never should've left you."

You shook your head and the corners of your lips twitched upward. "I'm grateful that I had such a good teacher," you joked, but it sounded flat to your ears when your tired voice betrayed you.

He leaned forward and buried another sob into the crook of your neck. He crushed your body to his and he hoped the salty tears on your skin and his arms wrapped tightly around you conveyed everything he felt for you—

—he won't ever leave you, and nothing in the three realms or beyond will ever hurt you ever again—

—but all his strangled voice could manage to croak out was a broken, "I love you."

You closed your eyes and smoothed your fingers through his hair, damp with sweat and dirty from the battlefield. His arms squeezed you even tighter, and you smiled despite the tears rolling down your cheeks. "I love you too."

read more: solomon masterlist | obey me! masterlist

[drainslo]

Lovers to Enemies-- Chishiya x Reader (Pt 2)

Read Part 1

Read Part 3

Read Part 4

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

The card. He took the card and left and so I was left with nothing.

To say everything seemed grim would be an understatement.

I walked outside the flaming interior of the Beach to find Arisu commemorating the dead. Noble for someone who was condemned by the very people he now tried to honor.

"Hey," I said walking over to Arisu and Usagi.

"You're alive," Usagi smiled and gave me a side-hug. In her eyes there was an unspoken sense of trauma from what we both had gone through.

"What do you think comes next?" Arisu asked, staring absentmindedly at the roaring flames which consumed the Beach.

The flames licked upward, destroying what had been our former utopia. The air was filled with a light smoke that reminded me of cigarettes every time I inhaled. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, but it felt like an appropriate reminder of the ones who had fallen.

"It could be more games." A familiar voice joined our conversation and we all turned to find An standing behind us, limping with Kuina at her side.

"God, I hope not," Kuina said.

"Are you okay?" Usagi exclaimed and chattered with the others over Kuina's injuries. Apparently she had gotten involved with Last Boss in a Karate fight to protect An. I never knew Kuina had done the sport.

The only thing I had known about Kuina was that she was close with Chishiya. I frequently saw him whispering to her during the Beach. She stayed away from me mostly. I never played games with her either.

"You're not-- with him right?" Arisu said slowly, breaking the flow of the conversation. For a second I paused, racking my thoughts to find who he was talking about until I realized who the "him" was.

"Chishiya? Hell no. I'm so sorry to you both for what he did to you. I wish it could've worked out another way," her voice trailed off as the others began to comfort her. But she never denied having any involvement in the plan.

She always knew, then.

I drifted off to the sound of soft whispers between the survivors of the Beach. Before I fully fell asleep, I could've sworn I saw the ghost of a white hoodie on the outskirts of the makeshift campground that vanished.

-------------------------------------------------

An's prediction echoed in my ears as the collar clicked around my neck. The robotic voice of a woman who I now had known to be Mira announced my registration. It of course had to be more games.

After almost dying from the King of Spades, I chose the Jack of Hearts as my venue of poison. I always did fairly well in hearts games at the Beach, and after being separated from the others I wouldn't have to betray anyone I knew. It was my specialty after all.

There was no guarantee I could find good teammates at clubs venues, and forget Spades or Diamonds. Those would have me killed faster than Chishiya tried to.

The dimly lit jail was a dismal site for a game; the walls and floors had traces of mold covering them. The players around me eyed each other with suspicion. A few chatted.

The sound of moans coming from a cell nearby made my face flush as I awkwardly craned my head to see the source of where it was coming from.

Big mistake.

A man with broad shoulders was ramming his girlfriend against the wall quite passionately. I didn't look away for a second, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when a silky voice spoke almost directly into my ear.

"Like what you see? My my, I didn't know you were into... things like that. But I guess we never tried anything like it."

Unknowingly, I instinctually backed towards the entrance of a cell that was away from the couple. I turned to find Chishiya who followed my steps until we were both in a cell.

"What--" I trailed off as he closed the door behind him with a faint click. He looked at me hungrily, the way he looked at me after he was the only survivor in a game.

I felt the cold wall touch my back as I pressed against it. Chishiya stood mere inches away from my face, threatening my very existence.

He traced my jawline with one of his hands, and with the other braced himself against the wall. I could hear the sound of his breathing amidst the faint background noise of everything else.

"I knew I'd find you here," Chishiya smiled quietly, almost to himself. "You would choose a hearts game, and the lowest one to maximize your chances of survival." He answered the question I had before I ever asked it.

He was impossibly close, and yet impossibly far away at the same time. I could've sworn he leaned in slightly, until the sound of the game starting chimed.

Without saying another word, he vanished into the main area the others were congregating. It was like he was never there, never with me.

Just as it always had been.

[nanamineedstherapy]

To Love & To Ruin

Teacher!Suguru Geto Vs Nanago

Chapter 1 - In Orbit, but Falling (Ao3)

Summary:

Staying never guaranteed closeness, and Geto learned that the hard way. When jealousy turned to shame, he found himself drifting from Gojo, too scared to bridge the widening gap. Now, years later, Geto is determined to restore what they once had—only to find that Gojo has moved on with Nanami. With Nanako and Mimiko by his side, Geto hatches a plan to tear them apart and reclaim what was once his. But love, like everything else, isn't so simple.

Or

Suguru finds himself entangled in a web of his own making, unsure whether he’s trying to fix what he broke or just ruin what Gojo has built. Meanwhile, Nanako and Mimiko’s meddling could have consequences none of them are ready for.

2012 was an ugly year for Suguru Geto.

Not that the years before were any kinder, but there was something particularly bitter about waking up one morning and realizing just how far Satoru Gojo had slipped from his grasp. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He had stayed, hadn't he? Chose the right path, didn't go rogue. But staying wasn’t enough when jealousy had rotted the foundation, leaving him too weak to repair the bridge between them.

He thought Satoru had known—how couldn’t he? The tension had simmered between them ever since high school, that unbearable pull and push, their bond tinged with something unsaid and unresolved. Suguru knew his own feelings; he was crushing, badly. But Gojo had his world on a string, floating above mere emotions. Suguru had convinced himself that his feelings would be enough, but the longer he watched Gojo surpass him, basking in a glory that Suguru could never touch, the heavier the jealousy weighed.

And so, they drifted.

It wasn’t an immediate thing. They had a way of falling in and out of each other’s lives, their dynamic like orbiting planets—coming close, then spinning off again. For the first few years, it was easy to pretend that nothing was wrong, that Suguru’s heart wasn’t eating itself alive every time Gojo grinned at him with that confident smirk. But the more Satoru grew into his own, the harder it became for Suguru to keep up. And so, eventually, he stopped trying.

That’s when the shame set in. He couldn’t look at Gojo, couldn’t bear to acknowledge the gap that was no one’s fault but his own. Every meeting felt like an unspoken accusation. So, Suguru drifted further.

Now, standing in front of Gojo’s door in 2013, fists clenched at his sides, Suguru wondered if there was even anything left to fix.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Nanako asked, standing behind him with Mimiko. They had been the only constants in his life since the spiral began—more loyal to him than he deserved.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s a good idea,” he muttered, staring at the familiar door. “I have to do this.”

It was Nanako who told him that Gojo was seeing someone. At first, Suguru laughed it off, thinking it was some joke. But when she said the name, everything inside him froze.

Kento Nanami.

Suguru’s memory flickered back to the man who had always been there in the background, always so stoic, always so... safe. It didn’t take much to piece it together. Of course, Gojo had fallen for Nanami—because unlike Suguru, Nanami was solid. Nanami was predictable.

And apparently, Nanami was exactly what Gojo had needed while Suguru was too caught up in his own insecurities to even be there for his best friend.

He hated how much it made sense.

“Nanami,” Suguru said the name with a scowl, almost spitting it out.

Nanako and Mimiko exchanged glances. “We can fix it,” Mimiko whispered. “We can fix everything.”

Suguru’s lips twitched. “Yeah,” he murmured, stepping back from the door. “But first... I need to see it for myself.”

---

Suguru didn’t expect the punch in the gut that came when he saw them together.

Gojo and Nanami sat at a café, Gojo laughing at something Nanami said. That laugh—Suguru remembered it. That used to be their laugh. He watched from a distance as Nanami leaned back, giving Gojo one of those rare smiles that softened his typically severe expression. Gojo leaned closer, brushing his fingers over Nanami's hand before pulling back, their touches almost hesitant.

