#we literally have words for shove with an open hand shove with a closed fist poke with a long stick poke with one's finger- when we have so

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 6)

Word count: 2100

Warnings: making out, mommy kink, jealous Agatha

Taglist:@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas @r-3-becca @harknessshi

Before you can open your mouth to respond, she yanks you back into the bathroom you had just come out of. You rip your hand out of her grasp. 

“What – what are you doing here?” You ask, mouth agape. How had she known where you were? Why is she so mad?

She advances on you until your back hits the wall. Fury is radiating from her and you’re more than a little frightened (and kind of turned on). 

“You see me kissing your dad, so what?” She sneers scathingly. “You run and find the first girl you can for a lousy fuck in a bathroom?” 

She keeps coming closer so you put your hand on her shoulder to stop her. “What are you talking about?” You shout exasperatedly. “We didn’t ‘fuck in the bathroom,’ I was upset and she was comforting me!”

“You kissed her,” Agatha says, voice strangely calm. 

“And you kissed my dad! Also, are you fucking stalking me?”

“I followed you to make sure you didn’t do anything rash, because news flash, your father and I are married! I know you don’t want to hear it, darling, but not everything is about you.” 

You grit your teeth. “I know that. But do you? Because every time I even get close to a girl, you basically call me a slut.” 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t acting like one,” she snarls. You fist your hand into the shirt she’s wearing, digging your nails in through the fabric. 

“You know, it’s pretty rich that you’re calling me dramatic for earlier when you’re literally going crazy over the thought of me with someone else.” The air in the room seems to change. It’s the closest either of you have gotten to addressing this thing between you. 

You see Agatha falter for a split second. “That’s not what I’m doing,” she growls. 

“Oh, yeah?” You challenge. “Then what is this? Cause to me, it looks like you’re jealous.” 

The vein in her forehead throbs as she leans in. “You know what this looks like to me? Like a spoiled little girl didn’t get the kind of attention she wanted for one second so she decided to throw a temper tantrum. And now she needs to be taught a lesson.”  

“Fuck off, Agatha.” You let go of her shirt and raise your hands to shove her back but she easily catches them and pins them above your head. 

You inhale sharply, a noise sounding an awful lot like a moan coming out of your mouth. She smirks wickedly, her eyebrow raising. 

“What a naughty girl,” Agatha tuts and embarrassment burns your face. 

“Let go of me,” you say, struggling to get out of her grasp but she holds you tighter. 

“Is this what she did to you when you took her to the bathroom?” 

She’s bringing up Rio again. She clearly has some serious jealousy issues and you wish you didn’t find it so hot, however frustrating it is. “I didn’t have sex with her, for fuck’s sake! I kissed her, yeah, but I was thinking about you the whole time.” The admission stuns you both and her grip around your wrist slackens. But you don’t pull away. You need to see how she’ll react. 

Her eyes drop down your lips, then back up. She leans in closer and you forget how to breathe when she ghosts her lips over your mouth and you find yourself instinctively drawing in an attempt to actually kiss her. 

But she steps away before you can, dropping your hands and letting go. 

“What?” You sigh defeatedly. You’re already tired of this game she keeps playing, the one where she strings you along and makes you think she likes you and then cuts you off. She doesn’t get to be jealous and possessive and then back away after almost kissing you. 

“I’m married to your father,” Agatha says. “I’m your step-mother. I’m over twice your age. We can’t do this.” 

“I don’t care!” You insist, but she shakes her head. Your insides harden and you get a rush of boldness. “Okay, fine. Here we go. I want you, Agatha. I don’t care who you’re married to, or how old you are. Fuck, I like how old you are!” 

She scoffs in disbelief, eyes darting up to meet yours and then to the floor again. 

“So you can either do something about that, or you can let me go back out there and have fun with my friend.” You give her the ultimatum, praying that you didn’t just ruin everything.

For a minute, you think Agatha will change her mind. But then she spins on her heel and walks out of the bathroom. You feel a rush of emotion flood over you, but you shove it down. You got your answer. It’s better you know now. 

“Hey, where have you been?” Rio asks when you finally rejoin her on the dance floor. 

“Ran into someone I knew,” you say evasively. “You wanna get out of here?” She nods eagerly. You give the bar one last look over just to see if there’s any sign of Agatha. 

There isn’t. 

You bite back the disappointment rising in your chest and pull Rio out the door by the hand. 

You’re walking to your car when you see a shadow in the alleyway by the parking lot. You squint your eyes and can make out the trace of a woman. 

Is it her?

Stopping abruptly, you turn to Rio and drag her in for a long kiss, pushing her against your car. She groans into your mouth. It grows heated and you’re almost too distracted to notice your phone buzzing in your purse. 

You break away, both of you gasping for air. Rio runs a finger over her lip smugly and you pull out your phone. 

You win. Drop her off and come over to my house. Do NOT touch her. It’s from the unknown number you’ve memorized. A number you could recite in your sleep. A hot thrill runs through you. 

You smirk to yourself and turn to glance back at the figure in the alley, still cloaked in darkness. Of course Agatha would wait to watch, not being able to give up control even after she tried to. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever driven so fast in your hurry to get Rio home so you can go be with Agatha. But once you’re parked in Rio’s driveway, there’s an awkward pause. 

“Do you want to come inside?” Rio finally asks. You feel bad that you’ve led on her, made her a pawn in this game between you and your step-mom. 

“I should probably go. School tomorrow, you know. There’s still some things I need to finish,” you say apologetically. She nods like she understands and then she gets out of the car and enters her house without looking back. A pang of guilt hits you hard but you shake it off. 

I’ll be there in 20 you text Agatha. 

I’ll be waiting. Her reply comes almost immediately and your breath catches in your throat. 

Anticipation builds in your stomach the entire drive to your dad’s house. You’re not sure what will happen, or really what can happen if your dad is home. You have a feeling that if you have sex, Agatha will want to hear you make noise. 

You arrive in front of the house, all the windows dark. You shift nervously. Maybe she just made you drive all the way over here, knowing you wouldn’t do anything with Rio if she told you not to, and is hanging you out to dry. 

You check your phone. It’s been about twenty minutes, so Agatha should know you’ll be getting there any minute now. You wonder if you should ring the doorbell, make Agatha come down and explain or risk waking your dad. 

And then you see it. 

The gate to the backyard is unlocked and slightly pushed open. An invitation. 

You quietly shut your car door and creep up the driveway, cringing at the sound your car makes when you lock it. The gate squeaks. Your shoes echo on the patio concrete. It’s like you’re asking to get caught. 

When you finally turn around the house and come into view of the pool, your mouth falls open. 

Agatha is floating in the pool, an inviting smile beckoning you to join her. But that’s not what gives you pause. 

You can see in the light of the moon that she’s naked underneath the water. 

Your mouth runs dry as you strip off your dress as quickly as you can and your underwear follows in suit. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so turned on in your life and you can see her eyes darken at the sight of you. You walk quickly over to the pool steps and wade over to her, stopping when you’re right in front of her. 

The two of you stand like that for what feels like forever, simply soaking in each other’s bare skin. No words are spoken, risking nothing that might break this spell. 

And then Agatha reaches a hand out to cup your cheek, asking for permission with her eyes. 

You give it to her by entangling a hand in her hair and dragging her into a bruising kiss. There’s no teasing, no featherlight kisses – you both need this too much – and her tongue is in your open mouth before either of you knows it. You feel her moan into you and your arms circle around her naked back to pull her in even closer. You whimper at the feeling of her breasts against yours and you’re easily able to wrap both your legs around her waist, practically weightless in the pool.

Her fingertips dig into your ass and you can’t help but roll your hips against her lower stomach at the sting. 

“I can feel how wet you are even in the water,” Agatha chuckles darkly, walking with you until your back hits the edge of the pool, pulling another groan out of you. 

Her lips are back on yours, kissing you so fervently and so dominantly that it makes your head spin. You feel like you’re drunk. You’re literally vibrating with need for her. 

Her hot mouth trails down the side of your neck and then bites harshly. You whine, trying to get some stimulation on your clit by squirming against her stomach. Agatha tugs your bottom lip between her teeth and sinks them into it, eyes flashing with the sound you make. 

“Please, Agatha,” you beg. Her hands start stroking up and down your thighs, the dull ache between your legs now a roaring fire, still holding you in place against the pool wall. 

There’s a glimmer of mischievousness on her face. “Oh, baby, I know you can do better than that.” 

You’re panting, lips swollen, and grinding on her stomach. You’re not sure how much more she wants. “Please, Agatha, I need you, I want you, please fuck me, mom-” You clamp a hand over your mouth before you accidentally embarrass yourself beyond repair and she smirks like it’s the most delicious thing she’s ever heard. 

She leans in and whispers against your ear, “Say it. Who do you belong to?” Her right hand slowly moves up your thigh until she’s hovering her fingers right over your pussy. 

Your breath stutters, feeling her right where you want her. “You, mommy,” you whisper, barely audible. 

"That's right." She slides her hand through your folds, pressing hard on your clit which elicits a moan from you, and then she shoves you off her, stepping away like she had done in the bathroom at the bar. 

“What the fuck?” You ask, throbbing with need, never more aware of the emptiness inside you than right now.

“You didn’t think I was going to reward you after that little stunt you pulled in the parking lot, did you?”

“Agatha, I’m sorry, I just wanted to make you mad, please don’t, I need you so badly.” Your pleas fall from your mouth and she delights in them.

The smirk on her lips is pure evil. “I know, sweetheart. But mommy needs to make sure you learn your lesson. And trust me, when I do finally fuck you, it won’t be in a pool.” She climbs out of the water, grabbing the towel she set on the side and dries off. You watch her in a stupor, not believing that she’s going to leave you like this, lips still burning from her kisses. She throws the wet towel back on the ground for you to use and then walks naked to the sliding glass door, tossing you one last look. “And don’t even think about touching yourself.” 

She goes inside and you are alone once again. 

[tarantulasnot]

Please bless us with Luis smut fam

BET!!! I literally love you so much you've revived me. (He's going to be a cocky sub because I said so)

Content warning: oral (m and f receiving), hair pulling, unrealistically sensitive Luis, he's a sub but he's not a total bitch, but he kinda is, dom reader, deepthroat/fellatio, Leon is mentioned

He's so fucking cocky. Luis Serra never failed to drive you up the wall the entire time you and Leon are looking for the president's daughter. If you're killing religiously motivated villagers, his disgustingly smooth voice will resonate behind you. "You sure you don't need my help, Princesa?" Sure enough, you loathed the way the Spanish rolls off his tongue in such a beautiful way. He was a masterpiece of a man if it weren't for that personality of his.

Although, you can proudly say he looked rather nice handcuffed, following you around. Powerless. "Soo, Princesa." That fucking nickname again. "Sancho isn't around now, y'know." It's true. He'd gone into the church to find Ashley while you and the prisoner stayed outside of the doors, on guard. "So how about we have a little fun now that he's gone, hm?" You shake your head, placing a hand on the upper bridge of your nose. "Forget about it, Serra. I don't have time for your shit." His clever grin only grew wider. "Can't help flirting with a pretty woman in uniform." He shrugged, and the Spaniard had the audacity to lift his hands up. "I could do a uh... demonstration- if you untie me, unless you're scared of a man like me-"

Before he could finish, you grabbed him by his face, pushing him against the doors. "Listen, Serra." You spat his name. Instantly, there was a change. A bigger one than even he expected within himself. He gasped and his abdomen twitched with a salacious heat pooling in it. "I'm not scared of you, or anything you even THINK you can do." You exaggerate the word with a little shove, and God if it didn't make him tremble. Of course, he tries to keep his cocky persona, so he resorts to shoving you away with his tied hands.

"Ahh, did I touch a nerve, princes-" Your face turns into a scowl, and you feel the urge to put him in his place. He won't shut up, so you make him. Impulsively, you press your lips to his, and he immediately kisses back, his shoulders slamming back against the wood with the force of your hands keeping him pinned. A groan reverberates from his throat at the force of it. You almost overwhelm him, your tongue pushing past his lips and your hands gripping his shoulders. His hands clench into fists and his hips jerk forwards in excitement. He tries to say something, trying to pull his head away to tease but you don't let him. You chase his mouth with yours, and a knee slips between his legs.

The whimper that escapes him is heavenly, and his eyes squeezed tighter shut. The man is struggling to keep up with your pace. Your knee is relentless, and he finds himself pushing his pelvis against it, gasping a shuddering breath at the sensation. Fuck he's feining for you. He doesn't want to pull away, not really. But he's quickly growing desperate, embarrassingly turned on. He tries to stop the twitching of his hips- but it's just so good.

Finally, you pull away and he visibly slumps for a second. His lips are swollen with the pressure of the kiss, and he looks up at you with upward brows. Once again that smirk is there, ever present. "Couldn't help yourself to my charm?" He wipes his face, and he acts like he's not throbbing with need. You also feel yourself affected by what you've done, and he can tell. Your eyes have a certain light to them, and your breathing a little ragged. You don't even reply.

For a second you look at each other, and then the tension snaps again. You grab his face and he lets you; his hands falling open again before closing and the sweet taste of your lips pervades him. His mouth falls open to let you in, and his eyebrows furrow as he returns the kiss just as desperately. Fumbling with the keys, you undo one of the cuffs, and his hands are on you instantly. He's grasping at your waist, and he's holding on to the concave with a tight grasp.

"Fuck- Princesa..." You curl your hands in his hair, pulling it backwards and his mouth forms an o before his bottom lip gets pulled between his teeth. "Shut up you stupid man." With his neck exposed, your lips latch onto it like a starved woman. Nipping at the side of his Adam's apple before licking the small patch, lips sucking on the skin. He groans, a shiver running through his spine. He wants to say something else, just to spite you. Just to make you do more. However, he doesn't want to risk you leaving him like this. Wanton and pathetic.

He hums in appreciation however as you undo the lapels of his jacket, his hands fidgeting with your utility belt. In response, you grab him by the wrist that's still cuffed. "Ah ah ahh, don't even think about it."

You further part the leather with the slide of your palm, drifting down and under his shirt. "I don't know when your curious hands..." The sentence drones off with a graze over his abdomen, drifting to his belt. "Might want to go somewhere dangerous."

Luis folds mentally, his head rolling to the side and he huffs at the contact, even if it's through fabric. His arousal is pulsing through his body, his heady light and muddled. "You're not one to talk, with- ugh..." His head bows, and his hips jut into your hand. His breathing comes in short puffs, and he rests his forehead on your shoulder. The hot, cigarette tainted breath puffing against your skin. "Mierda, please-" He gasps, grip travelling lower to your hips. Luis relishes in the soft fat of the flesh, and he pulls you closer. "I know you feel it. I can make you feel so good princes-" rambling. All he's doing is rambling as he humps your hand like a depraved dog. His accent thick and hot next to your ear, his lips brushing it with every gasp and groan.

He narrows his eyes as you pull away, and he finds himself devoid of friction once again. However, he's pleasantly surprised when you fall to your knees in front of him. That disgustingly sexy accent rings as he opens his mouth again. "Oh?" His hands card through your hair, and you roll your eyes as you undo his jeans. "If you wanted to service me I could have-" but he's interrupted when you spit on your hand and wrap it around his swollen cock. He bites his lip with a shudder. "W-wait..." He bends over you, his hands grasping your shoulders to ground him. "Give me a second- ff-fffuck!"

Luis cries out as you wrap your lips around his tip, still stroking his shaft at an expert place. Not too fast, not too slow- and the way your tongue is dancing around the brown, aching bulb has him whining in a pitch you didn't expect from a masculine man like him.

In his own mind, he was hoping he'd be able to help himself this time- All the previous times he's slept with women they've all complained about how fast he finished. This time seemed to be no exception.

You knew exactly what to do, how to massage your tongue over the slit in his throbbing head every time a spurt of pre rushed out. The liquid coating your tongue as you slowly took him further into your mouth. Slick popping and squelching escaped the confines of your mouth as you gulp him down eagerly. The noises only spur him on further- much to his own demise. "Aye, dios mio- fuck! I can't- slow down Princesaa... Ah!" You slipped him further down your throat until you felt the heavy, searing heat of him slip over your tongue, over and over again. The flesh massaged by the slick of your muscle. He was falling apart above you, his thighs trembling as you pinned them to the wall. Saliva dribbles down from your lips to your chin as you sputter around him, taking him further with every bob of your head.

"Oh my God- too good. Too m-much!" His eyes roll back in their sockets as you relax your throat and bury your nose in the fuzz of his happy trail. Luis can feel the tightness of your cavern even still, and he can't help but buck weakly forwards. His cock fills your mouth completely, your slick muscle drawing back and forth on the underside of him. "God! Fuck! You're amazing- oh! F-fuck... I'm close pequeña, please! Please don't as- hmmngh!" He can't help it. His abdomen flares with heat as he cums in your throat, his eyes closing and tears pricking his eyes at the heat of it all. His balls twitch and so does his cock as he spills everything he has. "Fuck- I'm so sorry-" You pull away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

"Aww, is poor, strong, Luis sensitive?" You mock him, and his face blooms brighter. He covers his face with his hand, clammy and hot as he comes down from his rapidly approached high. "Don't say that- I can't help it." He shrugs, but his pupils are still dilated and his hands are shaking.

"Well I sure as shit didn't do that for free so..." You undo your belt, letting it fall to the ground around you. Luis gets the hint instantly, and he drops to his knees in front of you. He presses his forehead against your lower stomach, his hands shaking as they trail over your hips and thighs. He's practically worshipping you.

"I wouldn't expect anything less mi corona." He whispers, his strong hands pick you up by your thighs, creating dimples in the supple limbs. Fuck if his hands weren't the best things you've ever seen in your god damn life. He was clearly older, and they had a bit of hair on them, but they were thick. He looks down at the glistening folds in front of him, and he gulps. He can feel the rush of familiar fire in his lower stomach, and he twitches to life again.

"I hear Spaniards are very good with their tongues." You suggest, entwining your fingers in his chestnut locks. He looks up at you, his downturned eyes are just so pretty like this, and you feel his breath against your entrance. "I can give you a demonstration."

He doesn't wait for you to reply, he parts you with his tongue before his lips attach themselves to your clit, and he gently sucks on it before his heated tongue grazes the bud, flicking it and rolling it with his tongue before lapping underneath it, his nose, fuck... He's doing all kinds of shit.

I wouldn't be the king of unfinished fics if I continued. I LOVE THE REQUESTS THANK YOU I WILL GET TO THE REST PRETTY SOON I THINK <333

[sebsbarnes]

love and grief || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

summary: you knew no matter how often you two spat with the other, said you hated each other, hell, even nearly killed the other, you two were connected in some weird unexplainable manner.

warnings: death, violence, injuries, language

word count: 2.4k+

a/n: i needed to create spade, reader's sidekick, to make this work...he has no dialogue but their relationship is equivalent to tangerine and lemon. NOT RLLY EDITED

tangerine masterlist

his large hands wrapped themselves around your neck slamming you onto the counter. immediately you started losing air, desperately scratching at his fingers attempting to pry them open. small black dots began to cloud your vision as you squirmed underneath him, legs flailing.

"i can't lie love, you look pretty hot with my hands around your neck. too bad we aren't in a bed," he smirked through gritted teeth, the vein pulsating in his neck.

"well...a floor...might work...just...as good," you managed to squeak out, hands still pressed deeply on your neck. attempting to pry his fingers off did no good and with little time left before you passed out you grabbed his elbows, harshly pushing them up causing them to hyperextend. tangerine's grip immediately released as he shouted in agony. you quickly sat up on the counter, reaching over to him and grabbing his neck, slamming him to the ground. tangerine was now in your position just moments ago as you straddled the man while squeezing his neck.

"don't worry babe, i'll try not to give you rug burn," you winked pushing further onto his neck.