For a moment, Suguru considered turning around, walking away, and pretending like he never saw them. But Nanako nudged him forward, her eyes dark and serious. “This isn’t the end. You just have to get him back.”

Suguru shook his head, feeling his stomach knot with something bitter. “He’s happy,” he whispered, voice tight. “I can’t take that away from him.”

But Nanako was insistent. “We can make him happier.”

---

The first time Gojo kissed Nanami, it was out of desperation.

Suguru hadn’t been speaking to him for months, and Gojo, though he’d never admit it, felt lost without that familiar presence by his side. Nanami had been there, as he always was—steady, reliable, a sharp contrast to the mess of emotions swirling around inside Gojo. He wasn’t sure when it shifted, when the professional distance blurred into something more intimate. All he knew was that one night, after too many drinks, he found himself pulling Nanami closer, their mouths colliding in a way that was more about seeking comfort than passion.

Nanami didn’t push him away. He never did.

Now, years later, that kiss had grown into something steady. Something neither of them had planned, but neither of them wanted to let go of. Nanami grounded Gojo in a way no one else had. He didn’t burn like Suguru did, didn’t challenge Gojo in ways that left him reeling. Nanami was peace.

But Gojo hadn’t forgotten Suguru.

Not completely.

---

The plans to break them apart started small. Nanako and Mimiko were determined, weaving subtle sabotage into their every move. Whispered rumors. "Accidental" run-ins. Invitations to places where Suguru knew Gojo and Nanami would be.

And Suguru—he let them. He hated himself for it, hated that a part of him wanted to see Nanami fail, wanted to see that relationship crumble so that maybe—just maybe—he could have a chance again.

But the more he watched, the harder it was to ignore one simple fact: Gojo had moved on.

And Suguru wasn’t sure he ever would.

So.. This was just a setup, but if you like it let me know & I'd be happy to extend it. Feel free to drop ideas on what can be done with the plot.

Thanks for reading! I’m still working on where this story is going, but expect more tension and complex feelings in future chapters. Would love to hear your thoughts on Suguru’s emotional journey! Update: Thank you everyone for the sweet comments. A lot of you were worried about Nanami—don't you worry, your pretty lil heads over it. I love that man enough to keep him trapped in my basement in order to prevent him from going to Shibuya. Even though I don't have a basement, I'll dig a hole. Shhh, don't tell FBI. This is my first time writing a longer fic seriously, so any constructive criticism is appreciated. This will probably be less than 10 chapters but if you wish it longer, do let me know. I'll try to maintain a consistent posting schedule on Fridays IST. Subscribe to Ao3 Chapter to be mailed about future updates :)

Chapter 2 - Threading the Needle (Tumblr/Ao3)

[dark-frosted-heart]

Alfons vs Roger event (Part 1)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Crown’s relationship is perfectly balanced.

Though they couldn’t be considered friends or family, there’s an unspoken connection and trust.

—Well, except for a certain “pair”.

Alfons and Roger: Unbelievable.

Kate: Did something happen? You two said that together the minute you came back from the mission.

Today, Alfons and Roger were supposed to be chasing after a serial killer who had caused quite a stir.

Roger: Al, if you’d drawn him over, I could’ve sent him to the after life in a heartbeat.

Alfons: Wow, you’re putting the blame on another? Had I not chased after you, you would have dropped dead.

Roger: I’m gonna wrap those words with a ribbon and give them back to you.

Alfons: Then I’ll wrap that ribbon around your neck.

Kate: Um, so what happened to the criminal in the end?

Alfons and Roger: William happened.

Meaning William, who seemed to have gone ahead, took care of the criminal instead of these two who couldn’t work together at all.

Kate: Regardless, I’m glad the criminal was caught.

Alfons and Roger: I’m not.

Kate: Huh?

Alfons: Every time I go on a mission with Roger, my delicate heart gets another scratch. Ahhh, woe is me!

Roger: What delicate heart. A delicate guy wouldn’t come at you himself. (•̀ ⌓ •́)

(This sort of sight isn’t surprising anymore)

Alfons and Roger have known each other since they were kids.

Had they been old friends, they would’ve gotten along exceptionally well. However, it;s the complete opposite for the two of them.

(I have a feeling that these two have the worst relationship in Crown…)

Roger: Geez, I can’t deal with this anymore.

Alfons: Oh, then be my guest. Please leave Crown and live as you like.

(A Crown resignation emergency?!)

I look around, but unfortunately, I seem to be the only one around to intervene.

(What do I do, what do I do? Ah, I got it!)

Kate: You two! I won’t give you any chocolates if you keep fighting!

Alfons and Roger: Chocolate?

Roger: Oh yeah, it’s Valentine’s Day today, isn’t it? No wonder the city was bustling.

Alfons: I heard you were making “sweetheart chocolates” last night, Miss Kate.

Kate: How did you know?

Alfons: I’m the well-informed Mr.  Sylvatica.

Last night I was baking sweets with the maids when they encouraged me to make some “sweetheart chocolates”.

(I was planning on eating them all myself…)

Roger: Sounds good. I was gettin' tired of fighting. Let’s have a contest, Al. The winner gets Kate’s chocolates and serves the loser. How’s that sound?

Alfons: It’s the best of the worst of preferences. Yes, I like that.

Kate: Hold on, what is this?!

Alfons: So, what sort of contest are we doing? Anything beside a fistfight is fine. Ah, how about this. We have two shots of vodka, one of which is poisoned. A game with no hard feelings that can be won immediately.

Roger: If one of us kicks the bucket, then there’s no point in the servant rule. Then-

The games the two kept suggesting were so outrageous that it made me dizzy.

(At this rate, a city or two is going to get blown up. What the heck do I do?)

Victor: O~kay my cute cursed ones! This nonsense stops here.

Kate: Victor!

Victor: You two fight the moment I take my eyes off of you. Bad, I say. Bad!

Alfons/Roger: It’s Roger’s fault./It’s Al’s fault.

Victor: I’m not blaming anyone. I don’t mind the contest, okay? However, I don’t like negative games where the other dies from poison and things like that. I can’t afford to lose either of you. That’s not cute at all.

Kate: ……Not cute?

Victor: So here’s my proposal. Remember my friend, Viscount Morris?

Alfons: He’s the rich eccentric who owns a luxury cruise ship.

Victor: Yes, yes. The viscount’s beloved niece’s birthday is today. A birthday party will be hosted in one of his estates. The girl in honor has fled. I believe she went out of the country on vacation. 

Alfons: She’s a runaway horse, isn’t she? Perhaps a consequence of being raised like a princess. A pity.

Victor: The viscount came to me in tears, so I considered going as her double…

Roger: If the lady suddenly became huge and burly, that’d make a failure of a party.

Victor: Therefore, Kate. I want you to pretend to be the lady.

Kate: I knew this was where the story was going.

Victor: Haha, you’re becoming more like Crown! So, Alfons, Roger, I want you two to serve as Kate’s caretakers so that she doesn’t get exposed.

Roger: But what’s that gotta do with our contest?

Victor: Hm, that’s actually a good question! How about you compete for “friendship points” while acting as caretakers?

Kate:  What are “friendship points”?

Victor: Simple. You get a point if you’re friendly to the other. Oh, and the judge is Kate of course.

Roger: So the winner’s the one with the most points and gets Kate’s chocolates.

The proposal was completely unexpected, but it sounds like a good way for the two to get along.

Kate: I think it’s a good idea. I’ll also help the viscount.

Roger: If the little lady’s fine with it, then I’m game. Besides, it sounds like we’re gonna get kicked because of this pointless fight.

Alfons: I feel as if I’m being forced into something troublesome, but I’m fine with it. I’d also like to put an end to this pointless fight. Well… She and the chocolate will ultimately be mine.

Roger: You sure? I take what I want. You ready for that?

Alfons and Roger looked at me, and I blink in return.

Alfons, in an overly gentlemanly manner, shook Roger’s hand.

Alfons: Let’s have a fair, “friendly” match, Roger.

Kate: Ah. That’s one friendship point for you, Alfons!

Roger: What? Damn it, that was dirty.

Alfons wipes his hand, which had touched Roger’s, with a handkerchief.

Alfons: There’s nothing clean or dirty in this contest, is there Miss Kate?

Victor: Mhmm, it’s charming how they’re becoming fast friends. Fabulous!

[tiramissyoucake]

My Sister’s Best Friend Is a Total Smokeshow(?!)

MINORS+AGELESS BLOGS DNI, Hyoma Chigiri X Reader, all characters are 18+, Reader is chigiri’s older sister’s best friend, Reader is female, middle school chigiri mentioned a few times but no focus on it, theres not enough info on chigiri’s sister, 2k words

CW: NSFW, penetration, creampie, chigiri and reader fuck in chigiri’s childhood bedroom, tiddy sucking, clothed sex, no proof reading

Notes: no words shawty I wanna go to bed and read and play video games and write like theres so many things I wanna do and all I end up doing is sleeping aLSO I ACCIDENTALLY GOT LUOCHA WHILE TRYING TO BUILD PITY FOR BLADE WTHHHHH I WASNT EVEN GUARANTEED

The first time Chigiri saw you was when he was in middle school, he came home and heard chatter coming from his sister’s room, curiosity got the best of him although he still had the decency to knock first.

“Oh! Hyoma, Welcome home! (Name), this is my little brother.” His sister introduced, you were sitting next to her on her bed more upright as she was more relaxed, you smiled and nodded in acknowledgment to him.

“It’s good to meet you! Your sister’s told me a lot about you!” Maybe it was the hormones that came with his age but the younger Chigiri thought you were really pretty, his body followed orders like a robot to seem natural in front of you; he returned the nod, introduced himself and quickly excused himself, apologizing and closing the door to give his sister and you your privacy.

When you left, his sister waved bye to you at the front door and he stood behind her quietly before he let out a surprised noise when you waved bye to him as well, his sister wrote it off as puberty and that he would’ve acted like this towards any older girl. Immediately after she shut the door he bombarded her with questions: “what did you guys talk about?” “What did you tell her about me?”

After he calmed down, he found out that your family actually recently moved into the neighborhood and you met both his mother and his sister when you came by to introduce yourself, when he wasn’t home.

Slowly, as Chigiri grew older and as you visited more often, he would become more comfortable with you although there was a line he couldn’t cross due to the age gap (you being his sister’s age) and certain unspoken rules relating to siblings and friends:

1. Chigiri is only allowed to know surface level information about you

2. Chigiri was not allowed to befriend you on the same level as his sibling’s

3. If Chigiri wanted to gift you something, he’d have to do it through his sister

4. Chigiri was utterly positively definitely absolutely completely NOT ALLOWED to romance you in any way, shape or form.

He knew his sister wouldn’t have minded him getting chummy with you but he had a nagging feeling that it would still be awkward, the rules seemed extreme to outsiders however in his mind he knew that he needed to keep to these rules to avoid hostility, awkwardness or misunderstandings.

It was enough you were the center interest during Chigiri’s ‘girl-crazy’ phase, even as he grew out of it he found himself still thinking of nights where he thought of you in a romantic light.

Slowly Chigiri had forgotten about you during his time at Blue Lock’s institution, he focused on bettering himself in all aspects to achieve his dream, although deep down he couldn’t help but indulge in the nagging feeling that he wanted to see you again.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Life was going great after blue lock, with all his football achievements Chigiri barely had time to visit his family between tours although he made sure to stay in contact any way he could; letters, texting, sending gifts, long video calls.

As his career progressed Chigiri developed a certain talent for planning, the calendar app became one of his most frequented apps on his phone and he would sometimes write down potential dates he could use to go visit his family on any surface available be it a napkin, scrap paper and even the back of a receipt.

Finally all his rapid planning paid off, he managed to get two free weeks all to himself (one of those two weeks were labeled under ‘rest - doctor’s orders’).

An excited giddy feeling filled Chigiri’s chest as his taxi neared his home, the familiar scenery invoking a sense of nostalgia as the car slowed and arrived at his destination, his family’s house.

He bid the driver goodbye and paid his expenses, approaching the door he was a bit unsure of how to go about his return, should he knock on the door? Ring the doorbell? Was he allowed to barge in? He knew his mother kept a spare key under the mat. He settled for ringing the doorbell and he didn’t have to wait long until the door swung open, and his dear sister greeted him with a bone crushing hug.

“Hyoma!! Mom! Hyoma’s here!!” he could hear his mother yell out ‘Hyoma’s here?!’ and he returned the hug to the best of his abilities, patting her back with a strained hand.

“Good to see you too, sis...! could you let go...?” She let go and finally allowed him to breathe properly, frowning a bit she dragged him inside “we don’t see you for months and now you don’t want to hug your big sister anymore?” she teased, Chigiri rolled his eyes at his sister’s drama as he hugged his mother, she happily welcomed him home.

He noticed from the corner of his eye someone else was here, a figure in the kitchen.

“Hey (Name)! guess who decided to pay us a visit too!”

His heart throbbed in his chest, theres no way she meant…? No, its probably a different person with your name! you’re probably busy with your own responsibilities somewhere else

“Hyoma..? oh, welcome home! I wouldn’t have visited if I knew you were coming!” he saw you move out the kitchen and attempt to reach for your coat, his sister stopped you and led you over to him.

“oh hush, if anything it was probably fate! Hyoma, you remember (Name), right?”

For a moment, he forgot he was supposed to answer, he stuttered and tried mustering the smoothest answer he could “How could I forget? You and sis are always together!”

A flustered laugh escaped you and he had to mentally smack himself to focus and not turn into a smitten maiden, just as everyone else in the house gave him a ‘welcome home’ hug, he accepted yours (after his sister insisted that you two were well beyond a handshake.)

Chigiri was certain he would be fine if he saw you again now that he was older and more mature of his feelings, yet as he stood in his family’s home, in front of you, he felt like he was transported back in time turning into that shy teenager who wanted your attention more than anything else.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Guilt wracked Chigiri’s entire being, one moment he was showing you around his childhood bedroom when you made a casual comment about never seeing it, the moment he offered he wanted to throw himself out the nearest window in embarrassment.

Yet a small part of him was ecstatic he offered, otherwise his tongue wouldn’t be in your mouth right now as he muffled your noises caused by his wandering hands, Chigiri felt disgusted with his behavior; making out with his sister’s best friend as his family was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

Everytime you tried speaking through kisses, he would either smother your lips with another or he would cut you off by admitting how much he desired you, the perverted thoughts that plagued him once now resurfacing.

“Hyoma-“

“you’re so pretty like this, y’know?” his voice came out in a hushed whisper wanting no one but you to hear him, “I’ve always had feelings for you.” It felt so good to say it to you.

Your body responded to his advances, squirming or moaning into his kisses as quietly as you could, Chigiri slide his hand beneath your shirt sliding upwards until it reached your breasts, his fingers pinched at your nipples and prodded at the soft flesh squeezing as if trying to memorize the shape of your body in his hands.

“you’re driving me crazy.” He mumbled desperately after separating from a particularly wet kiss, a thin string of saliva connected your lips before splitting and disappearing “Can I fuck you? Please? I promise I’ll be quick..”

His question made you more flustered than you already were, you always knew Chigiri as your best friend’s shy and reserved brother, hearing him say such vulgarities felt foreign to your ears. Yet you found yourself hesitantly nodding “Okay.. but we have to be quiet..!”

Pinning you down to his bed he shoved your shirt above your chest to give him easy access, Chigiri rolled up your long skirt running his hands over the skin of your legs and thighs enjoying the way you shivered under his touch.

He knew you two needed to be quick so he couldn’t be bothered to remove your panties, only pulling them aside and giving a few testing strokes to your wet slit. He felt his cock throb as your arousal coated his fingers, he kissed you once more as you held back a moan.

“so wet, this is all for me, yeah?” he whispered harshly and chuckled as you tried catching your breath from his sudden boldness, hurriedly undoing his pants he couldn’t help but sigh in relief as he pulled his cock out of its confinement. Quickly positioning himself and pushing in he covered your mouth the moment he saw your lips part, he only let out a short hiss and bit down his bottom lip as to not groan loudly at the feeling of your cunt sucking him in.

The combination of his precum and your arousal allowed him to push in easily, he grunted as he bottomed out inside you, if only he this wasn’t such a risky place for him to fuck you he would have praised you for taking him so well.

Chigiri leaned down and kissed you deeply once more as he moved his hips back and forth in short quick thrusts, he set a goal to fuck you as good as he could with as minimal noise as possible, as much as he wanted to hear you scream his name he had to settle for the wet smacking his tongue would produce with yours as he kissed you deeply.