"mm charming," he grunted, face turning a deep shade of red.

he tried removing your hands by pulling at your forearms but you weren't budging. you had your hands locked and your feet locked under his thighs. had this been any other circumstance...like on his bedroom floor...you may have enjoyed this view of him but alas this was a circumstance far from that. tangerine was so close to passing out and just in an instance the whole dynamic changed. it was too late to register the sound of the door opening behind you. not a moment later you shrieked in pain pulling back from tangerine's neck to hold your upper arm that was now searing in pain. you looked at your trembling hand that was now coated in blood. taking this opportunity tangerine threw, literally threw, your body to the side smashing into the cabinets. you choked and your brain was frantically worrying about the loss of air and the torn up skin on your arm to even realize tangerine was now brutally fighting ladybug.

the saying goes the enemy of my enemy is my friend, but with ladybug that didn't apply. you loathed him. and although you hated tangerine you hated ladybug more and given the opportunity to fight him with someone as strong as tangerine...fuck yeah you'd take that chance.

ladybug had just slammed tangerine's head causing disorientation and while ladybug's back was to you you stalked over, gripping his scalp and dragging his body to the ground. you assumed the position from earlier, now choking out ladybug.

"y'know it's quite hot seein' ya dominate anotha' man," jested tangerine. surprised by his remark you stared at him with wide eyes but this left you vulnerable and ladybug now took advantage of your distracted state and lifted his leg kneeing you in the spine. your jaw was then met with his fist which made your teeth rattle. you were fuming.

the two of you stood up and you grabbed the center of ladybug's t-shirt and shoved him backwards into tangerine who held his arms back. some assassins had their go-to methods of fighting or torture. you? well you always had a pair of pliers handy. an odd thing perhaps but they were so....versatile. they always illicit some sort of fear and that's exactly what it was doing as you had one hand bringing the pliers to ladybug's teeth and the other gripping his jaw open. he was pleading and begging as you got closer.

"well shit love i didn't know how hardcore you were," tangerine said pulling his face as far as possible from the tool.

"keep coming onto me and i'll rip that tongue out of your pretty mouth," you hissed.

tangerine couldn't help the smirk that appeared on his face, "but then how would i be able to taste you darlin'?"

before you could pluck ladybug's teeth out and before you could rip tangerine's tongue out there was a loud commotion from a few cars up. tangerine and you both dropped ladybug (disappointedly since you were looking forward to beating the shithead) and bounded for the source. in your soul you knew something was wrong. immediately your breath quickened and legs fastened. tangerine silently observed you as he walked in tangent. he sensed the anxiety radiating off your body and he could only assume you thought something was wrong with spade. he couldn’t fathom anything besides an injury to spade, the two of you were way too skilled at your job to sustain serious injuries let alone something worse. but he was proven wrong.

the door slid open and tangerine watched as your body skidded. he grabbed underneath your armpits to steady you. it was blood, everywhere. you were rigid. it was your worse nightmare. it was spade dead.

he was propped against the wall in between the seats of the train, a giant gash across his neck. you kneeled beside his body grabbing at the collar of his shirt, "what the fuck spade," you whimpered, "what the fuck happened."

your hands and lips were trembling but you couldn't react more. no, not with tangerine around and not with the other killers on the train. you couldn't show any weakness. to you there was no such thing...at least that's what you kept trying to convince yourself.

"y/n...," tangerine spoke softly he wasn't really sure what to say. what do you even say to someone in a situation like this? the relationship you had with spade is like the relationship he had with lemon. the thought of being in your position made him nauseous, but even knowing you are in this position made him nauseous. the whole field of assassins... or whatever you want to call it...knew the two of you were enemies, pure hatred. but you both knew that the little quips and occasional touches were far from hatred.

"we should keep moving," you sounded robotic.

immediately you stood hiding your face and started walking away, tangerine trailing behind. he hesitantly brought a hand up to you shoulder to comfort you but his fingers merely ghosted your skin as he stopped himself. you kneeled next to spade not even a minute. there was no time to think, no time to mourn, no time to say goodbye. you were trying so hard to act normal but you were far from it. teeth were grinding together, nails digging into your palms, flared nostrils, eyes burning holes into anything you glanced at. he was gone just like that. you kept trying to swallow back the tears. 'not now' is all you could think. but the world felt like it was collapsing. it felt as though the you and the sky were colliding. the stars coming to engulf you in their flames and bury you deep within the earth's surface. rocks and sand crushed your body further and further into the center of the earth until it was complete darkness and the only sign of life was the sound of your heart slowly beating.

unbeknownst to you, while in your grief stricken daydream, tangerine was no longer following behind you. paying his absence no mind you continued to follow the small droplets of blood on the floor. you had convinced yourself it was someone else's blood and not spade's.

the door whizzed open and there stood a man, not just any man, the white death. he was holding a long blade which you desperately tried to ignore the blood on it. his smug demeanor made you want to carve his lips off his face. but you stayed still, waiting for him to say something.

"i figured the briefcase was gone," he boomed fiddling with the blade.

"yeah well fuck the briefcase i couldn't even begin to tell ya where the fuck it was last."

"it's a shame i ran into your brother first. he was just...collateral damage. i wished to find you first but," he tsked, "that didn't happen now did it? seems like you can only blame yourself for his death. it's almost as if you were the one holding the blade, right? if you managed to keep the briefcase safe and secure and arrive in kyoto he would be here with us now, hm?" it was the first time in your life you felt defeated. you had no energy to muster up to fight nor did you want to but that didn't matter as he charged towards you, blade swinging out.

you ducked underneath the blade, grabbing his arm and slinging him against the seats. the knife you had on you was much smaller and it took getting a lot closer to try and attack. when the white death stumbled onto the seat he was leaned over and you took the knife dragging it diagonally across the length of his back. in response he swung his arm at you, the butt of the long knife hit you in the mouth that was now pouring blood. the two of you continued fighting back and forth nonstop for awhile, both blades dancing around each other occasionally marking each other with a new wound. for an old man he sure had a lot of stamina and it was starting to become hard to ignore the bullet wound ladybug had caused to your arm. the white dead punched you in the ear which made a loud ringing noise that was painful to bear, he then took his boot and kicked you in the center of your stomach and you flew to the floor. weakly you managed to crawl to your knees.

"just do it already, just kill me," you laughed in defeat throwing your weapons to the side. you looked crazed, the blood from your mouth covered your teeth and left a stain running down your chin. you had a long gash to your jaw that trailed up towards your temple. you looked far from okay.

"what are you waiting for?' you taunted him, "there's nothing else left for me here so do it you dick. i'm begging. i'm the one that should be dead."

before the white death had the opportunity, the glass from the door behind you shattered and he inhaled sharply before the knife fell to the floor and he grabbed his neck that was now bleeding profusely. you were like a deer in headlights, frozen in place watching as the man before you collapsed to the ground no longer posing a threat. you fell forward onto your hands heaving out a cry.

"please just kill me," you whispered over and over again waiting for the person behind you to end it all. instead you felt your body being rotated around and you came face to face with tangerine. his blue eyes frantically scanning over your face.

on the way towards the commotion lemon called tangerine letting him know he had found ladybug and a young girl and 'dealt with the matter' which is what caused tangerine to sidetrack himself away from you. when he managed to catch up is when he saw the white death towering over your hunched body and before he could attempt to harm you even more tangerine took out his gun and aimed it at the man.

tangerine had heard your pleads to the white death. he saw your shaking frame, the wickedness yet defeat in your tone. you were giving up and in the years of knowing you, tangerine had never witnessed such a sight. he had never seen you raise the white flag in a fight nor even entertain the idea that someone could ever defeat and kill you. this wasn't the fighter he knew, but he knew that seeing your brother dead was the cause of this and he didn't blame you. his chest felt constricted as he rushed to your side in any attempt to mend you.

"hey. hey... hey! focus on me," tangerine said gripping your face slightly shaking your head, "i'm here. you aren't dying today."

"he's gone," you broke, looking into tangerine's eyes which were laced with emotion, "like... really gone."

"i know, love. i'm so fuckin' sorry, i am," tangerine whispered mournfully, cradling your severely injured body.

"please," your voice barely a whisper pleaded as you grabbed the knife you had thrown to the side and gestured it towards tangerine.

tangerine swallowed so hard it hurt, "absolutely not," he said gripping the knife and tossing it back to the side. you let your eyes close, lips trembling as tangerine picked up your frame.

"we're getting off this train, okay?" tangerine declared into your hair.

with the white death gone, his men no longer breathing, the briefcase long gone, and a very battered tangerine and lemon, the three of you essentially crawled out of the bullet train when it made it's final stop in kyoto. you limped onto the platform with a bleeding arm and face and pivoted away from tangerine and lemon who were a few steps ahead of you.

"where are you goin'?" tangerine asked baffled.

"wherever i can," you muttered lazily gesturing towards the stairs.

tangerine ran his tongue across his teeth, rolling up one of his white sleeves, "very funny love."

tangerine sauntered over to you picking you up forcing you to wrap your legs around his torso. you didn't want the help. you didn't want to feel hopeless. you didn't need the twins to sulk with you and take care of you. but you couldn't help but ease into tangerine's arms. you didn't want to admit it but they were comfortable... and familiar. you've been in this position before, legs tangled around his body, his strong arms gripping your frame. less clothes were involved those times and lips were feverishly kissing the other. but you liked this as much as it pained you to admit, it was nice being vulnerable in his arms. you knew no matter how often you two spat with the other, said you hated each other, hell, even nearly killed the other, you two were connected in some weird unexplainable manner.

so, you let him. you let tangerine carry you through the station, into an awaiting car. he'd lean your head onto his shoulder and play absentmindedly with your fingers. he hated hospitals but he wanted to get you the best medical attention. he sat by your side as you were cleaned and stitched up and then he would take you back to his house. few words spoken. he would make you tea and bring you clothes, the bed sheets and covers pulled back as you lay down and tucked you in. he'd let you cry into his arms and grieve your brother and he would be there each day moving forward.

[daisyvisions]

hey bestie do you have any thoughts on boyfriend hyunjae letting his best friend sunwoo fuck you bc he knows sunwoo has the biggest crush on his partner 🥺 asking for a friend… quite literally 🐶

A/N: with pleasure 😘 say hi to your friend for me 😉

Anything For My Bestest Friend

Members: Lee Hyunjae & Kim Sunwoo

Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), p in v sex, squirting, mentions of eating, semi voyeurism themes, a lil possessive Hyunjae, lil pervy Sunwoo, pet names (sweetheart, bunny, etc), mentions of breeding ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆.

How Hyunjae found out about Sunwoo’s fat crush on you was rather… unexpected.

You’d think maybe Hyunjae noticed the way Sunwoo was looking at you or how his face would light up whenever you entered the room, but it was none of that at all. In fact, it happened one day when Hyunjae came over Sunwoo’s place.

While Hyunjae waited for Sunwoo to get out of the shower, he noticed Sunwoo’s porn tab wasn’t closed (typical). Hyunjae was amused at first, wondering what kind of shit his best friend watches.

But what Hyunjae didn’t expect was that the woman in the video looked incredibly similar to you. At first Hyunjae thought it was just his imagination, but he decided to see if his theory was true by bringing up his sex life later during dinner.

This obviously caught Sunwoo by surprise to say the least. Hyunjae can be quite the blabber mouth but not when it’s about you especially intimate information like the sensitive spots on your neck, and the position that makes you squirt.

What the fuck is Sunwoo supposed to do with this information now? But Hyunjae was just having the time of his life seeing Sunwoo get all nervous.

He doesn't know where it came from but he suddenly thought of maybe even letting Sunwoo get a taste of you just one time (which was rather uncommon for him since Hyunjae can be quite…. possessive).

“C’mon sweetheart, it will be fun I promise.” Hyunjae coos in your ear while fucking you against the kitchen counter.

“Fuck- D-do we really have to talk about this now?” you whine. Why was Hyunjae even proposing his plan to let Sunwoo fuck you while he was pounding you at this moment was beyond you.

“Please, I just- I just wanna make my best friend happy okay? And what better way to let him get a taste of your sweet sweet pussy hm?” he drives a particularly hard thrust as he says the last word.

But you can hear the sincerity behind it. You know how Hyunjae is when it comes to his friends. They always come first in his list and that’s something you’d always admired about him.

Eventually you agreed to the little plan he had for Sunwoo.

“Remember, he can’t cum inside you. Okay?” Hyunjae whispers to you as he pumped his fingers in and out of your wet cunt prepping you for Sunwoo’s arrival.

“Y-yes… He won’t. That’s only for you-” you moan as you slowly come down from your high.

“Good bunny.” Hyunjae replies.

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

When Sunwoo had gotten home, he was surprised to see Hyunjae sitting and waiting on the couch. “Perfect you’re home! We’ve been waiting for you” Hyunjae exclaims.

“W-we?” Sunwoo questions.

“Yes! Your gift is just waiting in your room. Go see for yourself…” Hyunjae grins from ear-to-ear.

The moment Sunwoo opened his door he was expecting to see clothes, new parts for his pc, etc. He did not expect to see your naked body sprawled out on his bed AT ALL.

“OH MY GOD!” Sunwoo immediately covers his eyes, in a state of shock at the sight before him. He felt his cock throb so hard seeing a glimpse of your tits and soft curves, the very image he often thinks about at night when he’s pumping his cock harshly with his fist.

But before Sunwoo has time to make a run for it, Hyunjae shoves him inside his room and locks the door, leaving him and you alone.

“Hyung what the fuck!” Sunwoo shouts, his hands still covering his eyes though he desperately wants to peek through his fingers to see your body again.

“Sunwoo…” you call out for his name in a sing-song manner. “Open your eyes honey, it’s okay.”

He slowly uncovers his eyes and he’s greeted by your naked figure sitting at the edge of the bed. He’s trying so hard not to freak out about the situation but it’s so hard when all he’s thinking about is sucking on your tits.

“What the hell is going on?” Sunwoo asks you.

“Honestly? I’m not sure but Hyunjae told me about this plan so here I am. Like what you see?” You smile prettily at him.

Sunwoo doesn’t move from his spot, still in shock at everything that’s happen so far.

“Sunwoo… won't you come play with me. Please?” You pout and give him your most doe-eyed look. How can he say no especially when you look at him that way and call at his name like that?

“Fuck it-” Sunwoo mutters under his breath as he quickly strips down naked and kneels down in front of you to finally have a taste of your sweet cunt.

It’s been a couple of minutes since Hyunjae left you both alone, watching tv while he waits for this to be over and done with. He could hear your sweet sweet moans through the wall. The moans that fuel the fire inside him.

Though for some reason your moans were sounding a little too sweet… not even as sweet as when you two are together. So he goes and checks in on you and Sunwoo for “safe” measure.

Hyunjae knocks on the door and peeks in and is greeted by the sight of Sunwoo pounding you from behind which locking you in place with his arm wrapped around your neck.

“How's my best friend doing? Enjoying yourself?” Hyunjae asks Sunwoo. But all he gets in reply are low grunts and groans as Sunwoo’s eyes flutter shut from the tightness of your cunt wrapping around his cock.

“And what about you sweetheart? Enjoying yourself too?” Knowing Hyunjae, that was a trick question.

“Y-yeah. But not as good as your cock H-hyunjae…” And that’s exactly what Hyunjae wanted to hear from you.

“Sunwoo, I told you how to get her to squirt right? You should try it. It’s quite a sight to see” You squint your eyes at Hyunjae while he smirks back at you in response. You mentally curse him for telling Sunwoo about that very intimate detail.

Sunwoo wastes no time and quickly pulls his cock out, flips you around and lays you down on the bed. He holds your thighs down folding you like a pretzel and immediately pushes his length inside you once again.

And just like clockwork, you do end up squirting all over Sunwoo’s cock and on his sheets (which he won’t be washing for a while). He returns the favor by releasing his load all over your stomach, painting your soft skin with his hot white cum.

As Sunwoo starts putting back his clothes on and leaving his room, Hyunjae stops him.

“Where do you think you're going?” You and Sunwoo both look at Hyunjae in confusion.

“Since you like watching porn of women that look like Y/n-” He pauses for a brief moment, looking into Sunwoo’s embarrassed eyes.

“-Why don’t you sit down and watch me fuck her this time? I swear, she’s got the prettiest look on her face when I breed her like my little bunny…”

[foryoufics]

A Shore Thing

Author's Note: I have the time and motivation to write and no coherent ideas so I'm going with a tried and true tested classic overused ass cliche mermaid trope, we all love them there is no point lyin' and denying. This should be done in chapters but I always abandon those so it will be a one shot.

Summary: Jungkook has come to a bridge he never wanted to have to cross, explaining to your daughter why she's never known you and why she can't go on a trip with her boyfriend; in her case, he could literally lose his babygirl if she goes

Characters: Y/N, Jungkook, Y/N and Jungkook's daughter Alara, mention of her bf but he's irrelevant to the plot honestly lol

Warnings: tbh idk if this one will have any, some fluff, some angst, a teenager being well a teenager, corny jokes on Jungkook's part, some physical grabbing and momentary choking in a non-sexual way/almost abusive way, mermaid suicide?

"I hate you!! I hate you so much-ugh- you don't even understand dad! You have no idea! I'm probably never going to forgive you for this!!" Alara, better known as Ally, shouts to Jungkook as she's storms ahead of him back to the car.

"ALARA, Don't walk ahead of me....please," Jungkook pleads. He wanted to shout back at her for the disrespect but he was hurting too much at her words and in this moment, he was telling himself this was not the moment to let her see him cry, and willing himself not to was taking all of his willpower. He wanted nothing more than to turn off his hearing aid

"WHY? Why shouldn't I? This is what you did to mom!! Remember that!? Huh!? Did you forget!? Well, I didn't!!! It must've been about the same time too-," she looked to the darkness of the night sky, then checked the time on her phone, "yeah...exactly, 9:30-just because you can't be happy, I can't be!! It's not fair!!" Her anger boils over and she shoves his chest.

He grips her arm, "Get in, Alara," he says, all sorts of emotions boiling inside of him as he eyes her neck. He wipes his mouth, "please....please," his hand forms a fist and the one gripping her arm tightens, "tell me that isn't what I fucking think it is," he swallows a lump in his throat. "Well, yeah, you kinda interrupted something. You're hurting me, let go...," she mumbles. "I showed up just in time, get in the truck." He opens the door and lets her arm go when she's sitting in the passenger seat, to her angry screaming, he had no choice but to turn his aid down and pound on and close her window, lock it as well. He shouts for her to 'Stop yelling', more pleads as he grips her boyfriends ears and cradles his head when he sees him doubling over behind them, gripping his bleeding ears. She watches the scene and reads Jungkook's lips and stops shouting at the sight; watching her dad check on her boyfriend and then come back to the truck and slam the door and readjust the volume settings on his hearing device. "W-What happened?" She stutters crying, "what happened just now!? Was that because of me? Damn it, I want answers!!" She once again stops shouting when she sees Jungkook painfully try to shield his ears, the way his face grimaced

"Are you done?" Jungkook asks her, his voice as if he had swallowed gravel and she nods. For a moment, he only starts driving, saying nothing

"What the fuck were you thinking?" He asks calmly, staring dead ahead at the road, he couldn't bear to look at her skin marked with those damn hickeys until he asked, reaching over to gently rub the back of his finger over them

"I was thinking I am almost a grown woman and it felt good, I trust him and I like him and I thought you did too..."

"Almost....I do...I'm not mad at you, I am not mad at either of you, have to admit what you said back there did tick me off a smidge.....it's time we had a conversation I was hoping we would never have to have, admittedly it was silly of me to think that-"

"Dad, I don't need that talk, I know everything I need to know and then some-"

"God, Ew, no, no, please no, just shush stop. I clearly can see you know--you left with a bag packed, I told you can't go on that beach trip"

"Yeah, I know, which is really stupid, and what you didn't tell me was why," she crosses her arms in a pout

"Alright, little miss almost grown ass woman, I'll give you the answers. You can't go on that trip because I don't want to lose you....same reason we never went to the ocean when you were growing up"

"Yeah, I've always wanted to see the ocean-and what do you mean you'd lose me? I can swim and I wouldn't be alone, I'd be with someone we both trust and what the hell happened back there? I was hurting you both-his ears were bleeding dad! You were both in pain! I need more than that!"