The idea made his cock jump in excitement, you moaning his name, not his family name, he only ever had the pleasure of you calling him by his first name if his sister was around as to not induce any confusion.

You always called out to him so innocently, always a simple lovely ‘Hyoma!’, what he wouldn’t give to hear you moan it like a desperate little slut.

He panted between kisses as he sped up his pace, feeling your heat hug him so deliciously, he could feel you tightening. Lowering his head to your breast he sucked harshly at one of your nipples producing a noise, he would have worried if he wasn’t lost in the pleasure of you running a hand through his hair and locking your legs around his waist, Chigiri could practically feel his brain short circuiting over how blissed out he felt fucking you.

As you tried recovering from the incoming oversensitivity, Chigiri nuzzled into your chest as he thrusted as deep as he could muffling his moans into your torso as he felt your pussy practically coax him into finishing inside, a shiver racked through him as he stilled his hips and grunted loudly feeling his cum fill you, warmth spreading deep inside you and he mentally cursed himself as he felt a few drops leak out.

“Hyoma.. you came lots..” he heard you whisper between pants, looking up at your flushed face he practically felt his heart shoot up to his throat, you looked so cute it was making him want to ditch dinner and give you a hotel keycard.

“Yeah… sorry..” and yet he didn’t move, he kept his cock nestled deep inside you even as he heard knocking at his closed door.

“Hyoma? (Name)? Dinner’s ready! What’re you two doing?”

“… just showing (Name) some of my old trading cards! We’ll be right there!” Chigiri quickly excused as he sat up, he had to hold back the smile on his face after seeing the look of embarrassment on yours.

With a groan, Chigiri’s sister left not wanting to hear more about the same cards her brother had been ranting to her about for years. Just as you sat up and made yourself decent, you felt him lean over you once more planting one last kiss on your lips.

“You called me ‘Hyoma’ that time..”

rule 4 of Chigiri's 'How to Interact With Your Sibling's Best Friend' manual™ was definitely broken.

[gofishygo]

ur former-butcher-now-sas!simon and baker!reader made me smile so much it hurts i hope nothing bad happens to them…… 🥲

me too tbh .., the current thing i have planned for them is mostly hurt/comfort ab how simon n reader have changed and their unspoken feelings , so neither of them will die (hopefully), dw !! and for the most part, i originally intended it to be a standalone, so the ending is still quite open. but i can guarantee that a continuation will most likely just be wholesome stuff 饿啊啊啊

(keep in mind if there is to be a series released, it will take a few months ! although i am happy to do it, i do not have very many ideas yet, and am drowning in work, so please be patient. sorry) post i was referencing

[nightwriter357]

Are you just playing with me? - Day 6

It's time for day 6 of this Damien x reader series, where things are heating up just in time for Ian's surprise party! This chapter marks the second-to-last installment of this steamy series. As you probably know by now, this content is 18+ and contains explicit smut. Thank you so much for your support, you have made this journey unforgettable—let's make Day 6 one to remember!

Morning

The day buzzed with activity as the group converged on the venue to prepare for Ian's surprise party. The space ready for its transformation into a festive wonderland. Damien and you arrived alongside the housemates, toting boxes brimming with decorations and supplies.

"Alright, team," Courtney rallied, taking charge. "We've got plenty to do and not much time. Let's dive in!"

Everyone swiftly dove into their assigned tasks. Amanda and Spencer began hanging streamers and balloons, while Shayne and Courtney meticulously arranged food and drink stations. Angela and Chanse tackled the sound system, ensuring the playlist would keep spirits high.

Damien and you found yourselves amid the centerpieces and table decorations, working side by side. The air crackled with anticipation as you both transformed the venue into Ian's dream party. Damien's presence beside you was magnetic, each touch and glance imbued with unspoken desire and shared mischief.

As you adjusted a floral arrangement, your eyes caught sight of the surprise banner you had brought in—the very same one that had witnessed your passionate moment with Damien in the kitchen the other day. You picked it up, feeling a mischievous grin spread across your face.

Glancing over at Damien, you held up the banner with a suggestive smile. "You surprised me that morning, you know," you teased, your voice laced with playful intrigue.

His gaze flickered to the banner, then back to you with a knowing smirk. "Oh, you haven't seen anything yet,"

"I didn't know you had that in you." You said, your eyes fixated on his crotch.

Damien replied, his tone low and confident. "Oh honey, you're the one who had that in you"

You walked closer to him, the banner still in your hands. "I look forward to having it in me again" you murmured, your voice dropping to a seductive murmur. "Maybe we should find a quieter spot later. You know, to reminisce about old times."

Damien’s expression softened, his eyes locking with yours in silent agreement. "That sounds like a perfect plan," he whispered back, his voice tinged with anticipation.

The intimate tension between you two simmered beneath the surface, electrifying the air as you worked amidst the bustling room. Every stolen touch and shared moment carried a promise of something deeper, not touching him was torture but you couldn't when everybody else was here.

You continued your task, adorning the tables with exquisite floral arrangements and personalized name cards. Stealing fleeting moments, Damien's hand subtly found the small of your back, or your fingers would brush against his arm.

“Remember when Spencer caught us in the bedroom?” Damien chuckled, hanging the banner with you.

You giggled softly. “Yeah, and now we owe him a favor. Wonder what he'll ask of us.”

“Maybe he’ll demand we dress as clowns and perform at a kid’s birthday party,” Damien joked, earning a laugh from you.

“Or perhaps we’ll be his personal chefs for a week,” you added with a grin.

You went into a closet looking for more supplies, continuing your guesses.

You tilted your head, pretending to ponder the idea. "Imagine us trying to cook anything other than instant noodles."

He laughed softly. "Disaster in the kitchen, guaranteed."

You gave him a knowing look, "maybe he’ll have us serve him breakfast in bed every day for a year," you quipped, smirking.

Damien’s eyes twinkled mischievously. "Or maybe he’s plotting to make us re-clean the kitchen," he added, his voice low and teasing.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Knowing Spencer, he’s probably got something wilder up his sleeve."

Damien leaned in closer, his gaze lingering on yours with a mixture of amusement and desire. "Maybe he's gonna ask us to do this," he murmured, closing the distance between you and pressing his lips against yours in a brief, tantalizing kiss.

Just as the moment between you two deepened, Spencer’s voice cut through the air with theatrical timing. "Ahem! I hate to interrupt the lovebirds, again, but we have work to do!"

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't suppress your smile. “Sure thing, Spencer!”

You and Damien pulled apart with sheepish grins, stealing one last glance at each other before heading back out.

As the day progressed, the cast and crew members who weren't staying at the house arrived in a lively group. They entered with laughter and enthusiasm.

“Hey, everyone!” Olivia greeted everyone cheerfully. “Ready to kick off this party?” she blew a whistle she had around her neck

“You better believe we are!” Tommy chimed in eagerly. “We brought reinforcements and supplies.”

Amanda nudged Shayne, "are they already drunk?"

Arasha came in, clearly carrying the heaviest decorations, "Yes".

“Perfect timing,” Courtney remarked, directing them to various tasks. “We can use all the help we can get.”

Amidst Angela and Chanse's playful banter over the sound system, Chance berated her and they made funny faces at each other, drawing laughter from the group.

“Shayne, set up the photo booth,” Courtney reminded him. “Ian’s going to be so horny for it”

“You're something else” Shayne answered, while giving a thumbs-up.

As preparations continued, Damien and you seized every opportunity to remain close. While hanging the fairy lights, Damien positioned right behind you, his chest subtly brushing against your back, sending a tingling warmth through you. Leaning back, you savored the fleeting intimacy, relishing the closeness between you.

"Need any help?" Damien murmured softly, his breath teasing your neck, his voice laced with a hint of playfulness and desire.

"I might," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness as you turned slightly to face him. " Don't wander off too far."

He chuckled, a low, seductive sound that resonated deep within you. "Wouldn't dream of it," he whispered, his hand lightly grazing your waist before settling there, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. Your heart raced as Damien's fingers traced a gentle path along your back, igniting a familiar desire within you. The air around you seemed permanently charged with unspoken longing, the anticipation between you palpable and undeniable. Lost in the moment, you turned around and leaned closer to him, the magnetic pull between you drawing you in.

Just as Damien's lips were about to brush against yours again, a sudden voice shattered the intimate bubble. "Hey, guys!" Shayne's cheerful voice interrupted, causing both of you to startle and pull apart abruptly.