"I'm getting there baby," Jungkook takes a deep breath, "I'm going to need you to listen....please"

She nods, hearing the seriousness in his tone, "okay"

"It is a long story, I should start with, that woman that left, storming off, at 9:30 that night all those years ago, as you so very vividly remember and didn't fail to mention earlier-," she opens her mouth to speak and he cuts her off with a hand in her face, "listening." "That woman wasn't your mother, you never referred to her as such when she was in our lives and I will not allow you to start now; she was my ex wife and that's it....and yes, his ears were bleeding, he might have some damage done but he will be okay, and yes, it was because of you....you have to be careful....now, I have to tell you about your mother to answer all of these questions and to explain-"

"Just a ex wife," she scoffs, "hmph, is that all my mom was?"

"No, your mom and I were never married. Never even together romantically or otherwise"

"Dad, we just established I know better than that, so what she wasn't even worthy of being with you huh? So what? A one night stand? Fuck buddy?"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!" Before he could stop himself to think he was reacting, slamming on the breaks and reaching over to grab her throat, "DON'T YOU EVER DISRESPECT MY BEST FRIEND LIKE THAT! YOU HEAR ME!?!" He had completely blacked out, he very quickly comes back to when he feels his baby girl's hand tapping his arm and her gasping. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry baby. I'm so sorry.....please, just don't talk about your mother like that, and please listen...," she was scared, he had never reacted this way to anything. She nods and accepts the water bottle he was offering her from the cooler in the back, drinking some as he stroked her hair and finally was bursting into tears and stroking her hair, apologizing through his sobs. After taking the time to calm him down and leaning over to let him hold her for a bit he was able to start driving again and telling her the story. "I'm sorry, I will never do that again I swear; and I won't tell you that you can't go on that trip, I'll let you make that decision....but if you go, he and I both lose you....and I want you to be able to experience life and love and....what I interrupted," he shivers at the thought

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Gguk!! It's so good to have you out man!!" Namjoon says as he and all of Jungkook's brothers ran to meet him at the gates and bombard him with welcomed hugs.

"Hi guys, hey, I-I met someone"

"Look at you smiling!" Yoongi laughs and pats his shoulder. "Yeah, she must be great!" Hope adds laughing and they all start asking questions.

"Guys," Jungkook laughs, "I met her....at the beach...in the water....this is going to sound crazy but...she's a mermaid," there is a long pause before the guys burst into laughing. "Man, the military really broke you huh?" Taeyhung messes his hair. "No, no really, I'm serious....guys, I'm serious"

Namjoon gestures for the guys to stop, "Jungkook....," he says, his voices lace with worry

"I'm serious. I have proof," Jungkook reaches behind him into his bag for something and shows them two glass potion jars, the kind you could buy at a craft store, one containing water that was white and glowed like the sun, the other was water with what looked like a pearl and what appeared to be glass beads; they weren't sure. "This is water, it's from her hair, she dripped into here," he says about the smaller jar, "and....this one is...I'm not sure....after she gave me the other one she climbed onto a rock, she said that she wanted me to have what was going to be there and if I ever missed her to add a piece of myself and to never let it go to the ocean or I would lose it forever, so, she...she climbed out and asked to hold my hand and she became a few scales and this pearl thing.....and she held my hand, she was in so much pain, the sun, outside of the water, her human flesh seemed to...to...melt into a pile of boiling blood a wave crashed onto and immediately washed a away....I was left in shock, she wasn't holding my hand anymore.....but she didn't even scream or anything as it happened.....she just looked at me and I looked at her, and it was quiet....then as the wave came, I quickly grabbed the pearl and the scales like she said and I put them in here with some water; I couldn't leave it bloody....it's been a few days and I have missed her but I haven't done anything"

The silence went on for a very long moment as all of the guys stared at the bottles and their contents, Jungkook's eyes were locked on them but the guys glanced between each other.

"C-Comeon, let's get you out of the heat," Namjoon says as if he's speaking to a fragile child, wrapping a arm around Jungkook as they walk him to the van to leave the base. "You believe me right guys?" He looks at all of them and they all nod and give a "yeah, sure~" "totally~" in that same condescending voice as Namjoon had, "Listen we are going to be here for you buddy, you should stay with Tae and I for a while," Namjoon added. Yet Jungkook didn't relent on his stories, he went on for months after that, they didn't relent on treating him as if he had lost his mind either; they played along thinking he was in a fragile mental state, asked him questions and listened to what he would say.

'Hey, Gguk, how did you meet your fish girlfriend? You were sweating in your sleep last night, twitching....want to talk about that? Was it what happened-what you said when you were leaving the service?'

Jungkook nods to the part of the question addressing what specifically caused him to do that in his sleep, and shakes his head, "no, I don't want to talk about that," he picks at his cuticles and looks down at them then looks up and smiles, "but I do want to talk about her. She was just my friend, I met her during a break, I took a trip to a private beach and she was in the water. Obviously I swam to her, I said hi," he shrugs

"You saw a mermaid," Namjoon cleared his throat, to try and not give away his true thoughts, "and you just...swam up and said hi?" He asked

"What? So you are a therapist now and think I'm crazy?" Jungkook asks defensively. Namjoon had become a therapist but also was being a complete ass

"I...I just want to hear the story, may I hear the story please?"