You and Damien exchanged quick, guilty glances, trying to gather your composure. "Oh, hey Shayne," you said, your voice a touch too high-pitched, betraying your attempt at nonchalance.

Shayne arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he glanced between you and Damien. "Am I interrupting something, again?" he asked, his tone teasing.

Damien quickly jumped in, flashing Shayne a charming grin. "Nah, just discussing... uh... the best way to arrange these lights," he improvised, gesturing awkwardly to the fairy lights in your hands.

"Yeah, exactly," you chimed in quickly, trying to cover up your flushed cheeks with a casual smile. "We were just figuring out the placement.. it's very important."

Shayne chuckled softly, clearly amused by your flustered response. "Right, sure," he replied, his tone light-hearted. "Well, carry on then. Don't let me disturb your... lighting strategy."

You and Damien exchanged a relieved glance as Shayne walked away, his laughter fading in the background. Once he was out of earshot, you both let out a nervous laugh, the tension from the close call dissipating.

"That was close," Damien remarked, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah," you agreed, feeling a rush of adrenaline mixed with lingering desire. "We'll have to be more careful."

Damien grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Or less careful," he suggested, his voice low and suggestive.

The venue neared completion, with final touches in place, anticipation buzzed through the air. Courtney gathered all the house mates for a final briefing. "Great job this today guys. Tonight is all about Ian of course but also, remember, this is the last night of the emotion game. Don't hold back with your assigned feelings and people, really try to play it up tonight. Tomorrow we'll reveal everything, so let's make tonight count!"

Shayne chimed in with a smirk, "Some of us have been overdoing it since day one," he teased, glancing pointedly at you and Damien. The room erupted in laughter, and you felt your cheeks flush.

You found yourself standing beside Damien once more. He gently took your hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Excited for tonight?” Damien asked softly.

“Absolutely,” you replied, returning the squeeze. “Let’s make it unforgettable.”

The day had flown by in a whirlwind of activity. With everything set, you were eager to surprise Ian and even more eager for what might happen between you and Damien tonight.

Evening

The evening sky was painted in hues of orange and pink as the Smosh cast and crew gathered at the venue, eagerly awaiting Ian's arrival. The decorations were perfect, with fairy lights casting a warm glow, streamers and balloons adding a festive touch, and of course a large "surprise" banner taking center stage.

Excitement buzzed through the air as the moment grew closer. The cast and crew positioned themselves strategically around the room, ready to spring the surprise. You could hear Anthony leading Ian toward the entrance, his voice carrying easily through the door. "I promise, Ian, this dinner will be worth our time." Ian, sounded skeptical but still followed Anthony inside. As soon as he stepped through the door, the room erupted.

"Surprise!" the room exploded with cheers and laughter. Confetti cannons burst, showering Ian in a colorful flurry.

Ian's face lit up with a broad smile. "Oh my god, you guys! This is amazing!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with delight.

"Happy birthday, Ian!" Amanda shouted, waving enthusiastically.

"You're not getting older, just more awesome!" Shayne added, his voice carrying above the din.

"Speech! Speech!" Angela and Chanse chanted in unison, prompting everyone else to join in.

Ian, clearly overwhelmed, raised his hands to quiet everyone down. "Thank you so much, everyone. This is incredible. I have the best freaking team in the world."

As the applause and cheers died down, the party truly began. Music played, people danced, and the room buzzed with conversations and laughter. Amidst the festivities, Spencer made his way over to you and Damien, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hey, you two," he called, pulling you aside.

"What’s up, Spencer?" Damien asked, curiosity piqued.

Spencer grinned. "Remember that favor you owe me?" He was once again using his detective voice.

You exchanged a quick glance with Damien, both of you nodding. "Yeah, we remember," you replied.

"Well, I’m cashing it in now. I want you two to figure out everyone’s assigned names and emotions from the emotion game. Think of it as a little undercover mission," Spencer said, clearly relishing the challenge he was setting.

Damien raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's what you want us to do?"

Spencer nodded, his grin widening. "Yep. You've got the rest of the night to gather intel, consider it tonight's game. Good luck."

With a sigh and a shared smile, you and Damien accepted the challenge. "Alright, let’s do this, I guess," you said, determination sparking in your eyes.

You both mingled with the crowd, keeping your ears open and eyes sharp. The first stop was Angela and Chanse, who were by the DJ booth, arguing playfully over the next song.

"You two seem to be having fun," Damien remarked, slipping into the conversation.

Chanse laughed. "Just trying to keep the vibe going. But this girl keeps asking for some shitty ass songs."

Angela rolled her eyes. "He thinks he's a music guru.

Chase sighed at Angela " I AM a music guru" you could sense him almost breaking, "and I've always said that"

Angela acted shocked, "Anyway, how’s the night treating you two?"

"Great so far," you replied, subtly observing their interactions. Chance’s annoyance seemed a bit more theatrical than sincere as Angela persisted in her, his brows furrowing every time she adjusted the playlist. You were shore this display was Chanse's way to show "anger" towards Angela. You filed the thought away for later.

Next, you and Damien found yourselves at the snack table with Shayne and Amanda. They were engaged in a spirited debate over the best type of chips.

"Salt and vinegar all the way," Shayne declared, popping a chip into his mouth.

Amanda shook her head vehemently. "No way, sour cream and onion is superior."

Shayne looked up with tears in his eyes, "why would you even say that?".

Damien chuckled. "You guys take your snacks seriously."

Amanda grinned. "You bet we do. Gotta have strong opinions on the important stuff."

Shayne pleased his head in his hand av yelping sound came out of his mouth. You exchanged a glance with Damien. So Shayne has sad and Amanda

Moving on, you and Damien encountered Amanda again, this time chatting with Spencer. You watched as Amanda gently brushed her hand against Spencer's arm, her gaze lingering on him a moment too long.

"You know, Spencer," Amanda said with a soft smile, "you did an amazing job organizing all this. Ian's so so happy and it's all because of you."

Spencer looked slightly taken aback by her tenderness, "thanks Amanda, but you know Courtney planned this right?"

Damien leaned in close to you, whispering, "Looks like Amanda's been given 'love' towards Spencer." You nodded in agreement, watching their interaction closely.

The night continued with more dancing, games, and heartfelt toasts to Ian. You and Damien subtly gathered clues, piecing together the puzzle of the emotion game. Each interaction brought you closer to deciphering who had which emotions and whom they were assigned to.

"Alright," you whispered to Damien during a quiet moment, "let’s see if we can piece some of this together."

Damien nodded, glancing around. "Okay, so Chanse was definitely angry towards Angela. That one's clear."

"And Shayne's sadness around Amanda was pretty obvious," you added, feeling more confident. "And Amanda was definitely showing love towards Spencer."

Damien grinned. "Do you know what Courtney has tho, cause I have no clue?"

You laughed softly. "Yeah, She has angry at Chance"

Damien tilted his head, "how can you be so sure?"

You tilted your head to match his "Well, she kind of told me when we traded notes"

He gasped, " You traded notes, why?"

"Well" you pulled him into a corner to get out of everybodys line of sight. " I didn't think I could be 'angry at Damien for a week" your finger dragged over his chest " so I traded it fo-, you know what I traded it for" you looked up at him, smiling devilishly.

He swallowed, " So you cheated, huh?" He pulled you closer. " You just wanted to act out your true feelings in the open?"

"Oh shut up and fuck me"

He led you into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. He pushed you up the wall, his breath hot against your neck, " I can't take my time with you this time, pretty girl" He pushed a finger into you and you screamed out. "Ssh" he placed a finger over your mouth. " You need to be much quieter than that baby" he started pumping his finger inside of you, "can't have you act this way of one finger"

You licked his finger, "I'm sorry Damien, I won't make another sound, you smiled at him, knowing you were lying.

He bent you over the sink and pulled your hair to tilt your head up. "That's it baby", you were facing the mirror, "show me that pretty face". You watched yourself in the mirror as he pushed all of himself into you, "oh my god Damien, yes, fucking please" your mouth widened and you eyes fluttered.

"What did I tell you?", He asked, making eye contact with you in the mirror" He hadn't moved yet, your pussy was clenching around his length, but he didn't move.

"Damien, please fuck me, please" you started fucking yourself on him letting out small moans.

" You really think your gonna be able to cum like that, honey?" His eyes still on yours ", What did I tell you?"

"Be quiet" you answered, still moving yourself forward and back on his cock, " but I can't"

"Why?"

You composed yourself "Because I can't cum without saying your name, I've done it every time I've touched myself, in my room with just a wall separating us, In the bathroom at work when you've made me extra frustrated and at home when I wake up from dreams about you"

His eyes darkened again and you knew you were going to get everything you wanted. He cover your mouth hard pressing your head back against his body, his other hand finding its way to your clit, massaging it. Your hand slipped on the sink and you had to hold on for dear life as he finally started trusting into you.

" oh fuck y/n, you know just the right this to say to make me go fucking crazy"

His thrusts became hungrier and deeper as he could feel you moaning, screaming against his hand. His cock hit a spot in you that made you growl in pain, but he couldn't hear it. You looked at him in the mirror and the sight of him almost made you cum right there. His silver hair slicked against his forehead, His hands and arms wrapped around your body now only half covered by your sliding dress. His eyes took in every part of you, your exposed breast bouncing with every thrust, your face, half of it covered by his big hands. He could see it in your eyes though, you were close.

Your screams became louder, he removed his hand to let you speak. "L-let me suck your fingers while you cum in me. Fill my pussy up and let me walk around tonight with it seeping out of me".

You felt his cock twitch inside of you. "Are you sure?"

"Yes Damien, it's safe I promise, let me have it please"

He stuck his fingers into your mouth as he started pumping hard into your pussy again. His fingers matching each thrust. You let your tongue play with his fingers, imagining you had his cock in both you mouth and cunt at the same time. You struggled to gold yourself up on your trembling legs and hands that couldn't find a solid place to hold on to. With one final thrust his load spilled out inside of you. "Stay" you said, making sure he filled you all the way before pulling out.

You breathed heavily together, him still inside of you, you let out a final moan as he exited you. He turned you around, kissing you on your forehead, "you are making me crazy, you know that right?", he brushed your hair away from your face. You smirked up at him ", you're one to talk".

You glanced around the room ", my panties?"

"Which ones" he smirked back at you before bending over to pick them up from the floor.

As he handed them to you, you put them on, " I can't just drip all over the floor you know?"

Before you went back out you had to feel the warmth of his skin, he has stayed fully dressed after all. You let your hands slip in under his shirt as you hugged him, stroking him across his back. You could feel the scratches on his back that you left there yesterday morning. Before heading out you adjusted yourself In front of the mirror, your makeup was running and your hair was a mess, but it could all be from partying you told yourself. You kissed him again before sneaking out of the bathroom.

You and Damien spotted Angela fussing over Courtney near the photo booth. Angela's attentiveness was overly affectionate, adjusting Courtney’s hair with exaggerated care.

“You look perfect already, Courtney,” Angela cooed, eyes twinkling. “But maybe just a bit more volume here…” she smällt her hair.

Courtney laughed, trying to bat Angela’s hands away. “Angela, it’s fine. We’re just taking photos.”

“But you deserve to look like a star,” Angela insisted, her expression dreamy.

You stifled a laugh, nudging Damien. “I think we figured Angelas notes out”

Angela admired Courtney from head to toe with an exaggerated sigh. “Courtney, you have such a natural glow. It’s like you’re always walking in sunlight.”

You had to turn away to hide your laughter. Damien chuckled, shaking his head. “Angela’s really going all out with this.”

Angela grabbed Courtney’s hand. “We should get a photo together. It’ll be a memory I can treasure forever.”

Courtney, clearly unsure how to respond, nodded hesitantly. “Sure, Angela. Let’s take a picture.”

As they posed, Angela wrapped an arm around Courtney’s waist, gazing at her with unabashed admiration.

You and Damien exchanged knowing looks, struggling to keep straight faces.

“Yep, definitely in love,” Damien whispered.

Finally, Courtney gently extricated herself. “Thanks for the photo, Angela. It was fun.”

Angela sighed dreamily. “Anytime, Courtney. Anytime.”

You and Damien stepped away, both of you chuckling. “Well, that was something,” you said, still smiling.

“Yeah,” Damien agreed. “Angela’s really committed to her role.”

“Almost feel bad for Courtney,” you replied, laughing. “Almost.”

With Angela’s comical display of affection towards Courtney, another piece of the emotion game puzzle fell into place. As you and Damien shared a quiet laugh, Spencer approached with a knowing grin. “Alright, lovebirds, time to check in. What have you figured out?”

You glanced at Damien, then back at Spencer. “Well, we’ve got Shayne dad to Amanda.

Spencer nodded. “Pegged you say? makes sense. What else?”

“We’ve seen Amanda showing love towards you,” Damien added. “She’s been extra sweet, making sure you’re taken care of.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Spencer replied, smirking.

You continued, " Lets see, Chanse has angry at Angela, Courtney has angry at Chanse and Angela of course has in-love with Courtney, it’s pretty obvious from how she’s been acting."

Spencer gave you a nod of approval, “and just to be clear, you both have horny and each other’s names, right?”

Damien chuckled, shaking his head. “Actually, no. I have ‘in love.’”

You felt a sudden pang of doubt, your heart sinking. “Wait... Are you just playing with me?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Damien turned to you, his expression earnest. “No, I’m not. My person is Shayne.” He looked back at Spencer. “I feel like I made it very clear, no?”

Spencers eyes widened in surprise, then he laughed. “Yeah you really did. You were awfully attentive.”

You exhaled, relief washing over you. “So, you weren’t pretending with me?”

Damien took your hand, squeezing it gently. “Not for a second.”

Spencer grinned, clapping his hands. “Great work, agents. Your secret is safe with me.. for now.

The evening was in full swing, with the room filled with laughter, music, and the buzz of excited conversations. Everyone was having a great time, enjoying the ambiance created by the decorations and the surprise element of Ian's party.

Anthony stood up, a glass in hand, signaling for attention. The chatter died down as everyone turned to listen. "Everyone, can I have your attention, please?" Anthony began, a wide grin on his face. "First of all, thank you all for coming together to make this happen. It's been a blast working with you all to surprise Ian. And to Ian," he turned to his friend, "it's great to be back and see how everything's grown. I must admit, I missed you, and you're even more submissive and breedable than I remembered"

The room erupted in laughter and cheers, Ian chuckling good-naturedly as he raised his glass in acknowledgment.

"As we all know, Ian has a way of making us laugh and keeping us on our toes," Anthony continued. "Whether it's through his antics or his ideas, he's always been the heartbeat of this channel. So here's to many more adventures, and hopefully, a little less disappearing on my part."

A chorus of "hear, hear!" and applause followed Anthony's speech, and Ian got up to hug his friend. "Thanks, Anthony. And thanks to everyone here. You all mean the world to me."

As the group settled back into the festivities, you felt Damien's cum leaking from you, a constant reminder of your earlier intimacy. It was both thrilling and distracting. You caught Damien's eye, and he gave you a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

Damien's face flushed, his eyes darkening with desire and shock. You gave him a sly smile, enjoying the power you had over him in that moment.

Taking advantage of a moment when everyone was focused on the speeches and laughter, you subtly slipped a hand under your dress. You could feel the dampness on your panties, and a wicked idea formed in your mind. You dragged a finger along the fabric, collecting some of the cum. Damien's eyes widened, watching you intently as you brought your finger to your lips and licked it clean, a slow, deliberate action that made his breath hitch. The intensity of your silent exchange was broken by the laughter and chatter of the rest of the cast.

Anthony and Ian were discussing the bizarre behavior of their friends. "Is it just me, or is everyone acting a bit... off?" Anthony remarked, eyebrow raised.

Ian chuckled. "Yeah, it's like they're all in some weird improv exercise."

Just then, Trevor, looking bewildered, joined the conversation. "Are all Smosh parties like this? This feels like some next-level chaos."

Courtney, overhearing, laughed and replied, "Oh, trust me, Trevor, there's definitely something different about this one."

In the midst of this, Amanda was overdramatically consoling Shayne, who was feigning exaggerated sadness. "Amanda, I just feel so... blue," he said, mock tears streaming down his face.

Angela was fluttering around Courtney, making heart eyes and constantly offering to help with anything, her actions overly sweet and clingy. "Courtney, do you need anything? Water? A snack? A massage?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

Chanse, meanwhile, was engaged in a comically heated argument with Angela over the placement of a snack tray, his face contorted in mock anger. "I swear, Angela, if you move those chips one more time, I'll lose it!"