"Okay....," Jungkook comes around and sits, "I swam to her, her back was turned so I scared her," he giggles, "she jumped back and she looked shocked, so I apologized...," he smiles as he drifts into the story

~~~~~~~

"Hi," you jumped, feeling a finger tap the back of your shoulder as you turned to see another merperson. You had never witnessed a human nor merperson before, only known stories you would hear through the water of both. This one, was breathtaking, whichever it was. "Hi, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you....you uh, you have a tail"

You nod. "May want to keep that hidden," he whispers and smiles to you.

"D-Do you have a tail?" You had no idea how you were able to communicate with him. "No, I'm human. I don't have a tail, I have legs, see?" He flipped to be as if he were standing on his head in the water, his legs sticking out of the top

"So....what brings you out here?" He asks laughing

"I.....was.....," you look around, "I was....alone"

"Because it's a private beach? You aren't alone, don't want anything happening to you, so...I'm Jungguk, what's your name?"

"Name?"

"Yeah, what do your kind call you? By the way did you sing to lure me here?" He replies, laughing at your very confused expression, "I didn't hear any"

"I didn't ...sing.....I don't have a kind?"

"oh......so you really meant.....you're all by yourself?" You nod to his question, "Only me, this kind"

"oh.....well the ocean is a big place, that has to be lonely....I've been missing my brothers too and lonely myself....how about let's be friends, yeah? And you need a name, how's......Y/N?"

"Yes," you agree, smiling and nodding. He was at least someone something like you

"So....I'm guessing you're not like the TV mermaids that can switch back and forth?"

"No," you shake your head and he laughs

"I see, well, I spend most of my time on land but I'm a really good swimmer so I'll came and see you here on my breaks, okay?" You nod, all you understand is that he will see you and it will be here

And Jungkook did, for many months he came to see you there often, he showed you all sorts of human things. When he came at night, the thing he called the sky was dark and it had these things he called stars; that was a third world neither of you could touch. He showed you things of the human world, and told you about life there, and these things called dad jokes that he got from his big brother Seokjin. He always spoke of his big brothers and he had many of them, Seokjin seemed to be his favorite. You found yourself wanting to meet them all, you actually thought someday you might meet Seokjin, he was a fisherman, but Jungkook assured you you had no reason to be afraid of him. He said that Seokjin cooked the fish really well too, he said he cooked everything well, and you could imagine tasting and enjoying a happy meal with his family. You admired how he said Seokjin had learned to cook because their brother Jimin wasn't eating. In his stories, they were never alone, you much preferred this feeling you got listening to Jungkook and being with him than your time before you knew him. You trusted him and you felt like part of his family, you could sense how he felt much like you did then not being with them and you very much hated that.

"Jungkook, I found this on a ship wreck, what is it?" You ask him one day

"oh, that, that's a very damaged book cover"

"What is a book?"

"A book is something that humans use to share knowledge and stories for entertainment. My brother's really like the Harry Potter ones"

"Can you tell me about it?" You listened as the sun set and he told you these stories of Harry Potter that his brothers liked

Many of his visits went this way, talking for hours and hours, until one day, he came and he didn't seem to want to speak much at all

He sat by a rock and leaned on it appearing defeated, he didn't even get in the water with you to swim. He looked only at his hands, "Y/N.....I came to say, this is my last visit....my military service is going to end really soon...and I'm going home, I wanted to say goodbye because you have been such a great friend to me the past few years"

"I will miss you very much, I don't want to be alone again....when does your service end?"

"Two weeks..."

"May I see you one more time? Please?"

"Yeah, I can come one more time..... tomorrow?"

"Yes, and could you please bring me some of those.....Harry Potter potion bottles?"

He chuckles, "Yeah, I can do that," and the next day he came then as he promised

"The small one please?" He hands it to you and you ring your hair into it before passing it back, "don't drink it, it's just to not forget me," you laugh and he smiles then you take the other bottle, "I am going to come out to that rock, can you hold my hand and maybe you can tell your family stories about me? I want you to take what's left there in this and if you miss me you can just add a little bit of yourself, just don't let it go to the water or you will lose it forever...."

"Yeah....a shore thing...," he jokes and you alright and take his hand, using your upper body strength to lift yourself up onto the rock. It happens immediately, the sun burning your human flesh and boiling you but you just focus on Jungkook holding your hand

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jungkook, hey!!!" Jungkook comes to his senses and sees Namjoon tapping his face and wiping it on his sweater sleeve, "what?" He asks as he's pulled into the larger man's shoulder, "I've got you, I've got you, it's okay....it's over....."

Namjoon narrowed this whole mermaid thing down to traumatic experience Jungkook must've seen on the field and was using it to cope with the PTSD. Nothing seems to change after that and one day he comes home to Jungkook, holding a sleeping baby in his arms while he was on the floor, on his knees, blood pouring from his ears.

"JUNGKOOK!" He rushes over when his friend didn't respond to him screaming, he tries to take the child but Jungkook's grip was like a boa constrictor around it's prey but he was protecting the child like a mother lioness. Namjoon tries to explain to Jungkook that he was trying to help, they needed to clean the little one and get them both to the hospital. He manages to call Seokjin over to help and together they get them both to the hospital. The child appeared to be a perfectly normal and healthy little girl, two legs, two feet, ten toes. They did lab work and learned she was Jungkook's but didn't understand how when they had been keeping close watch on him because of his mental state and he hadn't been with anyone; either Namjoon, Seokjin, or Taeyhung would have known. That was also the night Jungkook had lost his hearing and was almost completely and entirely deaf. The next week's they spent adjusting to Jungkook now being hearing impaired and all pitched in to help him with the baby, no one asked for a while how the hell she came to be until eventually they did. One night when she was a few weeks old and they could no longer stand it they brought it up.

Jungkook tells them the truth, the night that Alara was born, the night he never wanted to relive ever, he had been missing you intensely and just wanted to talk to you when he was finally alone. So he plucked a strand of his hair and placed it into the jar, thinking nothing would happen he gave it a shake and stared at it but something did happen. He heard you screaming, he heard what he should have heard the last time he saw you and the jar shattered leaving Ally there where it was, screaming just as intensely, he was telling you that you were going to be okay for what felt like eternity while the glass shattered which didn't happen quickly. When you finally stopped screaming the baby was crying and he felt the pain but didn't care, he was cooing and trying to get her to feel safe. Eventually Namjoon came home

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So......if I go on this trip.....what did she mean you will lose me forever?"

"I don't know.....," he answers honestly

"Daddy, I'm scared....," she was crying now, quietly

He was pulling in the drive at this point and parking, he comes around and when she gets out and hugs his neck, he lifts her up like she's a baby again and carries her up to tuck her in, "me too.....just.....think about it before you do it.....please"

"shore thing.....," and he wipes her tears with his thumb and kisses her forehead

[m9rtality]

My love, mine all mine.

AFAB READER IMPLIED!! no pronouns specified.

PART ONE

“Moon, tell me if I could”

“You alright there doll?” a sudden voice said, my head that rested on the bar counter lifted as I looked at the man that uttered those words to me. He was pretty, the man had silky ginger hair and dark blue eyes.. His height was average but still taller than me, he sat next to me with a soft gaze as he held a glass of wine in his hand.

“You look like you had a rough day, I'm Chuuya, Chuuya Nakahara.” He uttered as I sat up and wiped the tears that were welled up in my eyes. “Just a rough day, I mean I literally had to be the maid of honor to my best friend while my ex husband was the groom. I'm Y/N by the way..” I huffed out as I took a drink of whatever alcohol I was given. I put my head in my hands as I sighed softly, god I was a mess. To which Chuuya just patted my head and slipped me a piece of paper with his number in it. “I thought you were pretty, and it looks like you need a friend so here's my number.” He told me with a soft smile, that night Chuuya and I drank the night away.

“Send up my heart to you?”

I giggled as I told Chuuya about a cat I had just gotten, he was an orange kitten that I named Rui. I didn't notice but Chuuya was smiling as if he was the luckiest man on earth while watching me play with my new kitten Rui through facetime. “He kind of looks like you Chuu!” I said happily as I craddled Rui in my arms, Rui did everything to get out of my arms but he failed so he just bit my arm. He didn't have sharp teeth so if anything it tickled, Chuuya laughed softly before he uttered “Yeah he does.”

“Can you come over?” I asked suddenly as I played with Rui, I didn't look at my screen as Chuuya screenshoted the moment before the words ‘Yeah I'll be there in 10.’ left his lips and he ended the call. Just as he said ten minutes later he opened my door to my apartment with the spare key that I had given him. I walked out and set Rui down before I jumped in Chuuya's arms, he quickly caught me as always, Chuuya's right hand rested on my thighs with a firm grip while his left hand was wrapped around my back. I laughed softly as Chuuya nuzzled his head in my neck while he smiled softly.

“So, when I die, which I must do”

“Y/n.. Who- Who was your ex husband?” I heard Chuuya ask from the living room as I stood in the kitchen cooking food, I bit my lip as I uttered 5 words. “Osamu Dazai.. was my husband.” I stood nervously as I waited for Chuuya's response, until arms wrapled around my waist and a head rested on my shoulder. “I knew Dazai. He's an ass, he didn't deserve you doll.” Chuuya told me as he placed a kiss on my shoulder before helping me cook dinner.

By the time we were done there was a mess in the kitchen, my face was covered in food and so was Chuuya's. Instead of cleaning it up, we just stood in the middle of the kitchen, we held each other before Chuuya pulled me into a gentle kiss which was interrupted by Rui meowing at us. “Aw Rui do you want some attention too?” I laughed as I picked up the cat and held him in between Chuuya and I

“Could it shine down here with you?”

I hadn't seen Dazai since he got married to Riko and I hadn't seen Riko since our fight after the wedding, yet here they stood at my front door with a little boy that looked about 2 years old. He looked exactly like his father, Riko said his name was Oda and that Dazai named him. She didn't know who Oda was, nor what he meant to Dazai, but I did. I was there when Dazai held Oda’s dying body in his arms. Riko and Dazai shoved their way in as little Oda said hi before following his parents, he was a sweet boy.

“So Y/n, did you ever move on from my husband or are you still stuck up on him?” Riko said snarkily as I clenched my fists and closed my front door. Right one que Chuuya walked out of our bedroom with Rui in his arms as he looked at Dazai and his bitch of a wife confused. “I didn't know we had guests? I didn't know our guests would be your ex husband and his… wife” Chuuya said as he looked at me and put Rui down. “Chuuya?..” Dazai uttered shocked as he glared at Chuuya, I walked over to my boyfriend and kissed his cheek before petting Rui. “Riko.. This is my boyfriend, Chuuya. He’s not interested in you so don't try anything!” I said in a passive aggressive tone as Oda played with Rui.

Riko suddenly started to talk about random things in her marriage with Dazai and how Dazai is so much happier with her than he was with me. Dazai was on his phone as his wife went on and on whilst Chuuya and I stood there awkwardly until a small voice spoke up “Mama you're talking too much..” I snorted loudly as I covered my mouth before my head turned to the voice of Oda, their two year old son. Oda had a pout on his face as Rui hissed at Riko, “Mama you know lying is bad! and rude. Daddy talks about Y/n lots! and he says he liked them better!” Oda continued as he pointed a scolding finger at his mother.

Chuuya and I bursted into laughter as Oda scolded his mom for her immature actions, until Riko had enough and she stood up. She grabbed little Oda as he waved bye to Rui, Chuuya and I with a smile as Dazai hurried after his wife and son.

“'Cause my love is mine, all mine”

I walked into my now empty apartment, and stood as memories flashed through my head, Chuuya walked inside and kissed my cheek. He hugged me from behind with his hands resting around my waist, until two kids ran past the two of us and looked around excited. “Woah.. this is your old apartment?” a little girl with bright ginger hair and heterochromic eyes just like her father, “It’s small.” another little girl said as she carried our old cat Rui inside. “MOM/DAD ASUKA PINCHED ME!!” a voice shouted from the empty hallway. A little boy with h/c hair ran from the hallway and hugged my legs as Chuuya sighed and went looking for Asuka. “Awe it's okay Fuyuki..” I laughed as he hid behind my legs while his sisters argued in the empty old living room as Chuuya tried to pull the two apart.

I smiled as life fell into place for me.

[im-a-wonderling]

White Moves First, Part 4 ~ Edmund Pevensie

Summary: Despite the distance between their two lands, Y/N, princess of Archenland, is close friends with King Edmund the Just. But when push comes to shove, will friendship turn to more?

Warnings: none?

Word count: 4.2k

White Moves First masterlist | Main masterlist

Edmund paced around the drawing room, his anxious gaze occasionally staring at the chessboard. 

Where was Y/N?

He rushed here as quickly as he possibly could after the meeting, unsure of how to tell her about everything and yet certain that she needed to know as soon as possible.

But she wasn’t there.

Too antsy to wait, he checked everywhere he could think: the royal dining room, the gardens, the library. He even went to her bedchamber and mustered up enough courage to knock. The staunch lady’s maid that answered informed him the princess hadn’t been back since she woke up that morning.

So he returned to the drawing room, fretting that Y/N would learn the news from her father, or her brothers, or, Aslan forbid, Rabadash himself.

His anxiety snowballed, every second bringing a new terrifying possibility as to how Y/N would react to his news. Would she hate Edmund for being there when her father betrothed her to a monster? Would her face go red as she stomped her foot and yelled? Would she cry, wailing about how it was a mistake? He hoped she wouldn’t cry; he never knew what to do when his sisters cried, and their tears stemmed from sentiment more than trial. 

Edmund shook his head, standing in front of the window to look out at the mountains. What was he thinking? Y/N was a lady of grace and charm. She would absolutely be angry and sad, but she would never lose control. She would face the situation head on, doing her best to never let her misery show.

Somehow, that seemed worse.

A soft thud sounded behind him. Edmund spun to see Y/N with her back to the door she’d just slipped through. Finally, she was here. He opened his mouth, preparing to ask her to sit, when he spotted the look on her face, a look that spoke of such deep anguish, his heart ached. 

“You know,” he said softly, the words betraying nothing of the trembling of his soul. “Who told you?”

“I listened in on the meeting.”

A rush of affection shot through Edmund. Of course she listened in. Of course she’d caught wind of the meeting with enough time to get into place before it could even start. It was just the kind of stubborn, clever thing she would do. 

He chided himself. Now was not the time. 

Putting his back to her, he faced the fireplace, running his hand through his hair. “We can’t allow this, we have to come up with an alternative.”

“There is no alternative.” Y/N’s shockingly steady voice made Edmund hesitate. “The prince is dead set on this engagement.” 

“Maybe if I talk to Rabadash–” 

“I already did.”

Sure he’d heard her wrong, Edmund turned to look at her. “You did what?”

Y/N dropped into the armchair, resting her forehead on a fist. “After the meeting, I went to confront Rabadash.”

“You did what?!” Edmund nearly tripped over the other armchair in his haste to reach Y/N. “Do you have any idea–”

A look of such distress crossed her face, Edmund lost his words. 

Often, when Edmund looked at her, he could’ve sworn she emanated literal rays of sunshine. Now, her glow had been dethroned by a hefty darkness. He hovered, torn between turning away from the painful sight or comforting her. 

Was she…giving up? Had she resigned herself to be Rabadash’s wife? To live in Tashbaan for the rest of her life, never to see her family or Edmund ever again? Red-hot devastation flashed through Edmund’s core, and he quickly withdrew from it, reverting back to his pacing. “Perhaps if I go to your father in private, I can change his mind.”

“And subsequently make him lose his kingdom?” Y/N shook her head. “He was willing to marry me off to Rabadash without even telling me first. Peace is his biggest concern.”

“There has to be an alternative.” Edmund scratched his head. “Maybe if some trade routes are established between Archenland and Calormen–”

“It’s not just Archenland,” Y/N said dully. “He’s worried about retaliation from Narnia too.”

Edmund blinked. “He tried to kidnap one of Narnia’s monarchs, he should be worried. But what does that have to do with marrying you?”

Y/N pressed her lips together and looked away. Was Edmund imagining it, or was that a flush creeping across her cheeks? 

“Y/N?” he said carefully. 

“I don’t know,” she replied, still not looking at him. “All I know is that he thinks marrying me prevents war.” 

The wobble in her voice must’ve been a product of Edmund’s imagination. “Then we’ll just find another way to prevent it,” he said, returning to his pacing. “We can convene a peace meeting with all three nations, and we’ll reach an armistice. I’ll send a messenger to Narnia to–”

“Edmund, stop!” 

He did stop, right in his tracks. He’d never heard Y/N raise her voice before. When he spun to face her, the dejection in her face made him want to sink through floor. 

“This is what I was intended for,” she said, her voice calm again. “From birth, I was never supposed to lead. I was a bride to be married for the highest value.” She rubbed her arm, caving in on herself. “There is nothing more valuable than peace.”

“But…but Archenland needs you!” Edmund pressed. 

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Your family needs you.”

“No, they don’t.” 

I need you.

The statement rocketed out of the depths of Edmund’s mind, shocking him so much that for a heartbeat, he worried he’d said it out loud. But Y/N gave no indication she’d heard such a thing.

His first inclination was to dispute the statement. Need? To need something was to be incapable of living without it. Edmund couldn’t live without food or water, or his body would give out. His spirit would shrivel without his siblings, just as his mind would collapse without books.

But he didn’t need Y/N like he needed any of those things, so what part of him was left to need her?

He couldn’t simply say he liked Y/N. That word didn’t do enough justice. Edmund liked a lot of people. He trusted her, because she’d long since earned it, but he trusted others as well, and he didn’t feel this way about them. He couldn’t put a name to the feeling, and he didn’t know how else to describe her presence in his life other than wholly necessary. 

So...he did need her. 

Is that why his heart ached as he stared at his nearly despondent friend? 

Stubbornness turned over in his chest like a restless dragon, snorting flames from its nostrils. He’d be damned if he let her go to Tashbaan. The idea of losing someone so precious to someone so wicked–

Edmund went to Y/N, getting down on his knee beside her, almost reaching out to touch her hands before he thought better of it. “You are worth more than a bargaining chip.” 

Y/N flashed him a fond, yet sad smile. “You always did favor pawns.”

“Don’t say that,” Edmund said, surprising himself with the sharpness of his words. “You’re not a pawn.”

“Then what am I, if not the weakest piece in the game?” Y/N retorted, getting to her feet, resuming his pacing. “I can’t do anything, Edmund! My words mean nothing! I can’t fight on anyone’s behalf, I can’t make anything lasting or important! The only reason I’m even a part of the game at all is so that I can be sacrificed!”

He got up, stepping in the way of her path so she was forced to stop and look at him. “I won’t let you go.” He took her hands again, squeezing them tightly. “We can stop this.”

A laugh tinged with sadness fell from Y/N’s lips as she looked up at him. Her watery eyes surveyed him with the same insight they always did, penetrating him down to his very bones. “This can’t be stopped.” The corners of her mouth turned down as her chin started to tremble. Edmund knew she was desperately trying to hold herself together. But he also knew she wouldn’t be able to, not if she was drowning in the same roaring helplessness swelling inside him.

Throwing caution to the wind, he wrapped his arms around her, half expecting her to delicately extricate herself from his improper embrace.

But instead of pulling away, she reacted in kind, winding her hands tightly around his back, the pads of her fingers pressing into his skin as she clung to him.

They’d never hugged before. As two members of royalty, the only touch that was allowed was his kiss on her hand or his hand on her waist as they danced. This was very different from that.

Y/N buried her face into the spot where his neck met his chest. Her shoulders began to shake, and Edmund held her tighter as if he could hold her world together purely with the strength of his two arms. She sniffed, and Edmund began to rub his hands in soothing circles on her back, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured. “I swear to you, I’ll find a way. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure this engagement is called off.”

“How?” Y/N said, her voice muffled by his shirt. 

“I…I don’t know yet.” 

Edmund hated the admission. He was the Just King, for pity’s sake! He was known for his wit and mind for strategy. Why, the only person who’d ever outmaneuvered him was in his arms right now. Surely now, when the need was greatest, his mind could come up with something?

Y/N’s shoulders stopped shaking, and she pulled away. “It’s okay,” she said softly, looking up at him, allowing him to see the unhappiness tugging at her mouth. “It won’t be all bad, right?”

Edmund should’ve agreed, should’ve tried to comfort her, but he couldn’t speak, not when he saw the wet trace of tears on her face. Just as he predicted, she was donning a brave face to hide her misery. 

Y/N looked off to the side. “For one thing, my father will never be able to marry me off again.” She gave a wet laugh.

“I guess that’s true,” Edmund said reluctantly. 

“I’m sure there are all manner of interesting peoples in Tashbaan.” She blinked several times, clearly fighting more tears as her trembling lips formed a fragile smile. “I won’t be totally alone, I’ll be able to find a friend.”

He couldn’t stomach that thought. Obviously he didn’t want her to be alone, but the idea of her trying to replace him with someone from Calormen only added to the pressure building in his chest. 

Y/N walked over to the window, staring out at the mountains. “You know, the farthest I’ve ever traveled is Mount Pire. I’ve never gotten to cross the Winding Arrow River before, so the trip to Tashbaan will be–” she cut off.

Her words were slowly breaking him. He wordlessly joined her at the window, but instead of looking out of it, he watched Y/N gaze out at the mountains in the distance. Her attempt to find the good...it was almost too much to bear. 

And yet he still had no ideas.

His anger spiked.

He was furious with Rabadash for being a hotheaded churl, with King Loon for bartering away his daughter’s life, and even with Susan for indulging Rabadash as a suitor in the first place. If she’d been content being unmarried, none of this would’ve happened. But no, she just had to have a husband, didn’t she? She’d succumbed to the same desire that many women had before her, a desire that he would never understand, a desire that Rabadash apparently expressed to King Loon.

Is this really what Rabadash wanted? To marry a woman in front of an entire kingdom? To sleep every night with her on the other side of the bed for the rest of his life? To have children with her? To belong to her?

But he wouldn’t belong to her, Edmund realized. 

It was common for men of high status to have multiple wives, and Prince Rabadash was no exception. If Edmund’s intel was correct, he already had three wives. Y/N wouldn’t be afforded the respect of a princess, which was already much less than she deserved. She would become property, something to be used up and discarded.

It made him sick to his stomach, enough that he had to take a deep breath and look out the window. 

Wait a minute, he thought. These aren’t the Southern mountains. He thought Y/N was looking out at the mountains that hid the Winding Arrow River from view, but the shape wasn’t right. She was looking to the Northern mountains.

The building pressure in Edmund’s chest finally grew too great as Edmund’s heart finally broke.

How often had she sat alone in this room, with no one to play chess with, staring out at the mountains that led the way to Narnia? If she married Rabadash, she would never get the chance to visit Edmund’s home. If she married Rabadash...he would never see her again. 

Y/N was not a pawn, no matter how King Loon or Rabadash treated her. No, she was powerful and essential. Once she was gone, the game would be lost. 

She was a queen. 

And if Edmund could have his way, he would crown her himself. 

Crown her himself...

A light went off in his brain, the solution so obvious, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it already. 

He stepped in front of the window, turning to look at Y/N. “Don’t marry him.”

Y/N rolled her red eyes. “Gee, if only we hadn’t thought of that.”

Edmund grunted in frustration, bringing his fists up to his forehead. Considering how clever she was, he didn’t know how she didn’t understand. “No, you don’t get it.”

“It’s not like I can just waltz up to him and–”

“Y/N!” Edmund shouted.

“What?” Y/N snapped back.

“Don’t marry him.” He loosed a breath. “Marry me.”

Y/N’s lips parted in surprise, her entire face going slack as she stared at him like he was sprouting a third ear from his forehead. “What?”

“You’re right, there is nothing more valuable to your father than peace for Archenland. So we have to offer an alternative way of getting there.” Edmund spread his hands. “Surely your father would prefer marrying his daughter off to a powerful ally rather than appeasing an enemy.”

“B-but Narnia is-is already our ally.”

Edmund waved her words away. “In words, yes. But a marriage between the two countries? There’s no other move that would cement a relationship between our two countries more. It’s unquestionable. The Tisroc wouldn’t dare risk angering Narnia or Archenland, not when they would band together against him.” He waited for her to say something, but she sat silently, staring at him. “Y/N?” he said gently. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking…” She swallowed. “I’m thinking you’re crazy, and my father will never agree to this.”

“Y/N–” Edmund began, ready to reiterate the political benefits. 

Y/N pressed a hand to Edmund’s mouth before any more words could escape. “And I’m thinking I’m so lucky to have a friend like you.”

All the merits of this solution died on Edmund’s lips as he realized how soft her skin was against his slightly chapped lips. Swallowing hard, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand down to his chest to free up his mouth. “I’m all the better for having you in my life. When I’m not here, I earnestly miss you. If you went to Tashbaan, we wouldn’t ever see each other again.”

And that was a fate worse than death.

“But I would be a–”

“You could not ever be an inconvenience to me,” Edmund said gently, but firmly. The very idea was ridiculous. 

“What about other–”

“There aren’t any other women. I have no wife and have been courting no one.”

“But you’re a–”

“And you’re a princess. It’s perfectly common for a king to marry a princess.” 

Y/N’s bottom lip jutted out, informing him that he was indeed correctly guessing and answering her objections. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“This is marriage!” Y/N burst out. “You’d be tying yourself to me for life!”

Edmund swallowed against the trickle of fear that appeared. “I know.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed. “But, Edmund, you don’t want to be married.” The trickle morphed into a dull roar, and it took all of Edmund’s strength to keep his face neutral. How had she known? He’d never told her, never told anyone how he felt.

She was right, though. 

While Susan planned a pretend wedding, talked of having a ring on her finger, daydreamed of a husband, those things inspired no small alarm in Edmund. He could be outnumbered twenty to one and still prefer a battlefield to a chapel. To give that much of himself to a person, it was unnatural. 

The skin between Y/N’s eyebrows puckered. She timidly reached out, her hand stopping just before it made contact with his skin. “I can’t ask you to do this.”

Edmund looked at her, at his beautiful friend who never needed an explanation because she understood him so well, and he realized there was something bigger than that terror. 

“Y/N, listen to me.” Edmund took a deep breath, steeling his nerves and shutting down his fear. “Watching you fetter yourself to a man as vile as Rabadash would be…” 

A travesty. An abomination. A crime. 

He cast around for the right word, but no language in this world or any other possessed words strong enough to describe such a thing. “I can’t watch that,” he said finally. “I can’t…I can’t sit back and allow your father to give you away to a man as wholly undeserving as him.”

To be saying these things while her eyes searched his face was to be exposed. His face flushed, his body reacting to the embarrassment tossing and turning uncomfortably in his chest. He didn’t like this. Forget showing her the chinks in his armor, he’d stripped himself of his armor completely.

But it wasn’t for nothing.

She, in all her luster, was worth it.

Y/N remained silent, and Edmund could see all the thoughts swirling behind her cunning eyes. “Why do you think you could get my father to agree?” she finally asked.

He could see her wariness as plain as day, but her curiosity sent hope bolting through him. “Your father knows we are friends. He saw us dance at the ball. It shouldn’t take much convincing for him to believe that I want you for my wife.”

Y/N pursed her lips at that. “What if he says no?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Edmund told her. “I will be convincing.” That, Edmund would have no problem with. He knew the way King Loon’s mind worked. If the king could give away his daughter to Rabadash, Edmund could easily convince him to give Y/N to him instead. 

Edmund gripped Y/N’s hand. “Come to Narnia with me.” He couldn’t miss the spark in her eyes as he said it, the spark that matched his own. “You’ve always wanted to visit, but now you can actually come and see it.”

Y/N chewed on her lip. “Visiting and living are two different things.”

“We’ll come back here all the time,” Edmund promised. “Every time I visit, you’ll come with me to come see your brothers and your father.”

“But what about your siblings? What if they don’t want a sister-in-law?”

Edmund sent her a reproachful look. “Come on, my family loves you. You’ll fit right in.”

“But what will I do?”

“What will you do with what?”

She gestured loosely. “With my life.”

“You can do whatever you want.” She scoffed, and he scrambled to amend his statement. “You can do what you do every day here, just…over there.” Edmund should’ve started doubting himself under the rapidly rising incredulity on Y/N’s face, but how could he doubt this plan? To have Y/N with him in Narnia? They could play chess every day, and Y/N could tend a garden. All the royal events would be immensely more tolerable with her on his arm, and she wouldn’t have to hide behind a tapestry to know what was going on. Meanwhile, Rabadash would return to Tashbaan without another wife at his side. 

It was perfect, and Y/N’s hesitation was making less and less sense. 

“But we would be husband and wife,” Y/N said slowly and clearly. 

A smidge of Edmund’s conviction warped into confusion. “…yes, that’s the idea.”

“No, I mean…” Y/N dropped her gaze to their clasped hands and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly like she was trying to make the air last forever. “What if…what if you fell in love with someone else? What if there was someone you wanted to marry…and you couldn’t, because you married me?” She looked up at him, and the deep pink of her cheeks worried him. “What about children? Do you want children? Because there’s a very, um…specific way…children are had.”

Edmund felt his own cheeks flush. This was most certainly not an appropriate topic between two unmarried people of opposite genders, which Y/N knew or she wouldn’t have hesitated or stammered.

“That is what I mean by husband and wife,” Y/N said gently. “If we did this, you’d be saving me now but cheating yourself later.”

Edmund couldn’t believe her amount of foresight. He was on the verge of running to King Loon to ask for Y/N’s hand in marriage, yet here Y/N was, the one in actual peril, who was stopping to think about the distant future.

He took a moment to think about what she was saying, to consider the validity of her concerns. He couldn’t imagine ever regretting this, but there were a hundred what-ifs tangled in this plan. They could talk for days and still not mention every possibility of this arrangement. But the uncertainty was a small price to pay given the alternative. 

“I don’t have it all figured out,” Edmund admitted. “There’s a great deal we’d have to talk about.” He licked his lips. “But I’m willing to talk. We will find a way to make it work, I know we will, but right now, we don’t have time to iron out every detail.”

Y/N gnawed her lip, looking stressed.

“Do you trust me?” Edmund asked.

“Yes,” Y/N said, without missing a beat.

Her immediate confidence made Edmund feel like he could fly, and he had to take a moment to calm himself before continuing. “I believe this is the best way forward. Are you willing to try it?” Y/N searched his face, her eyes glistening with tears. Whether they were tears of anxiety, horror, anger, relief, Edmund didn’t know. “Y/N, please,” he begged.

Y/N swallowed. “Okay.”

It was such a simple word, but Edmund had never heard it said so heavy before.

“Okay.” Edmund straightened his top. “I’m going to go talk to your father.”

Y/N nodded mutely, her gaze lowering to one of the buttons of his shirt. 

Edmund hesitated, wondering if he should say more but also scared the tears in her eyes might fall. “Are you…are you okay?”

“I’m worried,” Y/N whispered. “There’s so much that could go wrong.” Edmund’s heart sank. Was he forcing her into this? Was he no better than Rabadash? In his attempt to relieve her of a burden, had he simply exchanged it for another one?

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes bright like the sun. “But I’m so grateful.”

Edmund stared down at her, transfixed by her shining face. As he watched, her lips spread into a small smile, and he was seized with a sudden urgency he didn’t understand. His brain was screaming at him to do something without telling him what that something was.

His legs shuffled closer to Y/N without his brain’s authorization, and he half expected her to step away.

She didn’t. Instead, she tilted her chin up so she could still look into Edmund’s face.

Why didn’t she step away? He was too close to her. He knew it, and she knew it, and neither of them were stepping away. If Edmund had all his mental faculties, he’d be able to read the subtext, but her perfume…

And her eyes…

Was that a tiny scar on the underside of her chin? He’d never seen it before. Where had it come from? How old was it? He longed to ask and hear the answer, but he was afraid. For him to know where all her scars came from, and for her to know where all of his came from, it was a different kind of confidentiality. 

A confidentiality Edmund didn’t feel ready for and wasn’t sure he ever would. 

And yet, confidentiality or not, they would soon be in a chapel, in front of many people, swearing to love forever. 

Reminded of his plan, Edmund shut his eyes and took a deliberate step back. “I have to go talk to your father.”

Y/N nodded, also taking a step back. “I’d ask if you want me to come with you, but…” she trailed off. 

They both knew King Loon would respond better to hearing from Edmund alone.

“This is the right thing to do,” Edmund said as he walked over to the door to go find the king. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Y/N, but she’d turned back to face the window, her silhouette standing out from the light of the sun streaming in through the windows. “You won’t regret it,” he said softly. 

He prayed to Aslan that was true.

-

Part 5

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

White Moves First tag list: @thelifeofsecretpenguins​ @read-just-cant @chesh-ire-cat @emotionallyattachedteen​ ​​

[ichorai]

hatred ; lloyd hansen. (m)

pairing ; lloyd hansen x mission partner!reader (afab / gn pronouns)

synopsis ; you wanted lloyd hansen. but god, did you hate him.

words ; 2.1k

themes ; smut </3 literally nothing else i hate myself

warnings / includes ; lots of swearing, hate sex, lloyd being mean and awful and violent, lloyd getting off on pain, mentions of fighting/death/murder/guns/injury, lloyd calls you a plethora of pet names, overstim and creampie, biting/scratching/hair-pulling, a tiny bit of dacryphilia and begging

main masterlist.

The silk sheets crumpled beneath your grip as you tightened your fists around the fabric, a low hiss spilling from your lips. You leaned back gingerly and tugged your shirt off with a groan, prodding the tender bruise on your side, grimacing at the blotchy, dark purple hue. The blurry memory of CIA’s top asset—Six, was what he was known as—roundhouse-kicking you into oblivion flashed into your mind, and you pushed it away just as quickly as it came. 

“Knockity knock, sweet cheeks,” your wretched mission partner, Lloyd, announced as he swung the door to your room open, ironically not bothering to knock at all. He strode in with a stupid grin etched across his features, kicking the door shut with the back of his heel. 

You scowled. “Get out, Lloyd.”

The way his eyes slowly slid down your body didn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“Not gonna do that, honey,” he quipped condescendingly, gaze trained on your chest, much to your dismay. “See, we had one goddamn mission to finish tonight—and you blew it. You should be fucking glad you don’t have a bullet in your head right now.”

Abruptly, you swept yourself off the bed and onto your feet, drawing yourself to your full height. “You think I don’t know that? Maybe if your pea-sized brain could remember to radio your location, then I wouldn’t have dropped the bomb. How about you jump down from that skyscraper ego of yours for a second and consider that we both fucked up?”

Lloyd stalked forward a couple paces until he was practically nose-to-nose with you. He was practically bristling, lips curled into a snarl and eyebrows knitted together. 

“I wish I never had to work with you,” he spat. “You’re a famous li’l bastard, you know that? Everyone you’ve worked with is now six feet under—and now I can see why.”

Before you could steel yourself, your palm came striking down his cheek, the slap ricocheting loudly across the room. His head pivoted to the side and his mouth dropped open, partly in disbelief, and partly from growing fury. Growing… arousal. The skin beneath where you had hit him immediately grew an angry shade of red, and he slowly turned to look back at you, eyes narrowed. 

“I hate you,” you said, so close to him that his chest brushed against yours.

Your eyes darted to his lips. 

He noticed.

“The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” Lloyd husked out.

And with that, he kissed you. 

There was not an ounce of affection in the exchange, all tongue and teeth, growls and grunts, bites and scratches. One of your hands pressed flush against his chest, bunching his ridiculously tight shirt into your fist, while the other snaked around his neck to yank at his short-cropped hair mercilessly. Lloyd seemed to like the pain, groaning into your mouth before kissing you harder, forehead knocking into yours. He shoved you with no care whatsoever, maneuvering you until your back slammed against the wall. 

A strained, involuntary noise of pleasure fell from your lungs as he shoved his knee between your legs, the hard muscle pressed right against your sex—practically dripping with need. 

“Look at you,” he purred, pulling away for a second to slot his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head up with a teasing smile. “You need something, sunshine?”

Before you could answer, he jolted his leg up, hitting your clit in just the right place. A strike of pleasure curled within your abdomen and you stifled a moan by biting down on your tongue, shoving a fist against his shoulder in a fruitless attempt to punch him. 

“Aw,” Lloyd cooed, “that’s not very nice.”

He was man-handling you again—this time, tossing you onto the bed as if you were a ragdoll. His hands clamped around your ankles, dragging you down the sheets until your ass was right at the edge of the mattress. 

His shirt was discarded somewhere to the side of the room, and whilst he began working on ridding himself of his belt, he looked down at you, sprawled out over the bed and chest heaving and lips kiss-swollen—fuck, his cock throbbed painfully just looking at you. With hooded eyes, you arched your back slightly to rip off the rest of your clothes, core pulsating with intense want.

You wanted Lloyd Hansen. 

But God, did you hate him.

Him and his stupid pet names for you. Him and his carelessness—his unbridled anger. Him and that horrible pornstache that he sported. 

You hated every bit of him.

As soon as his pants were off, you yanked him down, kissing him with wild abandon. Your nails scratched down his chest, leaving angry crimson marks in its wake. To your amusement, Lloyd only growled at that, moving away from your lips to lick a hot line down the curve of your jaw, and biting into your neck—hard enough to the point where you had to slap his shoulders with a hiss. He drew back with a smirk, a hard glint to his deep blue eyes, before dipping back down to press kisses into your collarbones. His hands gripped your hips, rocking you back and forth against his tented boxers. 

When he got to your breasts, biting into your warm flesh with a low, chesty hum, you slipped your hand down his chest, and snuck your fingers into his boxers, wrapping them around his thick girth, pumping slowly.

He groaned loudly, spitting out a long string of curses and grabbing your wrist, shoving your hand away with a pointed glare. 

Before you could register much else, his boxers were off and his dick was bouncing against his toned abdomen. You gulped audibly, inching away from him as you suddenly realized what you were doing—or, more accurately, who you were doing. A shiver spidered up your spine and you watched him with wide, cautious eyes.

“Nuh uh, honey,” he whispered scathingly, yanking you back to him and easily flipping you onto your stomach, despite your half-assed struggling. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He roped you back up until your back was flush against his chest, one hand wrapping around your throat and the other pinching one of your pebbled nipples, before crawling further down to your sopping cunt. 

“Oh, sweetie,” he crooned into your ear as his fingers ran through your slickened folds, hot breath fanning out over your neck. “All for me? Fuckin’ slut.”

Without warning, three of his fingers suddenly thrust into your pussy, and a loud groan left you as you struggled in his grasp, simultaneously trying to push him away and draw him closer. His thumb pressed against your clit and you lost all control, hands reaching behind you to claw at his neck and his scalp. 

“Beg for it,” he whispered, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Beg for me.”

As you squirmed, you managed to find a single thread of self-preservation within you. “Fuck you.”

Lloyd bit into your shoulder, as if warning you. “I won’t ask again, baby.”

When his thumb softly drew a circle around your clit, you could feel yourself giving in, melting into putty in his arms. 

A litany of pleads fell from you, and you hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t stop. You needed him. 

“Please, Lloyd, please—” A gasp cut off your words when he flicked your clit, dripping fingers drawing out ever so slightly before shoving themselves right back in. “Please fuck me. Please, I’ll do anything, Lloyd, I… please—oh—”

Seemingly satisfied enough, Lloyd began pumping his fingers into you rapidly, your wanton moans only fueling him further. Memory fuzzy with pleasure, you hadn’t even realized when your head lolled back onto his shoulder, his lips meeting yours in a frenzy as he fingered you. 

Your first orgasm came crashing down onto you like a tidal wave against shore, and you shook violently in his muscular arms, jerking away from his fingers desperately as the beginnings of overstimulation began creeping into you. He only stopped his movements when you roughly bit into his lip mid-kiss, hard enough to break the skin and draw blood. 

“Fuck!” he growled, glaring at you with genuine anger, tongue sweeping over the cut, copper hitting the back of his throat. His cock twitched, growing impossibly harder, and he ripped his fingers out of you. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

His fingers, creamy with your arousal, were suddenly shoved into your mouth and he watched with hungry eyes as your tongue swiped across the digits, taking them in deeper until you gagged. He bit back another groan. 

“You’re such a whore,” he murmured into your ear, slipping his fingers out of your mouth, biting your lobe roughly. “My fuckin’ whore.”

A silent scream left your mouth hanging open when he swiftly sank you down onto his cock, so thick that you could feel him throbbing inside you, feel every veiny inch of him as he bottomed out, one hand gripping your thigh and pulling your legs further apart so he’d sink deeper into you, and the other pawing wildly at your breasts. 

He cursed as you clenched around him, hoarsely moaning out his name.

“Say it again,” he whispered, pulling out halfway before sinking back into you. “Say my name again, honey.”

“I hate you,” you practically sobbed as he began thrusting into you in a near feral manner. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

This seemed to rile him up further, and the hand that was once at your breast found its way back to your throat, squeezing tight until black spots danced around your vision. Lightheaded, you let out a pornographic moan, hands scratching down his thighs framing yours. 

His hand inched higher up your own thigh, and he flicked over your clit as his dick pounded into you. 

“FUCK!” you yelled, reaching back to pull at his hair. Almost without realizing, you came around him for the second time, twitching in his hold. Overstimulated, you croaked out, “Lloyd—stop. Fuck, stop—” 

Lloyd merely chuckled against your sweaty neck, only spreading your legs further apart and driving his dick into you harder. “Take it, baby. Fuckin’ take it. I know you like this—you’re soaking me, honey.”

A moan twisted out of your dry throat. As overstimulated as you were, his words were only turning you on more. The filthy sounds of his hips snapping into yours made your head spin. 

“I hate you,” you sobbed again, knowing this would only drive him on, and you crumpled back into him, letting him use you like a sex doll. 

A stray tear slipped down your cheek and his hand left your throat to grab at your jaw. “Aw, are you crying, sweetheart? Fuck, that’s fucking hot as fuck.” 

Panting, you rocked back against him, eyebrows drawing together as your third—and hopefully last—climax rolled over you. This time, you stiffened against him as more fat tears rolled down your cheeks, clenching around him so hard he shouted out a creative line of swears before shifting into a different angle to hammer into you harder.

His dick twitched inside you—he was close.

“Fuck,” you muttered, slapping his sweaty shoulder, panicked. “Don’t you dare cum inside, Lloyd, oh—” You broke off into a groan and he swooped down to capture your lips in one last messy kiss, nose slotting roughly against yours. 

He grunted into your mouth, forehead resting over yours as his seed painted your insides, much to your frustration. Much softer this time, he slowly pushed his softening dick in and out of your abused cunt, nearly laughing when you started slapping him again.

“Fuck you. I fucking hate you,” you spat. He shut you up by enveloping your parted lips with his—you could taste the blood in his mouth. 

Eventually, he slipped out of you, peering down with a satisfied hum to see his cum spill out of your puffy folds. 

“I hate you,” you whispered one last time, throat scratchy with thirst. 

He patted your ass with a sickeningly condescending smile. “The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” he replied, an echo of what he said before. “Though—I don’t need to like someone to fuck them. Who knows… maybe I’ll even come back for sloppy seconds.”

With that, he unceremoniously let go of you, making you face-plant into the pillows. You twisted with a hateful snarl just in time to watch him stride out of your room stark naked, whistling a merry tune as if he hadn’t just fucked your brains out, not even bothering to pick up his clothes strewn across your floor. 

Pompous, arrogant, motherfucker.

You really fuckin’ hated him.

[ladylooch]

Omgg bless your heart. Okok I literally don’t know if I want something where Woody has to physically defend his girlfriend orrr if we do something like a slow/lazy rainy Sunday where the reader and woody are at home watching movies together or the reader is reading a book and it’s just full of fluff or they could be cooking like pasta and have some slow jazz music playing in the background, the vibe could still be the slow rainy Sunday. Idk I’ll let you decide, my heart is so broken I can’t think straight 😭

Days Like This with Miles Wood

A/N: Here @ Lady Looch, I like to provide, so I’m gonna do both for ya 😘 Especially in these dire times where our Miles is now on the Avs. How will we live without him?!

Also, I want Miles Wood to punch someone in the face for me. 

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: smutty themes but not actual smut, fighting, swearing, drinking, most of this is so fluffy you might get butterflies in your stomach. 

It’s a wild Saturday out in Hoboken. You and your boyfriend, Miles, are out at a bumping bar in the early morning hours. You have no idea how you’re still awake considering you worked long, overtime hours this week. You wanted to go home after the Devils win, but literally every single player and their S.O. was heading to the bar. You didn’t feel like you could bail.

You’re glad you came out though. The scene is fun and light. The boys are letting loose and Miles can barely keep his hands off you long enough to take a pull from his beer. His hands stroke the skin under the hem of your shirt, above the waistband of your jeans. 

“I’m going to get a drink.” You say close to his ear. Your lips brush against his lobe teasingly. He turns his face to press your mouths together. A coy smile pushes your lips up, making it hard to stay connected. His hand drifts lower and lower, giving your butt a discreet squeeze that makes you hot. “Are you good?”

“I’m incredible in bed. Thanks for asking. ” He retorts.

“Well, that I know. I meant your beer.”

“Nah, I’m good. Bratter just got me one.”

“Okay.” You press a final, quick peck to his cheek, 

As you walk, you can feel your body buzzing from both the alcohol and Miles. You can barely wait to get him home with how grabby he is tonight. You maneuver your way around a large group of guys who are so loud it makes your eye twitch. 

All of a sudden, one of them grabs you. He forces your momentum back like he is going to dip kiss you. His hand grips your wrist as he forces your momentum back towards the floor. You can feel your skin throbbing under his grasp.

“Dude what the fuck!” You shout, shoving at his face until he brings you back up. He releases you, laughing with the rest of his buddies like it’s such a funny joke.

“I need a smooch to complete my initiation bingo card! Please! You’re so hot!” 

“No.” You scowl at him.

“Damn, I’ve always wanted to fuck a WAG tho.” The way he looks at you sends a chill down your spine.

“You picked the wrong WAG to fuck with, bud.” Miles fist comes out of nowhere, straight into the guys face. His nose cracks open from the solid punch. Miles immediately reaches down for the guy's polo shirt, bringing him up to his face by his collar. “I should fucking kill you for touching her.”

“Babe.” Your voice is small, but Miles lets him go when he hears it.

“Your brothers here should teach you how to be a real man.”

Miles turns to you, cupping your cheeks, “are you okay?” You nod, gripping his wrists tightly for reassurance of his presence.

“I’m pressing charges.” The guy wails when he gets to his feet. “You’re going to hear from my dad’s lawyer.” Miles lets you go to turn back to the punk. 

“Go ahead you fucking prick. You assaulted my girlfriend first. I’ve got 50 witnesses here who will back me up.” The bar cheers loudly in solidarity with Miles. He stays standing between you and the group until he is sure they have all left the bar, escorted by security. Miles’ arms are around your body, enveloping you in his warmth. You feel relief course through your veins at his touch. Everything is okay now. Miles will keep you safe.

“Are you okay?” He asks again, chest heaving with adrenaline.

“Yeah.” Your voice is shaky as you tuck your hair behind your ears. 

“We should go home.” 

“No, I’m not going to let that guy ruin our night.”

“Stay close. Don’t go anywhere without me.” You nod that you won’t. “Do you still want a drink?”

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, let’s grab one.” Miles motions to the bartender who whips up another one that’s on the house.

You’re shaken up the rest of the night, which ends about 30 minutes later as the team begins to disperse. You and Miles take a cab back to your apartment. You get into the shower to scrub your make up off and the feeling of that guy’s hands on you.