Spencer, who had been observing everyone with a smirk, turned to you and Damien. "I see you two are still glued together," he teased. The rest of the group looked over to you questioning.

You grinned, taking the opportunity to make Damien squirm a little. "Well, we've had so much fun, I can practically feel the fun seeping out of me."

Damien's eyes widened, his face flushing as he understood the deeper meaning behind your words.

"So have you guys been decorating all day" in asked adjusting the birthday hah on his head.

"Oh yeah, Damien has been assisting me but I've been carrying his load," you added, shooting a mischievous glance at Damien.

Damien coughed, trying to cover his surprise. "Yeah, I've been a big help," he said, voice strained as he forced a smile.

Anthony, catching the tail end of your exchange, shook his head with a chuckle. "You guys are something else."

Ian laughed. "Whatever's going on, it's definitely keeping things interesting."

Trevor, looked around the room, still looking puzzled, asked, " what the hell is going on?"

Courtney, with a sly smile, responded, "Let's just say this week has had its... unique challenges."

As the evening wore on, the party continued in its peculiar, chaotic fashion. Amid the laughter and the outlandish displays of emotion, you and Damien shared private, heated glances, the secret of your earlier encounter adding a thrilling undercurrent to the festivities. Ian stood up, clinking his glass for attention. "Hey, everyone, thanks for coming tonight. It's been a blast. And remember, what happens at Smosh parties stays at Smosh parties... mostly.

"Laughter erupted, with Arasha adding, "okay, dad".

You smiled at Damien hoping that everything that went down tonight, and this week, wouldn't just stay here.

[mountainficss]

mercurial • song mingi

mer·cu·ri·al

/ˌmərˈkyo͝orēəl/

(of a person) subject to sudden or unpredictable changes of mood or mind.

WORD COUNT: 2665

SWITCH!Reader + SWITCH!Mingi

MAFIA BOSS + MAFIA BOSS

WARNINGS: degradation, bondage, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (m. receiving), riding, orgasm denial, pet names/nicknames, brief mentions of a safeword, marking, nipple play

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"What can I do for you, Mr. Song?"

You held back a smirk, holding the unwavering hard gaze of the tall man seated in front of you. He reached a hand up to tighten his jet black tie, his eyes never once leaving yours. You took a long sip of your whiskey, awaiting his response. "I'm here to discuss the casino." You raised your eyebrows, slightly taken aback at his request.

You were one of the most well-known mafia bosses in the city, sharing the same territory with a few other families. Being the head of an infamous mafia family gave you power, and many citizens feared you and your intensity. Multiple shop owners paid you thousands each month for protection, and money continued to flow to you through your surplus of nightclubs and restaurants that you had purchased. Your cunning and manipulative personality had easily made you the most wealthy and respected boss in the city, but there was one man that could almost rival you.

Song Mingi was born into the notorious Song family, famous for their drug and weapon imports. They sold to the most vicious criminals, making deals with the worst of the worst for high profit. For years they had almost total control over the area. His father had built a strong reputation over the years for his family, passing down his title and earnings to his son before he passed. Mingi had inherited his father's position as the new mafia boss but did not lack experience and a strong mindset. He was easily more intelligent than his father with double the physical strength and resilience. His grim aura even instilled fear in his men, and he continued to solidify the reputation of his powerful family. You and Mingi's families hadn't crossed paths often and had stayed out of each other's way, establishing a sort of unspoken truce. Therefore when Mingi had reached out to you for a sit-down, you were intrigued by his offer and wondered what this sudden meet-up could concern. The two of you had ended up in the upstairs VIP section of one of your nightclubs, sitting across from each other at a secluded table in the corner of the room.

"Ah, yes. What about the casino?" You questioned slyly, an impish smirk threatening to tug the corners of your mouth. Mingi's dark dragon eyes slightly narrowed at the question, his reaction almost unnoticeable making your chest swell with pride. "I'd like to make a deal for it." He answers simply, watching you swirl around the ice in your empty cup. Construction for the town's largest casino had begun a few weeks ago, and many families had their eye on it. Gambling was a popular activity, guaranteeing an easy cash grab to whichever family took over the construction first. You had planned on taking over knowing no one could overpower you, but were reconsidering due to Mingi's suggestion. It was unusual for someone like Song Mingi to ever propose a deal or ask for help, and knowing that you were the one to make him break fulfilled you. It was obvious who was the higher power between the two of you. You knew the effect you had on him and planned to abuse your power in every way possible.

"What will you be offering, Mr. Song?" You persisted, witnessing his gaze travel down to his untouched drink, avoiding your eyes. He cleared his throat, doing his best to swallow his pride. "Whatever you're willing to take," he muttered, almost inaudibly. You smiled evilly, feeling satisfied with his sudden transparency. You had never expected to have a man practically begging at your feet, let alone a respected mafia boss. "I'll offer whatever would please you," he mumbles reluctantly, reaching for his whiskey to take a small sip. "Drugs, weapons, goods, I don't mind any of it. Just tell me what you'd like." He rambles slightly, becoming flustered due to his abrupt proposal. You were unpredictable and he knew that, slowly beginning to regret his offers. He wondered if control over the casino was worth laying all his cards on the table for someone so dangerously incalculable. He set aside his doubts for now, remembering that control over the casino would be a large cash advantage for his family. He was smart enough to know who had the upper hand, and there was no going back now. The deal was already sealed.

"There's an alcohol shipment coming tomorrow that's scheduled to travel to a neighboring bar. Just pay off the truck driver and have it sent to this nightclub instead," you replied nonchalantly, tapping the side of your glass indifferently. Mingi looked up quickly to scan your expression, his stomach dropping as he attempted to hide his shock. That's it? Something was off, this was entirely too modest. There had to be some kind of catch, there was no possible way the city's most feared mafia boss would be satisfied with one truck's worth of alcohol. "You're smart enough to know that's not all I want," you started as he shifted subtly under your harsh stare. He mentally prepared himself for your games, knowing what you were about to offer him wasn't going to be simple.

"I wanna use you." You stated insouciantly, watching his eyes widen at your shamelessness. "I'm—I'm not sure I completely understand," he began carefully, waiting for you to continue. "Let me play with you and I'll let you have whatever you want, okay? I'll make sure of it," you assured, leaning in closer to the man sitting frozen across from you. He let your sultry tone fill his ears, feeling like prey being hunted by a predator. He almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. No amount of preparation could have ever prepared him for this. He could only ever imagine the plethora of things you were thinking about doing to him. Is everything a twisted game to her? He couldn't help but wonder. He felt sick hearing your end of the deal, but despite his shock he couldn't help the shameless twitch in his pants. Although you had twisted fantasies, Mingi's were just as perverted as yours. He scanned your form sitting across from him, leaning on your forearms as you clasped your glass in between your hands. He could see down your blazer dress, the pinstripes accentuating your curves and making him even more flustered than before. You rose unexpectedly from your seat, turning away from him and facing a long hallway. "Come with me," you commanded firmly, the sound of your stilettos clicking as you made your way through the hallway, motioning for him to follow. He stood immediately after, following behind and reaching up to loosen his tie, feeling his skin heating rapidly. You led him to a private room guarded by two of your men, one of them opening the door for you as you both stepped inside. Mingi's eyes traveled around the dimly lit room, almost flinching as he heard the door close behind him. The room was spacious, with three large couches surrounding a large coffee table in the center. End tables sat at the ends of the couches and there was a small bar in the far corner of the room. Faint red lighting shone through the coffered ceiling above.