Then you join Miles in bed where he wraps you in his arms, soothing away the ick on your skin the scalding water couldn’t.

- - -

The heat of Miles radiates up your back the next morning. He has you spooned so deep into his big body that you are crunched into the mattress, barely able to breathe. You wheeze in a breath, wiggling until his grip on you loosens a smidge.

Rain patters against the window. Your bedroom is dark with the gloomy clouds hanging over the city while your body aches from last night. A headache is pulsing along your temples and your feet hurt from standing in boots for so long yesterday.

Miles’ hand on your hip begins to move, tracing quick, light circles along your bone. You reach for his forearm, trailing your nails along his exposed skin. His nose comes along the back of your neck before his lips plump in a good morning kiss against your skin.

“Wanna stay here all day with you.” He murmurs. 

“Me too.” You wind your hand back to grip his curls in your hand. He moves from the back of your neck to the side, sucking your skin into his mouth. He doesn’t stop until he marks you just beneath the collar of your t-shirt.

“How are you?” You know he’s checking in again about last night.”

“I’m good. I know I’m always safe with you.”

“It took me a second too long to get to you.” His voice is harsh at himself.

“Your timing was perfect, Miles. Any second earlier and you would have taken me down with him.” 

“Cannot believe he touched you. Gonna have to tattoo my hands on you or something.” 

“That might be too far.”

“No.” He mumbles, squeezing you deeper into him again.

You both lay in bed for another few hours. You share kisses, dozing in and out of sleep wrapped up in each other. Miles’ hands explore your body, working you into a needy state so he can take you slow and sensually.

“I want coffee.” You mumble against his lips when you are both happy and naked. 

“I can go get some. I think we are out.”

“Yes, please.” 

His naked butt is in its fully beautiful glory as he struts to the closet. He pulls on fresh clothes and a hat, then comes back to you in bed, dropping a lingering kiss. 

“Mmm. Today is gonna be a good day. Just me and you at home.” His nose nuzzles yours before he begrudgingly leaves for the store. 

When he returns, he has much more than coffee. 

“So many goodies.” You murmur as you come into the kitchen in his t-shirt and a pair of leggings. Miles looks at you like you’re walking a red carpet. 

“Baby, how are you so beautiful?” He whines, tucking you into his side. 

“Oh my god, stop.” 

“No I’m serious. How are you real? How do I get to keep you?”

“Because you buy me things… and punch little shits in the face for me.” Miles’ explosive laugh fills the kitchen.

“Can’t wait to hear from his daddy’s lawyer.” 

“Show me what you got.” You say changing the subject back to lighter topics.

“Okay. So much. I got the tea you like.” He shakes the box at you. “I got orange juice and sparkling wine for mimosas. We have a box of cake mix and frosting. Honestly, I really just want to lick frosting off your body though, so we don’t even have to make the cake.” You snort, laughing into his side. “And I got all the ingredients to make you a special dinner we used to have growing up.” You take in the remaining ingredients.

“Chicken soup?”

“Close. Chicken Pot Pie.”

“Wow!” You give him a squeeze. “You’re going all Chef Woody for me today.”

“Mhm, my baby deserves all the comforts today. Lazy Sunday commence!” He yells as he pops the cork off the sparkling wine bottle.

“Wait, babe, where is the coffee?”

“Son of a bitch.” 

- - - 

The steaming pile of food on your fork is deceivingly bland looking. You hold it up to your lips, blowing it as Miles waits impatiently. He is a great cook, but it’s hard for him to have enough time to make dishes he wants to during the season. Quick, 30 minute meals are too simple and boring for his skillset.

You bring the bite between your lips, then chew slowly. Your eyes close and Miles starts chuckling. 

“I love when I can get your eyes to close. Is it good?” He leans forward, surprising you with his lips on yours. 

“It’s amazing, baby. Thank you so much.” You kiss him again. “Wow. He’s hot.. he plays hockey.. he can cook. Where are your flaws?”

“I’m hiding them from you.”

“In the closet? Is it like all your nail clippings?” You shudder.

“Ah, I was thinking more like I don’t actually know how to clean a bathroom…” 

“I already knew that.” You chuckle, taking another bite of your dinner. It’s somehow better than the first. “And as long as you keep cooking like this, I’m fine with that.”

After dinner, you both work together in the kitchen, listening to music and cleaning up. You tried to clean up yourself because he spent so much time shopping, preparing and cooking, but he wouldn’t let you do it alone. 

“Come here.” He murmurs suddenly as Love You Anyway by Luke Combs comes through your bluetooth speaker. “Wanna dance with you.” 

You step into his embrace, curling your head to rest against this jaw. One hand grips his and the other spread across his wide shoulders. He’s so muscular this year and you have to spread your fingers wide to touch as much of him as possible.

“I love you.” He whispers. “I’m so happy. Today has been so good.” 

You nod in agreement. It’s one of those days you’ll look back on after a rough day and it will bring you home to each other. 

The song ends, but you and Miles keep dancing in the kitchen for another few minutes, not wanting to let the other go. 

“I’ve got the rest of this.” He finally says against your lips. “Go get a bath ready for us.”

You oblige. You work meticulously to get the bath to the right temperature with the perfect amount of bubbles. You turn the towel warmer on, gather all the candles you can into the room and strategically place them for a romanic glow. The speaker plays soft, country love songs. 

“Hey, wanna do a face mask?” He asks when he comes in, pulling his shirt off his body. You pause him there, leaning forward to take a nibble on his pec. 

“Yes.” You finally answer, rummaging through the different options you have. You’re giddy because he never lets you do this to him even when you beg. For him to offer is so exciting! It’s been a dry winter, so you grab a hydrating one for you both. Miles makes funny faces at you as you brush it on him while sitting on his lap over the closed toilet. He’s too tall to not be sitting during this application. His fingers tease along your calves making it hard to focus.

“Gonna poke you in the eye if you go any higher.” You murmur when his hands get to your mid thigh.

“Worth it.” He grins, eyes closed as you apply the mask to his nose.

You both get into the bath, Miles holds you close against his body, stroking at your hips under the water. His eyes are closed as he hums along to Thank God by Kane and Katelyn Brown. You bring your hands to his, lacing your fingers together and sighing contently. 

“I needed this.” Miles murmurs. “I’ve been missing you so much on the road.”

“Me too, babe. This year feels like you’re always gone.”

“I know. I hate it.” He sighs, bringing your interlaced hands to your breasts. He grips them tight making you wiggle against him. His thumbs brush across the stiff beaks of your nipples and you moan. “Miss your pretty noises.”

The timer for the face masks goes off, halting anything further. You grab the washcloth on the side of the tub, taking your mask off, then helping Miles with his.

“Perfect.” You murmur to him, kissing his full lips so he can open his eyes.

“It’s tingly.” He says against your mouth. 

“Yeah, it’s meant to be.” 

“Like us.” He nips at your bottom lip. You know what he wants next. 

“You gonna keep playing with your dessert or you going to fuck me in our bed?” You ask against his mouth.

Miles smiles.

He doesn’t waste any time lifting your dripping body out of the bath tub, ready to cap off your great day with you sighing his name.

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

i was thinking about those eating competition/contest videos on youtube, where people eat so much food in 30 mins or an hour, etc. then i thought of steve/bucky/nat and eating contests. maybe one of them is involved, maybe multiple.

they have always been into eating and these seem like a good way to finally be full. they start out slow, maybe once a month participating to avoid piling on weight. they are good and win some contests, and start doing more. once a week they have an eating challenge. to avoid getting fat, they eat healthy during the week. maybe large salads to avoid too many calories but keep their stomach capacity up.

they have to take a break from the contests and all is okay still, but they get bored of the healthy eating. they decide to have a cheat week and just eat whatever they want. the weight piles on, and they decide they like it (their partners like it too) and they keep gaining.

I've been holding onto this ask for forever 😫 so sorry!

The eating contest component immediately made me think of the fic "No Contest" by caloriebomb, which is literally just FAT STEVE and I-

It's good.

Anyway, you know what this made me think of-?

This made me think, what about an alternative universe in which Steve, Bucky, and Natasha meet as competitive eaters? Maybe they aren't, like, famous competitive eaters but are just casual enthusiasts. Local gods, perhaps.

Anyhow, they all meet at a competitive eating contest...

Natasha seeks out Steve and Bucky intentionally when she sees the newcomers at an annual contest she's been attending for a few years. Not only are they new, meaning they don't know about her crazy stomach capacity and stretchability, but they're also both very handsome, and she feels like seeing some handsome men eat their words, literally. She wonders if either of them with blush. That, or if either of them will willing admit that they're wrong when they end up being wrong about her... maybe they'll just say it. Maybe they'll squirm 😈

So, she elbows them, offering a bet while the announcer is, well, announcing the event. I bet I'll eat more than you. She makes sure to smile softly. She doesn't want to give away her plans just yet. She's having too much fun.

The slightly shorter man with dark hair immediately agrees with a charming grin of his own. He looks her up and down and then gestures to himself, inviting her to do the same to him, raising silent eyebrows. It speaks only of, are you sure? The blond haired, taller man only stares at her. She can tell he is trying not to panic, having a pretty girl talk to him - it's cute. Normally, she'd roll her eyes, but there's something about blondie. Something about the brunette, too.

She likes them 😏

The brown haired guy nods when blondie doesn't do anything and says, under the announcers excited tone, that he'll bet.

"What're we betting?"

"$100?"

"Shit, I can't resist that," he says, offering his hand for her to slap in agreement.

She does. "And you're friend?" She bats her eyelashes at him, blondie, and watches him open and close his mouth like a fish. She almost laughs out loud. He's a golden retriever. Cute.

"He's in, too. Trust me."

Oh, yeah, this will be fun, Natasha thinks, and she has to look away because she doesn't want to give them her "predatory" smile. Predatory as her friends have told her it looks. What? She can't help that she knows she's right. She's gonna win.

Natasha learns the boys' names as they're announced to go on. Bucky, the brown haired one. Steve, the blond haired one.

So, Natasha meets and greets and beats the the boys.

At this competition they're eating poutine. Not Natasha's favorite, especially considering that she didn't grow up with it. It being just fries with shit piled up on it, but it's still pretty good. Poutine is good for shoving down. Good for contests like this one. Soft and relatively wet with good flavor. It means that fistful after fistful can go down before she has to take a millisecond break for water or before she can tire of the taste.

Natasha empties her first tray, then her second and third and fourth and fifth and on and on and on.

She smashes through it. Her stomach filling and expanding but not full.

She can feel Steve's eyes when they stray to her every once in a while. Flicking. Not checking her out, but, just trying to figure out how she's going so fast. Her fingers are a blur. Lifting fries to mouth again and again and again, shoving it down, getting it inside her. The faster, the better. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, she urges herself.

Suddenly, he opts to go whole hog, shoving her face into the fries and inhaling them.

She doesn't look at Steve.

She's not looking at anything but her prize, looking through the poutine servings just like a runner doesn't stare at the finish line, they look through the finish line that way they'll go the whole way with full power. She's going full power. She can see poutine when she shuts her eyes to chew harder, getting more into it. She is in the zone. So much so that she hardly feels the stretch of her flexible stomach muscles. Rounding out. Convexity created by the weight, the mass, of the poutine. No, she doesn't feel the stretch. She just feels the fire under her ass. She knows she can beat any beginner, but she wants to do her best. She doesn't wanna win a little. What's even the point in that?

She wants to win by a landslide.

A landslide that was slid right down her throat and into her gut. All that rock and earth heavy and full, making her massive. For anyone who didn't see her figure prior to the event starting when she gets uo, they're gonna question who let a pregnant lady join an eating contest.

She's still packing it in.

And, God, she must be massive with how those fries and toppings slide right doooown.

Down her throat.

She's getting heavier.

It has to be almost over.

It's been so long.

But-

She's not going to stop until the buzzer hits. She's not even going to look at the clock. No distractions. Not even the handsome boys to her right.

She hammers down more. She's almost done with this tray.

Another. Get is down. C'mon, you have this.

BZZZZZZ!

There!

Yes!

It's over!

Natasha finally lifts her head, "wooo," she huffs, feeling how her head buzzes with the rush of sensations. Now that the heat of the moment is done, it's all coming back. Woof. She's stuffed. She can feel the grease and fat going straight to her veins. She can feel the heavy, solidness of fullness. Wonderful. And-

"Holy shit!"

She can feel pure satisfaction at knowing she's won. Easily. She's a cat that's got the cream. A whole gallon.

She looks over to her new favorites. They're both sweating with messy mouths.

New heat stabs Natasha when she sets her eyes on the pretty gape of Steve's grease-slick, shiny lips. It's multiplied by the grin growing over Bucky's own lips. Equally shiny but not as plump. Steve's bottom lip takes the cake on that. And, my, my, my could it be cake. It looks soft. Natasha would like to sink her teeth into it. Into them both.

Natasha wins the eating competition and $200 extra from her new companions.

As they stand to waddle heavily off stage, Nat notes that Bucky has managed to do well. She can see the bloat of his belly. It looks nice and firm but still soft. He would be good to touch she bets. He had more padding than she initially thought, strong but still soft. Steve, however... Steve is not fairing well. He's probably eaten just as much as Bucky, perhaps even more than him, but he was not padded. He's all hard muscle with pounds of poutine attached to him.

Woof.

His new gut sticks out like a beer gut. Through his tight shirt that's been forced to expand enough to expose a few inches of pale, strained skin, she can tell that his abs are not happy with him. They're stretched taut. She licks her lip, picturing how pink his freckled skin must be, those muscles struggling to keep his belly attached to him.

That time, they part ways.

The next time they meet up, it's another competition. Bucky strolls up to her, Steve behind him like a trailing puppy, and confesses he's been training, patting his belly with a charming grin. She laughs, oh, really? You think you can beat me?

He does.

They end up betting again. Steve stays out of it this time, clearly the smarter of the two, Natasha teases.

Because-

Natasha wins again.

Bucky may have been training, but he's been training with water. Water is different from food. It goes down easier. It might be heavier than food, and it might stretch you out like food, but it isn't the same. Natasha blows him out of the water, pun intended.

She ends up with her gut sticking out past her tits, breathing hard and heavy and caressing the sides of her gut with her fingernails while Steve looks on, trying and failing to hide his interest. He's blushing now worse than he was immediately after eating.

Steve's muscles may not want to stretch, too used to being tight and perfectly sculpted, but he's stubborn, and he packs a lot down. Bucky, too. He's having an easier time, but he burps something crazy. Steve hisses out little moans and gasps. They're both delicious in their own ways.

They meet more and more and more.

They exchange numbers and constantly are texting and sending photos. Talking about training exercises and sometimes even showing exactly what they mean. Boasting about wins (Natasha) or near wins (Steve and Bucky) from competitions they all don't attend. Showing off photos of their guts post-contest then showing the subsequent damage days after they get stuffed full for contests. Their own and others entertainment.

It becomes routine to crash into an Uber on the way back from a contest, all together, making the car sink that much closer to the ground as a result of their combined weight. They go back to either Bucky's and Steve's apartment or Natasha's apartment to spread out on couches and floors and beds. Anywhere they can starfish out to digest. Sometimes separate. Sometimes, in one huge bloated pile.

After contests, Bucky burps and pats his belly hard like he doesn't mind how tender his gut must be. Steve, meanwhile, moans and gasps and complains about how much he ate, how he should stop, or how he can't believe he did it again, and he has the loudest gurgles. He can hardly seem to touch his own belly. It's too much. Post stuffing, Natasha would purr if she could, feathering her fingers over her stretched belly and taking the time to massage lotion into her skin. She'd purr because of the feeling of her own body along with the feelings of the bodies around her. Two big, big guys squishing her, confessing that they still don't get how she can just do that.

It's a gift. Her capacity and her boys.

Her boys because... aomewhere along the lines, they start becoming more and more intimate.

Steve begins letting Natasha rub his belly with lotion and moans like she's wrapped his dick up her in lotion-slick hand. If not her, otherwise he won't touch himself and will actively lift his heavy body up and away, groaning as he moves like it's the most difficult thing he's ever done, from Bucky. He does not want his gut slapped or prodded. He will burp when his body wants him to, thank you very much.

Bucky begins pinching her hip and telling her how nice she always looks but blushes when she does it back to him. Bucky starts unbuckling his belt and letting his pants drop after pushing up his shirt. Crashing hard and getting comfortable. He also gropes his gut in front of them both. Nat catches an eyeful of his dick getting interested in his rough touching more than once. Steve takes off his shirt but leaves his pants off. She isn't so thrilled about it though, she's curious if he's like Bucky. Truly into this. And she's slightly concerned those pants are going to cut him in half one day.

Soon after those developments, Natasha allows herself to slip out of her bra more often than not when they're crashing after contests. Bucky both jokingly and sincerely confesses that it's crazy hot that she can stuff herself so much that the band of her bra becomes too tight. It gives her enough confidence to slip out of her pants, too. Leaving her to join Bucky in just a t-shirt and underwear.

They begin to see each other at times other than post-competition, too.

Eventually, they're more often together than not. And one day, Steve blurts randomly, "are we dating?"

Bucky bursts out laughing, shaking his head, "when I left it to you to figure that out, I- I didn't! Think you'd!!-" he slaps his knees, laughing harder.

Natasha looks between them, crossing her arms, "so you've talked about this together. Without me."

They both stumble and stutter.

She relaxes, allowing herself to grin, "good. You're both on the same page then."

Steve mumbles about having a heart attack. Bucky smacks his shoulder, "serves you right."

"So..."

They stop behaving like children and snap to attention. Starting at her.

"Do you want to date?"

They both nod eagerly.

"Good. We'll keep doing what we're doing then."

And that settles it. They keep living in each other's pockets, and they keep going to eating contests. It's the same. Just as good. Until... something breaks.

Steve stops working out. Like that.

It's so sudden.

He shrugs and claims he just doesn't feel like it. He'd rather be home with them or out eating with them. He doesn't want to waste time at the gym. He's full of love. He doesn't need to obsess over a hobby to fulfill him any longer. Bucky and Natasha cuddle him extra tight that night. And night by night... Steve gets softer and softer. His abs fade fast. His trim waist widens a little. And. It breaks them. Natasha and Bucky become even more obsessed with Steve. There's more of him.

If they all also gave up their obsessions of eating healthy and being active during the week when they don't have eating contests... there would be more of all of them.

And they can't go back once they realize that.

More. There could be more of them all. More love. More to touch and hold and-

Okay. Yes.

With the ending of their self-imposed rules about healthy eating and exercising and the continued entering of eating contests, they all start feeling the brunt of those calories near immediately.

Steve changes the most rapidly because of his sudden dropping, cold turkey, of working out. His poor body. It doesn’t know what to do with continued heavy calories that aren’t protein; his body could work off the cheat meals of competitive eating contests and put it towards more muscle, bulking, but his body can’t deal with cheat meals every day. Stuffing himself every day. Moaning about it. Loving it. As a result, Steve’s waist actually gets wider. His abs are gone impressively fast, and he starts to look puffy. Thick like frosting. (Natasha certainly thinks he’s as good as frosting - he’s sweet and pale white, and she could spend hours and hours licking and tasting him). His waist as well as everything else. His hips and thighs and ass. His chest and arms. And his jaw. Oh my god. His face starts filling out, those model cheekbones filling in. It’s cute.

He looks so good.

The frame of a liftaholic, gym rat is still under his new weight, but it’s buried, leaving him wide and fluffy looking. It’s only when you press your fingers into his new fluff that you can feel those hard-earned muscles underneath, holding up his new bulk.

And as much as Steve’s chin begins to get a twin it’s worse for Bucky.

Bucky already was holding onto a lot of puppy fat, youthful with a soft, smooth belly and face. So, as his gain creeps up on him - gaining slower than Steve - his face is chubby. Full cheeks and a soft jawline that both Natasha and Steve are obsessed with kissing. Natasha has a thing for biting it. When they don’t have to go anywhere for the weekend or the rare alignment of their schedules off work, she’ll leave marks on his double chin and press on it with her thumb every chance she gets, admiring her handy work and feeling all the weight Bucky has gained. It’s not just his face, though. Bucky gets nice and wide, too. His shoulders widen, his back starts to arch and forms little rolls, his legs begin to soften, and his chest gets hit. But it’s really his gut. He gets a great, full gut. Along with his swollen gut come chunky thighs and an impressive ass. Steve looks like he’s been inflated like he’ll pop if you poke his constantly stuffed ball of a gut while Bucky looks like he’s been hitting beers too heavily for too long. Bucky is relaxed and carries himself with a jiggling, heavy swagger. Steve is seemingly in pain, in the best way. He’s moaning and working around his gut. He doesn’t know how to carry himself. His mind can’t keep up with his body.

Natasha gains right along with her boys, of course. Her tits get bigger - she gets stretch marks on the sides of them, right around her underarms - and for a while, unless she’s stuffed, you can’t tell her belly is getting soft compared to her chest because of the size of her chest. But. Her gut catches up eventually. Suddenly. Her body gains weight in her thighs and hips and chest until, bam! Overnight, she suddenly has more than a soft little curve to her belly.

Bucky goes from burying his face in her tits or between her thick thighs whenever possible to pressing his face against her tummy. It’s kinda the best thing he’s ever seen. Nice and round and balancing her top and bottom half. Connecting her curves with an even larger, more irresistible curve.

Steve is never as brash as Bucky. He is less shy than he once was, but he still blushes and still is shy, curling in on himself whenever he’s turned on and has the chance to touch Natasha or Bucky. It’s adorable. It brings out the sadist in her, wanting to force him to beg or wanting to encourage him, grabbing his wrists and making him grab her tits or belly or ass. It's her game to make Steve call her fat. His good boy manners and society’s conditioning leave him tongue-tied until he’s really, really strung out. She can sometimes make him stutter it after a good, long week of stringing together eating contests day after day until they might as well roll themselves home after the last one or after Bucky and her have spent the day winding Steve up. Stuffing themselves and complaining about how full they are, obscenely eating food. Touching each other or even straight-up having sex in front of Steve without inviting him in. Anything. Everything. Teasing Steve until he’s willing to admit she’s fat. Nice and round and plump. Whatever naughty, big word she can get from him, she cherishes.

She also cherishes all of Bucky’s words, but Bucky’s mouth is filthy. She needn’t encourage him to call her names that should make her upset but instead make her hot. She doesn’t have to do anything before honey is dripping from his mouth, and he’s making himself and Steve blush. And they all love it. Natasha often jokes that they have turned their lives into an orgy of gluttony. Bucky kisses her right on the mouth and wonders out loud if three is really an orgy. Steve just groans. The two of them together is too much and he’s had too much - his body is still the most sensitive, he’s gained the most weight, and they both seem to favor shoving food at him the most, so he’s never not stuffed full, lying back under his pale, mountainous gut. Steve is their bloated playground. They tease him. They mess with him. Stuffing immobilizes him. He doesn’t have enough self-control to stop until they stop him, so while they can crawl all over him and all over each other… Steve lies back. Panting. Moaning. Weakly shifting as his gut burbles and they kiss on top of him, pressing their guts together. Natasha will often ride him while Bucky fucks his mouth or fucks Natasha’s ass, struggling to get close enough to her now that they’re all so fat.

It’s a good life.

Big fat partners 🫠😵‍💫😵‍💫❤️

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 26 - "Inside Out" (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Today's @whumptober fic is a collab between me and @waffles-in-winter ! We have so much fun whumping Gojo together, and I hope you all enjoy reading this.

~~~~~~~

Gojo, Getou and Shoko’s current mission finds them in an old hospital, trapped within the domain of the Curse they’re hunting. Gojo is wearing down, however, with his constant use of Six Eyes, and when he’s badly injured in the fight, things come to an explosive conclusion.

~~~~~~~

Prompts Used: Working to Exhaustion, 'You look awful' Fandom: Jujutsi Kaisen Character: Gojo

~~~~~~~

“Satoru.”

Interrupted from their conversation, the two turned to him in slight annoyance.

He leveled his look, trying to fill it with meaning and threat and warning as he stated, “I think you should rest.”

With a rough sigh, Gojo whined, “This again? You don’t think I can pull a couple of all-nighters?”

“This isn’t some sleepover, Satoru. We need you when the time comes and if that means you sleep until one of us wakes you up—”

Gojo whacked his friend’s hand from landing on his shoulder, “And let one of you get all the glory taking the damn thing down?” Then he yelled around them, “Wherever the shithead is!”

Getou flinched, an instinctive thing he hated immediately after.

Gojo noticed. “Oh, you think it can hear us? Well then why has it waited so long to show its ugly mug, huh!?” Gojo spun around, calling up and down the hall. “Maybe the thing is a girl and hideous!”

Shoko muffled through her lollipop, “Rude.”

“Satoru, calm down.”

Gojo shrugged off his friend’s grip, cupping to yell down the hall, “Maybe she was hideous in life, and died in this hospital with no friends because of it! Probably deserved it!”

“Dude,” was all Shoko gave.

With worry stirred in his limbs, Getou faced ahead, then backward. Ready. And all he saw was the same dusty trash and flickering lights like before but...

“See?” Gojo grinned, stepping back towards them, “The thing’s probably afraid of me. And for good reason!”

Those round sunglasses stopped right in front of Getou to glare at him. This close, Getou could make out how deep the dark circles were.

But the bright blue eyes could still pierce him as Gojo growled, “Go home, Suguru. Take Shoko and leave. Why anyone thought you were needed here is beyond me. And actually, it’s... Oh what’s the word again?” He straightened up to rub his chin.

“You’re being an ass, Satoru. Knock it off.” Shoko called.

“Asinine.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s it. At least Shoko was helpful.” He tilted his head down, glasses low enough so he could meet Getou’s vexed look with bared eyes, pouting, “Helpful. Unlike you and your weak-ass ability.”

Getou fought everything in himself to keep from punching the other, but only because goosebumps prickled down his neck.

If before was a whisper by his ear, this was an inhale.

“What’s the matter?” Gojo demanded, inserting himself in front of Getou again, shoving him in the chest. “You wanna tell me I’m wrong? Your ability is literally just stealing other abilities from Curses—without them, you’d be nothing! Who’s the strongest one here, huh?”

“Take a rest,” Getou gritted out, feeling the convergence of something and wishing Gojo would shut up for a second so he could concentrate on where it was coming from.