You spun around without warning, reaching out to grab Mingi's tie and pulling him closer to you, your bodies almost pressing against each other. "Do we have a deal?" You inquired, eyes looking innocently into Mingi's. He couldn't tear himself from your gaze, watching the way the red lighting danced across the structure of your face, making you look almost otherworldly. He was fully hard now, unable to control the strong desire he felt in the pit of his stomach. Mingi nodded hesitantly, still captivated by your beauty. He had no idea what kind of tricks you might pull, but he was too far gone to refuse your offer. The thought of being used by someone that held so much power was thrilling to him. You pulled him closer, your bodies flush with each other as you leaned in and pressed small kisses onto his neck. You gripped his tie tighter, snaking your free hand down to palm at his erection. "If you change your mind, your word is whiskey, okay?" You mumbled against his skin lightly. "Alright," he sighed gently, his hands reaching around to rest lightly on your waist. You leaned up and pressed your lips against his for a heated kiss, leading him back towards one of the large couches. Your lips detached from his as you made him sit down, his back hitting the back of the couch as he watched you unbutton your dress slowly in front of him. You kicked your heels off, letting your dress hit the ground shortly after as you sat down on his lap, straddling him in only your matching black set of lingerie. Your hands traveled to the collar of his suit jacket, slowly dragging the fabric off of his shoulders and down his arms, discarding it carelessly onto the floor. He watched your every move, frozen in place as if he was caught in a trance. You leaned in and began showering his skin with pecks again, sucking harshly on his neck and eliciting a gasp from Mingi. You began loosening his tie, removing it as your skilled fingers worked to unbutton his shirt. You slid his shirt off and littered kisses down his chest and abdomen, sliding off his lap to unbuckle his belt and slide his pants down. His breath hitched as his pants pooled at his ankles, leaving him in only his boxers. He fidgeted above you, desperately wanting you to free his erection and use him to your liking. You reached for his tie that you had previously discarded, grabbing each of his wrists and placing a kiss on each of them before tying them together above his head. "Keep your hands there and let me make you feel good," you commanded quietly. Mingi nodded slightly, his eyes narrowed in desire. He never thought he would be in this position, wrapped around the fingers of a dangerous young woman in her nightclub's private room. He clenched his fists together as you slowly pulled down his boxers, the cold air hitting his length and making him flinch. A pearl of precum leaked from his tip as you lightly drug your nails up and down his inner thighs in a teasing manner. His heavy breathing only boosted your high ego as you leaned closer to give his length light kitten licks. You placed your hands on his thighs, holding him in place as you unexpectedly took all of him inside your mouth, not giving him time to adjust as you bobbed your head up and down quickly. Low grunts and choked moans slipped through Mingi's lips as he tried his best to hold them back. His body writhed under your hold, his length violently twitching in your mouth as you felt him getting closer to his climax. You gazed up at him, taking in the scene above you. His bonded hands remained above his head, mouth parted slightly in a poor attempt to catch his breath. The way your eyes met his with such an innocent look made him bite his lip, his head falling back onto the back of the couch and almost pushing him over the edge. His moans became louder as you swirled your tongue around his head. "S-Shit," he stuttered, his eyes rolling back as you removed your mouth from him before he could finish. You placed a kiss on his tip, making his body jolt slightly as you teased him.

"I'm not gonna make this easy for you," you chuckled, dragging your nails along the skin of his inner thighs once again. "You're fun to play with." You mused, your signature smirk illuminated by the faint red lighting above. Mingi's eyes were full of lust as he witnessed you strip off your black lingerie, leaving you completely bare in front of him. His eyes traveled up and down your form uncontrollably as more precum oozed from his twitching erection. You rose to straddle him again, his tip touching your slit. You reached down to teasingly stroke him, showering his cheeks and neck with sweet kisses. Small whimpers escaped his throat as you slid down completely onto him, letting out a lewd moan next to his ear. You grabbed his fastened wrists and slid his arms down so you were between them, letting his hands rest on your back. Sweat trickled down his gorgeous face as you circled your hips slowly, savoring the feeling of him stretching you out. He inhaled the scent of your sweet citrus perfume, letting himself become intoxicated and fall apart underneath you. "I never thought you'd be like this, Mingi," you cooed seductively, letting him lean in to rest his head in the crook of your neck and take in your inviting scent. "You're always so serious. I would've never guessed your reactions would be so cute," you grinned, lifting your hips and steadily lowering them down onto his length to envelop him fully again. Your teasing pace caused him to let out a deep moan, attaching his lips to your neck to suck pretty marks onto your skin. You increased your pace, loving the heavenly noises coming from him. "More fun when you give in, isn't it?" You uttered smugly, feeling proud that you could make someone so stern and forbidding fall apart this way. He nodded into your neck, still letting out small moans and grunts as you pleased him. You bounced harshly on his member, the sudden change in speed almost sending Mingi over the edge. "S-Slow down, I'm close," he warned, moaning into your skin.

"That's the point, princess," you panted, not once ceasing your movements. "It feels nice to use my little toy like this," you confessed shamelessly. "Can't believe you're getting off to me degrading you and using you as a plaything. How cute~" You reached a hand to his chest to rub circles onto his nipple with your thumb, making him mewl loudly. You rolled the sensitive bud between your index and thumb, a small yelp escaping his throat as he twitched uncontrollably inside of you. Mingi couldn't take much more of this overwhelming pleasure, feeling like his soul was about to leave his body. "Fuck, it—it's too much," He moaned sinfully, beginning to beg for his release. "P-Please, can I cum?" He asks shakily, trying his best to not finish without your permission. You leaned in to bite the shell of his ear, amused by his weak pleading voice. "You're such a well-behaved toy," you whispered sweetly, the sounds of your sweaty skin colliding filling the room completely. "Cum with me~"

You felt your walls tightening, clenching uncontrollably around his pulsating member as your orgasm enveloped you. He was filling you up perfectly, hitting your sweet spot ruthlessly every time you sank down onto his length. His hips pounded upwards into you, your filthy moans fueling him and bringing him to his climax. He pumped you full of his release, feeling your warmth squeezing his member harshly and completely milking him. Your chests rose and fell quickly as you attempted to recover from your powerful releases. His cute whimpers were like music to your ears, reaching to untie his hands and run your fingers through his hair. You let him cling to you, his member still buried inside of your core. "I like you better like this," you teased mischievously as he let out a breathy chuckle. "I'm—I'm glad we could come to an agreement," he stammers, still holding you close. You snorted, finding his attempted formality entertaining. You placed a chaste kiss onto his neck, making his cheeks flush a bright shade of red. "I hope we can play again sometime, Mr. Song~"

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being upset when excluded from food related to an activity i declined?

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weird title, sorry.

i(15fm) have mixed feelings about leaving the house. i have a relatively low social/'being-away-from-where-i-sleep' battery and my willingness for physical(especially outdoor) activities really just depends on my mood. i'm also involved in some after-school activities (theater tech + debate club + the occasional school event) which can cause plan conflicts and drain my batteries by the time i'm home. for more context, i sometimes walk home for exercise(or just when lacking a ride) and this is a 2 mile trek. (roughly 2 hours + it leaves me a little achy the next day if i walk nonstop)

my family likes to go out for activities all the time: things like taking walks, eating out, and light sports(frisbee, minigolf, swimming). i'm always given an option to come or not, and we have a bit of an unspoken rule where if somebody opts not to come nothing from the activity is guaranteed for them afterward(leftovers, prizes, etc). this is fine and i accept this rule wholeheartedly.

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on this particular occasion, i was aware a few days beforehand that my family planned to play frisbee. i made the choice not to come, then learned that i had tech responsibilities anyway that would 100% interfere with frisbee. i communicated this. once i saw these through my family was already on the way there, which i was prepared for and chose to walk home.

what i wasn't aware of, was that after the activity they went out to eat at a favorite place of ours as a family. the only communication that really took place was me calling my mom when i got out of school(to figure out if i needed to walk), then texting her when i got home safe(which got no response).

when i learned about the food i mentioned that i didn't appreciate it(both the act and the lack of communication), but i tried not to express anger because it's an issue we've had before then had a talk about. my uncle and mom both slightly ribbed me for my saying that, telling me it was my fault i missed out. we came to a compromise where my mom did buy me some fast food to sort of compensate, and while i'm still snacking on those fries i'm not totally *angry* over it but i guess a little frustrated, and want to know if it's still warranted.

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i did mention before, this is an issue that's happened before and been seriously talked about - the family would leave for one activity then end up elsewhere afterwards. i've missed out on, like, 3 separate expensive purchases that my little sisters each got(that i know of), plus the one time they genuinely were the AHs and chose to eat out on the morning of my birthday while i was sleeping in. final tidbit of background that is relevant but i'm genuinely still skeptical about, my dad and older sister both think that i'm treated differently by my mom and her side of the family - that being, they're all step family minus 1 half sister. but i don't remember a time in my life before these people were my family, my mom married in when i was young(+ a lot of adoptions and fostering on that side that suggest non-blood-related family), so i don't think they have any reason to treat me differently.

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AITA?

(can't wait to forget that i submitted then perhaps be jumpscared by an insecurity that's kinda haunted me since that birthday i briefly mentioned)

What are these acronyms?