“I don’t need a rest!” Gojo shouted, with a wild laugh, throwing his arms wide. “I feel great! And I’m gonna take down this asshole Curse myself and prove you two weren’t even needed here! I’m gonna—”

It happened so fast that Getou didn’t have time to react. A giant arm of tortured flesh and stitches shot out of the wall. The hand clamped around Gojo, crushing his arms to his sides, squeezing. Getou watched, open-mouthed, as Gojo’s face turned from manic fury to actual terror, a second before the thing crushed him in its fist. The action pulled a surprised, agonized scream from Gojo’s throat before it flung him to one side.

~~~~~~

Read the whole fic on Ao3

And go Check out waffle's other fics HERE

[becca-alexa]

Ride the Lightning

Chapter Five: School Daze

Read on AO3!

01 ┋ 02 ┋ 03 ┋ 04 ┋ 05 ┋ 06 ┋ 07 ┋ 08 ┋ 09 ┋ 10 ┋ 11 ┋ 12 ┋ 13

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Original Female Character

Summary: Eddie's begun to notice... something in Veronica that he's never felt before - what will he do?

Word Count: 4.4K

Content Warnings: [N/A]

Author's Note: yes🦇for🦇characters🦇realizing🦇their🦇feelings🦇i🦇live🦇for🦇oblivious🦇to🦇not🦇oblivious🦇romance

otherworldly thank you to @rollforhellfire for reading this -- your comments literally keep me going <333

    The heels of Veronica’s patent-leather Mary Janes echoed through the halls of Hawkins High, the droves of students seeming to part way as she moved about them with purpose - she clearly had somewhere to be, someone to speak to. Brushing back one of her braids, she rounded a corner, descended a flight of stairs, her pace quickening as the double-doors of the lunchroom fell within sight. And, tugging at the strap of her bag, she pushed her way inside.

    The lunchroom was bustling, as it always was at that time of day, tens upon dozens of students all eager to find something edible among the lunch slop. Looking across the room, she spotted her target - the raucous Hellfire table.

    “You can’t cast fireball for every move, dude.” Lucas said, stuffing a forkful of lettuce into his mouth, pointing the plastic thing at Dustin, who was cautiously flipping open what he’d been told was a turkey burger. “Think of something else.”

    Dustin scoffed at him, setting his lunch aside in lieu of a carton of chocolate milk. “What, like you have a better idea on how to beat the Drolem?” Looking beside him, he turned to Will for confirmation, and the boy nodded, midway through chewing his tuna sandwich. “See? Fireball’s our best option here.”

    “Might I suggest you rethink your strategy, my little sheep?” Eddie’s voice, clear and carrying across the table, silenced the chatter of the youngest among them, and his smile sent a chill coursing through their spines. “Need I remind you that the Drolem is part-dragon?”

    “Damn!” Dustin huffed, head falling into his upturned palms. “How could I forget?”

    “Told you.” Lucas said with a scoff, shoving a straw into his juice cup. “What we need to do is… uh…” His voice trailed off, eyes widening as he caught sight of a vision of… pink? He nudged Jeff at his side, who was equally - if not more - surprised to see Veronica Windsor at their table, arms crossed over her chest; she gave them all a little wave, her smile shy as she turned to face Eddie.

    “Lost your voice, Sinclair?” Eddie asked, his words trailing off into a chuckle as he shoved a handful of pretzels into his mouth, unaware of the table staring behind him. “Pity. You were getting so close-”

    “Munson.”

    Eddie choked on his pretzels, swallowing what he could, the rest sticking to the inside of his mouth as he all but coughed up his lungs, Gareth slamming his fist against his back to keep him breathing. Face aflame - and only partially so from nearly having lost his life to the snack - Eddie twisted around in his chair, eyes narrowed at Veronica, face set in a scowl.

    “Can I help you, Windsor?” he croaked, voice rough as he blinked away the tears blurring his vision. She reached for the back of his chair, pulling it out with more force than he’d expected.

    “Get up.” she said, emerald eyes sparkling as they bore into his, making him much too uncomfortable in front of his many admirers. “We need to talk.”

    Without another word, Eddie followed Veronica away from the chaos, the mass of students gathered outside having already dissipated, leaving them alone in the hallway. Eddie waited for her to speak, his hands shoved into his pockets for lack of a better place, and he rocked back and forth on his heels as he watched her dig through her bag.

    “So… uh… What’d you want to talk about?” he finally asked, trying to peek at what she was looking for, surprised when she pulled out a… a packet? And a heavy-looking one at that, he noted, confused when she handed it to him.

    “Midterms are in two weeks.” she began, voice clear. “And you will be passing all of them.”

    “O… kay?” He turned over the weighty packet in his hand, flipping through its pages. “And this is supposed to help me?”

    “This is all of the material that’ll be covered on the tests.” she explained, poking a finger at one of the pages. “I spent the week putting it together, so that we know what to focus on.”

    “Hold on, you… you made this?” Flipping through the packet again, he suddenly realized that all of the pages were handwritten, her penmanship impeccable, all of the problems clearly explained in the way she’d since learned he’d understand best. “Windsor, I-”

    She didn’t let him finish. “Until midterms start, we’ll need to spend our lunches going over this.”

    And he gaped at her, unsure he’d heard her correctly. “We need to eat… together?” he asked, brows furrowing together as she nodded, braids swaying with the movement. “Really?”

    “You want to get through that thing by yourself?” she asked, her voice as flat as it was blunt, and she bit back a smile as Eddie conceded with a drop of his shoulders.

    “Right.” His words trailed out on a sigh, and he rubbed at his forehead, willing away the headache he could feel brewing behind his eyes. “You’re… You’re right, as always.”

    “Look, Munson,” Veronica said, her voice soft. “You can do this, okay? This is all stuff you already know. We’re just… reinforcing it.” Her hand moved, hovered over his arm as if to give him a comforting pat, but it fell back to her side, the movement somewhat awkward. “Meet me at the library starting tomorrow.” she added, and gave him a smile as she walked back toward the lunchroom. “And don’t be late! The more time we get with this, the better!”

    Eddie gave her a weak excuse of a wave; after she’d crossed the double-doors, he fell back against the wall, hands dragging over his face, cheeks burning as he tried to collect himself enough to return to his table.

    If any of them noticed how utterly red Eddie was, they were wise enough not to mention it.

    “Christ, Windsor, can we take a break?” Eddie groaned, head falling to the wooden library table, his hair fluttering around him as it settled about his shoulders. “My brain’s melting out my eyeballs.”

    They’d been at it a week, their extra studying sessions. Everyday, they’d meet in the library to pour over the material, working through each of the questions several times over in order to ensure that he’d retain the information - and all of this on top of his daily tutoring. He doesn't understand why she’s putting in the extra effort, but he appreciates it nonetheless; he tries not to read too closely into the way her voice gentles when she’s explaining something to him, or how she’d take the time to go over a particular problem ad infinitum whenever he’d get confused. He tries to stay focused - Lord knows he does - but somewhere between Calculus and U.S. History II, his mind began to wander.

    Seated as close as they were, Eddie leaned his arm against the tabletop, head resting on his hand, eyes scanning the page Veronica was reviewing with him. He followed the path of her manicured finger along the lines of text, enthralled by how the light caught on the pastel yellow polish. Her hands, so small compared to his, were bare; he wondered absentmindedly if he should get her a ring, just to fill the empty spaces, the implications of such a gift lost on him. He tried to focus on the material, but how could he, when her voice sounded so sweet? So honeyed? Had it always sounded like that? Eddie shook his head, biting the inside of his mouth, forcing his thoughts back to the topic at hand.

    As she continued onto some Godforsaken equation, Eddie’s gaze moved to her head, trailing over her inky hair; she’d only braided a single today, just like she’d done on Halloween, the thing as glossy as it was thick, hanging over her shoulder and tied at the end with a ribbon in a color matching her blouse. How would it feel between his fingers, he wondered? Would she let him touch it, if he asked? Hell, he’d let her touch his hair any day-

    “Munson?” Veronica asked, her voice breaking through the pleasant haze of his thoughts. “Are you listening?”

    Obviously not, his mind blared. “Sorry, I… I think I zoned out for a second.” he admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck, a chuckle bubbling up from his chest as she shook her head, flipping back to the start of the section they’d been reviewing, beginning again in the same mellow tone of voice that had him bewitched; she’d only gotten through the first few sentences before she leaned back in her chair with a sigh, flipping the packet shut.

    “You’re not paying attention.” Fearing he’d upset her, he reached for the thing, flipping through it, searching for the page they’d been working from.

    “No, I-I am, I promise-”

    She’d reached for his hand, her touch warm against the chill of his rings, and Eddie had to suppress the shudder radiating at the base of his spine from the sudden contact. “We’ve covered enough for today - just finish your lunch, alright?” She smiled at him, soft and inviting, and he finally relaxed into his seat, prying open his metal lunch box and pulling out his usual baggie of pretzels.

    “Want some?” he offered, holding out the plastic thing toward her, biting back his grin as she took a few, popping them into her mouth, offering him bits of her own lunch in exchange - and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a… memorable day at school, sharing a meal with her, the conversation between them easy, their shoulders all but touching as they whispered to each other to keep from being shushed by the librarian. 

    They’d been going through it for hours, sitting on Eddie’s bed, pouring over what they had left of the packet, reviewing the material they’d already gone through. It was the night before the first of many midterms, and Eddie’s panic was palpable, with Veronica left to try and keep him calm enough to remember how hard he’d been working, reassuring him that he was more than prepared to take the test - Calculus, for Monday.

    Outside, they could hear Wayne shuffling about, mindful of how loud he’d set the television as not to interrupt their studying; when Veronica had first appeared at their door, he’d been surprised, sympathetic to his nephew’s academic situation, even a bit confused as to why she had agreed to take him on - from Eddie's grumblings, he'd been well aware of who she was. Now, he considered her as much a part of his family as his own flesh and blood. Hell, he’d even gotten her a mug to use whenever she was over. Setting a tray of pizza rolls into the oven, he sank back onto the couch, beer in hand as he watched the week’s baseball game, the soft echo of Eddie’s music fading into the background.

    “Did you remember to follow the order of operations?” Veronica asked, passing back Eddie’s scribble-heavy notebook, moving closer beside him to point out the equation he’d been trying to solve. “Here, you left out the exponent. Do that first, then solve the rest.” Taking it back, he wracked his mind for an answer, used his fingers to count, scratched what was left of his eraser over the page, not realizing his tongue had been poking out from between pressed lips all the while.

    “Like this?” he asked, voice hesitant as he passed the notebook back to her, tapping his pencil against his knee as she checked over his work, and his shoulders fell in relief at her smile.

    “Good job, Munson.” The look on her face, warm and gentle and proud, nearly turned his stomach to mush. “See? You got this.”

    He dragged a hand through his hair, cheeks flushed at her praise. “I just hope you’re right, sweetheart-”

    “Ed!” Wayne shouted from the living room. “Oven’s goin’ off!”

    "Be right back…!" Eddie jumped off the bed, shuffling down the hall toward the kitchen, and dug through the cabinets in search of mitts.

    “Everything alright in there?” Wayne called out from the couch, turning to look at his nephew over the back of the couch. “Brain’s not melted yet, is it?”

    “Everything’s hunky-dory, Dad.” he replied, pulling the tray out of the oven; his body halted mid-motion, steaming rolls in hand as he shook his head - he couldn’t help but smile at the thought that Veronica’s… unusual language was finally rubbing off on him. “We should be done soon, anyway.”

    “Y’ain’t lettin’ her take that bicycle home, are you?”

    Eddie let out an exaggerated gasp, mitted hands slamming against his chest. “And leave the delicate princess alone in the dead of night? How could I ever?”

    “Delicate, my ass.” Wayne mumbled to himself, satisfied with his nephew’s answer, taking another sip of his beer as he turned back toward the game.

    Setting the rolls onto a plate, Eddie made his way back to his bedroom, pushing open the door with his foot, not wanting to drop anything - but as he laid eyes on the bed, he paused, frozen under the open doorway.

    Veronica had fallen asleep.

    He set the plate atop his desk, his footsteps silent as he approached the bed, not wanting to wake her. She grumbled something, glasses digging into her skin as she pressed her face into his pillow, her body curled up, arms wrapped around herself for warmth. Without a second thought, he reached for his blanket, tugging it over her, ignoring the fuzziness settling in his chest at the sight of her snuggling so tightly to it, nearly disappearing beneath it. Carefully, slowly, he pulled off her glasses, frowning at the red marks they’d left behind, stopping only for a moment when she’d made a groan of protest before drifting away. He stepped back from the bed, unsure of what to do next; taking the pizza rolls with him, he left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

    “Somethin’ wrong with the rolls?” Wayne asked, catching Eddie sneaking the plate back into the kitchen, the food obviously untouched.

    Eddie shook his head, more than a bit dazed and confused. “No… uh… They’re fine, I think.”

    “You think?” Wayne lowered the sound on the television, turning to give his nephew his full attention, his eyebrow raised in question. “You didn’t try ‘em?”

    Again, Eddie shook his head, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Veronica’s not hungry.” he replied, his answer striking Wayne as uncharacteristic of her.

    “She alright?” asked the older man, shutting off the game altogether, rising from his spot on the couch.

    “S-She’s fine…!” Eddie stammered; Wayne didn’t believe him, doubly so when he’d tried walking down the hallway and was pulled back by the arm. “You don’t have to check on her.”

    “Eddie, what’s going on-”

    “She fell asleep.” His reply came so quickly, so hurriedly, that Wayne thought he’d misheard the boy.

    “She… fell asleep?”

    “In my bed.” Eddie clarified - as if his response needed clarifying.

    The older man let out a heavy sigh and dragged a hand over his bald patch, scratching at his scalp. “And did-”

    “I tucked her in.” he replied, pulling his hands from his pockets, nervously squeezing at the tips of his fingers.

    Wayne groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose, his shoulders dropping in exhaustion. “Ed, I swear to God-”

    “What was I supposed to do?” Eddie hissed, mindful of the volume of his voice, his face already beginning to burn. “She fell asleep!”

    “Wake her up!” Wayne replied, waving his arm toward the closed door of his nephew’s bedroom.

    Eddie paled, shaking his head. “What? No, I can’t!”

    “Well, she can’t sleep here!” 

    “You wake her up, then!”

    “It’s your bed, son - and she sure as Hell ain’t been tutorin’ me.” Wayne shook his head, muttering something about young folk under his breath as he walked into the kitchen, setting a few of the rolls onto a plate for himself. “It’s getting late. Poor girl needs to go home.”

    Eddie’s head snapped between his uncle’s retreating back and the hallway; he knew the man was right, and was certain that her mother would be worried about her being out so late. Still, it took every ounce of his will to march himself down the hall. So, with his lip caught between his teeth, he slipped into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

    Oblivious to the debacle that had occurred mere feet away, Veronica was still sound asleep, Eddie’s blanket clutched beneath her chin, face buried into his pillow. He moved toward the edge of the bed, taking in a deep breath, steeling his nerves as he brought his hand to her shoulder, giving her the gentlest of shakes.

    “Hey, Veronica.” he whispered, taking a half-step toward her, not realizing he’d called her by her name. “Time to wake up, sweetheart.”

    She grumbled something he couldn’t understand, and her brows furrowed together as she moved beneath his blankets. “M-Munson…?”

    “Mornin’, starshine.” His voice was softer than satin, and filled with a tenderness he - at least for the time being - chose to ignore altogether. “Time to go home. It’s way past your bedtime.”

    “But, we didn’t finish…” Her words trailed off into a yawn, and she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes, shaking her head to keep from dozing off. “My glasses…?”

    “I think I’ll be fine.” He gave her a smile, which she returned with a tired one of her own. “And, here,” he added, grabbing the pair from atop his nightstand. “I took them off for you. Didn’t look too comfy sleeping with them on.” She nodded her thanks, quiet as she slipped them back onto her face, pushing them up the bridge of her nose.

    “How long was I…?”

    Eddie looked at his watch, and gave her a shrug. “Twenty minutes, maybe? It wasn’t too long, I think.”

    “Christ, Munson - why didn’t you wake me up?”

    And his response was simply, “You were tired.”

    With an obvious reluctance, she peeled herself away from the warmth of his bed, sliding on her shoes as she followed him out into the living room; she picked up her jacket, stuffed her things back into her bag, moving at a snail’s pace compared to her usual energy.

    “Be back soon,” Eddie told his uncle as they passed by the kitchen, reaching over the counter to give the man’s hand a swat to stop him from eating what was left of the rolls.

    “‘Night, Veronica.” he called out, giving her a fatherly smile, hand raised in a wave.

    Her yawned reply of, “G’night, Uncle Wayne…” prompted a shared look between the Munsons, Eddie rolling his eyes at how the older man’s face melted at her words. Plucking his keys from the hook near the door, he led her out to his van, helped her into the passenger seat, even buckled her seatbelt, all while her head slowly began to bob. Hopping into the driver’s side, he gave the old thing a minute to warm up, the resulting silence between them… comfortable, even if she was half-asleep.

    The drive to her house was short, faster than usual because of the late hour; pulling up in front of her lawn, Eddie was quick to move to her side. As he opened the door for her, he reached over, giving her knee a light tap, the touch jolting her awake.

    “Huh…?”

    “You’re home.” he said, offering his hand to help her out - and part of him was surprised she’d taken it, holding onto him all the way to her front door. He stayed with her as she dug through her bag, mainly out of fear she’d fall over.

    “Shit…” she mumbled, shaking her bag around, face dropping into a frown.

    “What?”

    “Forgot my keys.”

    His gaze darted between her and the curtained window; he swore he could see the faintest gleam of light shining from inside. “Nobody home?” he asked, and with his mind clearly elsewhere, he reached forward, Veronica left pressed into his shoulder as his hand hovered over the doorbell. But, before he could think to press it - before she could think to stop him - the abrupt, rumbling avalanche of footsteps echoed from beyond the door, the wooden thing swinging open with so much force, Eddie thought it’d been torn asunder from its hinges.

    “Veronica…!” A woman yelled, pulling the girl in question into the house by the arm, all but crushing her in her vice-like embrace, pressing a flurry of kisses onto the top of her head. “Oh, I was gettin’ so worried when you didn’t call…!”

    Eddie couldn’t help but stare at the woman, draped in a silken lavender robe fringed in fur, the thing dragging along the ground as she swung Veronica about, bell-shaped sleeves reaching past her knees. Her mop of strawberry-blonde hair was piled high atop her head, wrapped in curlers wider than his fist, and her face was caked in some fluorescent-green goop he could only assume was a face mask.

    “Sorry, Mom…” Veronica mumbled, giving the woman a kiss on the cheek and frowning when she inadvertently tasted the mask.

    Mom?

    “And who’re you?” the woman - Veronica’s mother, apparently - asked, giving Eddie a noticeable once-over, hands settling atop her hips as her gaze upon him chilled, Veronica taking the chance to escape upstairs; Eddie’s eyes followed her silent retreat, and he swallowed against the lump of nervousness in his throat.

    “Hi, ma’am. I’m… uh…” he tries to say, wiping his palm against the side of his pants before extending it out to her. “I’m Eddie Munson. Veronica’s been tutoring me?” As he spoke, the woman’s face melted into something akin to excitement, and she shook his hand with enough gusto to throw off his balance, her cold scrutiny giving way to the brightest of smiles.

    “You’re the Munson kid? It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Her voice was high-pitched, energetic, and she didn’t let him go as she continued on, her cherry-tipped fingers still wrapped around his grip. “My name’s Lorraine - I’m Roni’s mother.” And, leaning in toward him, making quite the show of looking around to make sure her daughter was nowhere in sight, Lorraine stage-whispered, “She talks about you all the time!”

    “Mom!” Veronica shouted from upstairs, clearly having heard her.

    Eddie’s face flushed at the admission, and he cleared his throat before asking, “She… She does?”, his stomach flipping at the woman’s emphatic nodding. He shoved his hands into his pockets, taking in a deep breath before adding, “Sorry for bringing her back so late - I know she has a curfew.”

    Lorraine gave his shoulder a swat, her flouncy robe swaying with the movement. “Don’t worry about it! As long as she’s been with you, I think I can make an exception.”

    Eddie nodded in agreement, his smile finally breaking through. “Could you… uh… tell Veronica I’ll pick her up for school tomorrow? I forgot to put her bike in my van before we left.”

    Lorraine nodded, arms crossing over her chest. “Sure, honey. I’ll let her know.”

    He nodded again, his gaze moving to the empty staircase behind her before he finally turned back toward the street. “I guess I should probably go.” he said, adding quickly, “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Windsor.”

    “Get home safe, dear!” she called out to him, watching from the open door as he made his way back to his van, giving him one final wave as he pulled himself into the driver’s seat before shutting the door.

    Eddie turned on the van, giving the engine a minute or two to heat back up, his hands cupped over his mouth as tried to warm them; just as he’d moved to switch gears from P to D, he jumped at the sudden knock against his window.

    “Hey?” he asked, rolling the thing down, his voice still a bit rough from the shock of finding Veronica standing outside of his van.

    She bit at her lip, kicking her slippered foot against the front tire as she said, “Sorry for tonight.” With her head lowered, she missed his softening grin. “And thanks for the ride.”

    “Dad would’ve killed me if I’d let you leave by yourself.” he replied with a laugh, as though he’d ever have let her go alone, Wayne’s insistence be damned. “I told your mom I’d-”

    “I heard.” Veronica said quickly, cheeks still pinkened with embarrassment at what the woman had told him. “What time will you be here?”

    “Is 7:00 too early for you?”

    “I should be asking you that.”

    Eddie beamed a smile at her, shaking his head. “Right again, sweetheart - I’ll be here at 8:00.” he said, and leaned over the edge of the open window, arms folded beneath his head as he added, “A man needs his beauty sleep, y’know?”

    “You mean those dark circles don’t grow themselves?”

    “Exactly.”

    They stood in silence, their grins slipping as the conversation between them faded away, a chill blowing between them, howling through the trees.

    “You should get inside, it’s too cold to be out here in… are those rabbits?” he asked, eyes wide as he leaned over the window’s edge to look at her slippers, swallowing back a bark of laughter as her face burst red at his words.

    “They were a gift.” she gave by way of explanation, and that was that.

    Eddie pulled himself back into the van, finally pulling it out of park, his foot pressed flush against the brake. “I should probably go before Dad eats my half of the pizza rolls.”

    Veronica nodded, taking a step away from the door. Had he been any more distracted, had he taken a moment longer in buckling his seatbelt, he would have missed her parting words:

    “Goodnight, Eddie.”

    He turned to look at her, her voice echoing through his mind - it certainly hadn’t been the first time she’d said his name, but he’d never heard her say it like that. He blinked, his thoughts a confusing slurry as he somehow managed to return the sentiment.

    “...Goodnight, Veronica.” His voice was low, quiet, but she grinned all the same; she gave him a small wave as he drove off, and he watched from his rearview mirror as she walked across her lawn and back into her house, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to remember which way was home.

[behindthecremioda]

Survival rate 0% (first draft)

Disclaimer

As the title says, this story is a first draft.

So it's not necessarily canon what happens here in the work and I'm experimenting here, as this account was meant to be. 

For this reason, not everything that happens here will be pretty or make sense, and not everything will be complete. At least the story is being written.

The same goes for you writers who came across this story. No draft will and/or does not have to be perfect. In editing, you have every opportunity to shape everything as you please.

And on this account "BehindtheCremioda" I will take you with me on the way to my works every time. Or you can see more content here if some works don't end up on the main account after all.

Not only to motivate myself, but also all the writers out there. I believe that all writers will soon put their work in the public eye and even be proud of themselves and their work, no matter how much attention it gets.

So enjoy reading, find inspiration and, if you are a writer, have fun and good luck creating your work.

Who knows, maybe one of your works will be seen out there sooner or later.

Don't forget to eat and drink and have a great day.

Cremioda

Chapter [3]: Not over yet

The bright blue light greets us again, only this time it's the beginning of the whole thing.

Up close, it also looks literally glaring white, Minho can only squint his eyes at the moment as the source of the rumbling emerges.

Jeongin, who has transformed into Cart Titan in a flash, gathers the remaining six members of the group and sprints away from the source of the rumbling.

He would have run to the walls with the other members on his back, but in vain they break and large Titans the size of the wall now come towards them.

Without any words, the other members stare at Chan's transformation into his Rumbling form after they slowly open their eyes again.

The bright glow, which almost covers the light blue color of the light, spreads over the whole area and from Chan the light blue path of the path runs up to the sky; spreading far across the starry sky like a river that gets wider and wider.

"What have I done?" Minho murmurs to himself as his gaze runs along the coordinate like that of the others. But as soon as the Rumbling's slight earthquake starts and Jeongin slows down, all the remaining six members on the Cart Titan look at all the Rumbling Titans.

"If you hadn't killed him, none of this would have happened!" Han snorts out as he shoves Minho a little.

Minho raises his fist a little, but lowers it again and looks at Han with a piercing gaze.

"He wanted it himself! There was no other solution to this problem anyway!"

"No solution, my ass! It was Marley's fault, not Chan's!" Changbin now interjects cynically with a gesticulating hand, almost half-shouting at the approaching Rumbling.

"We don't have time for this discussion!", Jeongin intervenes with his deeper voice because of his titan, "What should we do about the rumbling now?"

Seungmin slowly stands up and looks at the others while holding on to Hyunjin's head, "We're the only ones who can stop the Rumbling now," he raises his eyes to all the Rumbling Titans, "We might be able to save Paradise if we act now. But to do that, we have to fight Chan. With the heat of all those Titans, we're more likely to burn, and as Titans, we can't stop them."

Without listening to any opinion or reaction from the others, Seungmin jumps off Jeongin's back and transforms into a Male Titan while jumping; Jeongin now turns his direction and follows Seungmin.

"That's Chan! We can't kill him just because he has the Founding Titan," Felix interjects this remark into the conversation and looks at everyone desperately, never suspecting to arrive at such a point again.

"But it's because of him that the rumbling was even possible," Han says, trying not to deny reality, "even though we wanted to avoid it as much as possible."

"Besides, we couldn't have known that such a reaction would occur," Hyunjin now joins in and strokes Felix and Han's shoulders once each.

"Let's not waste any time now," Minho doesn't remain silent, "I'm sure it will hurt him more than us if we leave him alone. He never wanted to kill anyone and he doesn't want to in the future."

As Han, Changbin, Felix and Hyunjin listen while Jeongin hurries closer to Chan with Seungmin, the four of them watch as Minho stands up and takes out his pocket knife.

"So let's free him from his torment and end it all here," determination flows in the words as Minho frowns slightly and examines his pocketknife, "Even if I have to kill him again."

Not a second later, Minho stabs the knife into his hand, dropping it in front of the others with his blood and the small lightning bolts crackling up in his hand.

"At least get yourselves to safety if you don't want to kill him."

All four listeners widen their eyes, Changbin still tries to hold Minho off, but he jumps right off Jeongin's back as he transforms into the Warhammer Titan.

After Minho transforms, he uses his Titan Hardening to form a large ramp from the ground up to Chan's Titan, preferably over his head.

But Minho would be gasping for air if he wasn't in the crystal in the ground as long as his gaze is directed upwards towards Chan's Titan.

Chan's titan was logically larger and this time wider in rumbling form. But he also has fleshy tentacles protruding from his Titan's arms, plus spirals wrapped in hardened shell between his shoulder blades, which serve as a protective shield around his shoulders and produce spikes along the fleshy tentacles on his arms.

And its chest, at least the middle of it above the sternum, is much more pronounced. The face is still covered in muscles, but they are clearly torn as if a knife had been used to constantly slash everything; even a few torn parts of the muscles hang somewhat detached from the face.

Is this even still the Founding titan?

But Chan doesn't do anything so far and somehow remains standing there.

Seungmin dares to come right out of the neck of his own titan and shoots the rakes of the 3D maneuver to the top of the ramp.

Feeling the time of one blink, he pulls himself right up after landing against the ramp, flying straight up to the head of Chan's titan after a few steps.

Jeongin remains standing at a distance with the rest of the members on his back, watching the action as long as nothing comes from Chan's side.

In a high arc, Seungmin swings directly to the other side over to the neck, lands on one of the spikes and slides down it while reattaching the rakes to the spikes to hold on.

Luckily, it's not as glaring as before, as the path has reached the sky. Which is also an advantage, as Seungmin can now look right at the neck of Chan's titan, takes out his blades and applies them.

In the next moment, he slices the neck of Chan's titan and tries to get Chan out of it after kneeling down. Seungmin gasps for air and widens his eyes a little.

Chan is not in the neck?

And the next moment, Seungmin is kneeling on a floor of sand. Pinches his eyes shut directly because the coordinate is in front of him; the Founding Titan's tree, its branches spreading far into the starry sky.

No rumbling, no earthquake, no noise.

Without hesitation, Seungmin stands up and walks away from the coordinate while the others are in their places as they are; Minho with his back lying on the ground and the others as they were sitting on Jeongin's back, only now he is no longer a Titan and he has titan marks, which are several lines from the side of his jawline and run up to his cheekbones.

Seungmin is held at a point on his upper arm, where he looks straight at it, blinking and then widening his eyes.

Chan holds him by the upper arm and has a bleeding scar on his neck where Lee Know tried to cut off his head earlier.

Ignoring Chan's expression, Seungmin hugs Chan directly and literally crushes him in the embrace.

Chan wasn't expecting this and leaves his arms outstretched, watching Seungmin, but returns the hug without any hesitation.

Seungmin hides his face in Chan's chest as he holds him tightly in his arms.

Chan slowly and gently strokes Seungmin's head as he looks at the others who come running to Chan and Seungmin and cuddle Chan and Seungmin in a group hug.

Chan almost flies backwards, the others are hugging him so hard and he tries to stretch his arms out enough to hug everyone once.

"I'll make the rumbling stop, but unfortunately that's all I can do for you," Chan says out of the void of silence as he strokes Minho's and Jeongin's heads, "You'll still have to keep killing me."

But suddenly other hands are stroking the heads of the others

Astonished, the others look behind them and see several Chans?

One Chan with blond hair looks like his entire eye has an infection, but still strokes Changbin and Han's head with both hands.

The other Chan with brown hair has a large stab wound in his chest, but he is stroking Felix's and Minho's head. Next to him, another Chan with blue hair has blood all over his upper body and face, but he still strokes Seungmin and Hyunjin's heads.

Speechlessness fills the group hug except for Chan who is still hugging his members.

[chrysochroma]

Kill The Rabbit: Eclipse

@febuwhump 2024: Day 8: “why won’t it stop?”

@badthingshappenbingo: left for dead (card is at the end)

Rating: Mature

Words: 3,389

Fandom: Original Work

Warnings: Arson, Death, Derealization, Panic Attacks, Scars, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

read on Ao3

A glowing ring of sunlight carved out by the moon’s shadow burned itself into Conan’s retinas as he stared into the sky. He closed his lighter and tipped his head back, then took a slow, deep breath, ignoring the white hare he knew was about fifteen feet away to his right. He closed his eyes, then exhaled.

Rai spoke up from next to him. “It’s so pretty, don’t you think?” He looked over to see Conan’s eyes closed and elbowed him in annoyance.

Conan didn’t open his eyes, but responded anyway. “I know, I know.”

“You’re not even looking!” Rai protested.

Conan turned to face him, opened his eyes for about two seconds, then closed them and laid down on the concrete of the school’s roof, letting his feet dangle off the edge.

Rai rolled his eyes. “Fine, then. But you’re missing out.”

“Mhm.”

Conan’s hand drifted to the string of jade beads around his wrist, peacefully reminding himself of the life he found himself in. He moved his arms up and folded them behind his head, using them as a pillow. In the process, one of his hands hit his backpack, which was laying on the ground next to him.

Conan’s breath hitched in his chest. He bolted up and ripped his backpack’s zipper open, then started tearing through its contents, something like desperation on his face.

Rai looked over his shoulder at the commotion, eyebrows furrowed. “Dude, chill out. We’re skipping, you’re not supposed to be thinking about school. This literally happens like once a year. Enjoy it, will you?”

Ignoring him, Conan started to flip through the pages of one of his notebooks, muttering under his breath.

“No, no, no-“

He threw the notebook down in frustration, leaving it open on blank pages.

Rai turned around, confused, and studied the notebook. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, and yet Conan’s face was tucked behind his hands like he was trying not to cry.

“Hey, are you okay? If you want to go back to class, we can-“

He was cut off by Conan’s sharp exhale, then the sound of him clearing his throat. His hands were clenched into fists, but he looked up and made eye contact with Rai, failing to keep his face blank.

“I just gotta go do something, ok?” He shoved the notebook back into his backpack, then zipped it up and stood.

Rai was still concerned, but he stood up with Conan. “I- ok,” He started. “If it was something I said-“

“No, no, it’s not you, I promise.” Conan gave a faint smile. “This was fun.”

“Yeah, uh,” Rai nodded. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

Conan stepped over the small step around the edge of the roof, then onto the first rung of the ladder, leaving Rai perplexed as the light returned to their world.

-

C8: DAY 1.

God, I’m an idiot. I forgot to put my backpack on at the end of the cycle, and now I have nothing except fucking algebra notes. I can’t believe that I forgot. I’ve been through 13 months of this bullshit and I still forgot.

Fuck.

Regardless, I must continue the game. I might die of boredom if I didn’t.

I wish I actually died.

I wish I could kill that goddamn rabbit.

-

C8: DAY 1.

I don’t want to die. Not here. Death always seemed like it could be an escape before, but not now. Now, who knows what will happen.

Fate doesn’t pity me. I don’t dare imagine what it’ll do next.

I can’t die again.

-

Conan dropped his backpack next to the door, then knelt down and took his math notebook out. He walked down the hallway towards his room, glancing at his reflection in the mirror on the wall. Then he froze, eyes locked on the scars on his neck.

Two semicircles of scarred puncture marks tore across the right side of his neck, connected by a couple scratches. The red of the scar tissue never seemed to fade, regardless of anything he did to get them to go away. It had been thirteen months, and he still wasn’t used to seeing them.

Conan had spent the past eight cycles doing his best to cover them up, even if he didn’t think anyone else could see them. He doubted that anyone would be able to notice them, but he told himself that it was better to be safe than sorry. That excuse was good enough for him. Anything so that he could offer himself a sense of familiarity in his world that was ever so slightly wrong.

He pulled his gaze away from the mirror and continued down the hallway, then pushed open the door to his room. He tossed the notebook onto his desk, then opened his closet door and picked a hoodie from one of the piles on the floor. He tugged it on and pulled up the hood, forcing himself to ignore his reason for doing so.

Conan walked back to his desk and sat down, then opened the notebook and flipped through the pages of algebra problems, finally landing on one with the outline of a building’s layout. After eight rounds of this, he had almost committed his school’s blueprints to memory. Around the map were small notes, all information he had acquired in previous cycles. There were three stars on the map, corresponding to the chemistry room, autos shop, and kitchen of the school.

He looked over the blueprints once more, then opened the drawer of his desk. He fished out a lighter from inside the drawer, opened it, then watched the flame dance for a second before he set it down next to the notebook.

His game had started once again.

-

C8: DAY 2.

Why won’t this stop?

I’m eight months into this, Ax. Thirteen months. Or, more precisely, 13 lunar cycles. 391 days and counting.

This is what death gets me, huh? I give up my life in exchange for a fucked up eternity and scars that will never go away. Because of course they won’t. I can lose all traces of my existence during the last 8 cycles, but not the scars. Naturally.

His bracelet stays, too. The only good thing.

Regardless, it’s amazing what I’ve been able to do—the game I’ve created. Everything gets erased at the end of a cycle, and yet I’m able to do so much more each time. I think I deserve something for that, don’t you?

-

C8: DAY 3.

I’ve started planning. It was so goddamn annoying to rewrite everything—the things I could remember, anyway, but I did it. As always, I’m going for a PR. Obviously, I don’t have the exact numbers anymore, but I believe my record was 175.5/100. I’ve also decided to update the scoring system a bit:

* classrooms- 0.5 each [90 total]

* cafeteria/gym- 5 each

BONUSES

* an entire wing- +1 each [+15 total]

* (8.5 per wing/per floor, 35 per floor, 105 - all rooms)

* the entire school- +50

* (165 total)

* if it reaches the football field- +7.5

* the entire football field- +20

* deaths- +25 each

* not getting caught after a week- +37.5

The only major change is the additional points for each death. I figured, people are dying anyway and it won’t matter because of the cycle, so why not add it to the total? It’ll introduce some new strategies I’d like to try out.

In fact, I think that I’m going to try a death-heavy approach this time, instead of going for the whole school bonus. That’ll require some extra planning, though, since that hasn’t been my goal before. It’ll be interesting to see if I can beat my high score with a new method.

Fulfilling the last condition requires that I do it by day 23, so I have it planned for day 20. I have 17 days to finish planning and gather what I need, which should be more than enough if all goes to plan. Wish me luck, Ax.

-

Conan had been laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling for close to 15 minutes when he heard the doorbell ring. He pulled himself out of his mind, then got out of bed and walked to the front door. He opened it to see Rai standing outside with an expression of vague concern.

“Hi,” Rai started.

“Hi.”

“Is everything okay?”

“What?”

Rai shrugged. “Sorry I couldn’t come earlier. You seemed … panicked the other day, I just wanted to check in and see if you’re okay.”

Conan responded quickly. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you sound kind of dead.”

Conan’s eyes wandered away from Rai, focusing on the neighborhood outside instead. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, then.” Rai paused. “Hey, are those scars?”

“What?” Conan looked back at Rai, eyes open in confusion.

Rai stepped closer, staring at his neck. “Did you get hurt? Are you okay?”

Conan stepped back. “They’re nothing. But … you can see them?”

“Can I see them? Yes, of course I can. Did something happen, do you need help?”

He looked at the ground, mind instantly consumed with questions. “No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I can-“

“It’s fine.”

He looked into Rai’s eyes, then grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door shut. He stood in silence, hand still on the doorknob until he heard Rai’s footsteps walking away.

Then, slowly, he turned and leaned against the door, then slid to the ground and brought his knees to his chest.

He might as well have been right back at the beginning of the cycle for all that he knew about his world. Rai had opened up a whole other universe of questions and potential truths that completely broke the every law of his existence as he knew it. His entire perception of reality was based in the fact that he was alone in this new life of his. But if Rai could see the scars, maybe he wasn’t alone anymore. Maybe he could tell him. He could explain everything, and then he would be okay. He wouldn’t be alone.

He’d understand, Conan thought.

He wrapped his hand around the jade bracelet on his wrist.

Right?

-

C8: DAY 5.

He wouldn’t lie. He has no reason to. Even if he did, why would he want to? According to him, we’re best friends. Just because he’s not the same, doesn’t mean his whole personality has changed. He would help me. He’s already concerned, just from seeing the scars. If I just explained to him what is going on, what I’m going through, he’ll be able to help me.

Maybe I can get out. Finally.

God, I haven’t been this hopeful in a while, Ax.

-

A ring of darkness cut through the bright white sky, a perfect inversion of the eclipse. Regardless of how much he hated it, this was something of a familiar sight to Conan. Ever since the cycles started, this was how the majority of his dreams began, haunted by the reflection of his own personal hell.

Conan sighed and started to look through the washed out trees, searching for anything out of the ordinary. He stared back up into the sky right as it flashed black, then into a solid, perfect light blue. The sun’s light flooded over his eyes, his pupils dilating at the sudden brightness.

A voice called out from behind him. “What are you looking at?”

Conan spun around to face Rai, who was sitting a few feet away, dangling his legs off the edge of their school’s roof. “Nothing.”

“Well come sit down, then. I want to give you something.”

“Okay.”

A faint smile flickered across Conan’s face as he walked, letting himself fall back into the past. After all, dreams like these were few and far between, and he welcomed any escape from his reality, no matter how false or short-lived it was. This dream was almost an exact reenactment of the first time they had had this interaction, save for one thing: the eclipse. It was better off if it was simply a normal day—ideally separate from the original. He preferred it that way.

Conan sat down next to Rai, looking expectantly at his cupped hands, even though he already knew what he was holding.

“I made this for you,” Rai started, opening his hands to reveal a string of jade beads with shocks of a copper color running through them. “It’s not anything special, but-“

“No, it’s great. Thank you.” Conan smiled and took the bracelet from Rai’s hands, then put it on and looked back at Rai. “I’ll cherish it forever.”

Rai’s face flushed for a second before he playfully shoved Conan away. “Shut up,” he laughed.

Conan laughed too, but his eyes were filled with a kind of sadness. “Seriously.”

“Yeah, sure, Conan.” Rai looked away from Conan and stared straight ahead, still smiling.

Conan smiled too, his face holding an expression one could only describe as knowing.

The bracelet around his wrist was one of his few constants. Since the original September 22nd, that bracelet had remained on his wrist, and he wasn’t planning on taking it off anytime soon. It served as a token of the fake world he was trapped in, but at the same time reminded him of all that he could get back if he just made it out. He received the gift just a minute before seeing the rabbit for the first time, right before he had doomed himself.

The rabbit. It was only about a few yards away, sitting on the ground to his right. Conan could picture it perfectly in his mind, but refused to relive that moment. He stared straight up into the sun, eyes wide open. His eyes burned, his vision white, but he endured, almost to the point of blindness. When he finally looked away, he saw nothing but flashing black and white. He blinked, his vision cleared, and his eyes met the blood red ones of the rabbit.

The sky flared the same bone white as the rabbit’s coat, with the blazing ring of the eclipse matching the scarlet of its eyes. Around him, an inferno roared, consuming the school and forest, with Rai nowhere to be found. He heard a growl from inside the fire. Conan’s eyes locked on its origin, and he watched, paralyzed, as an animalistic figure stalked through the flames, a lethal combination of elegance and determination. The rabbit was nowhere to be found.

Conan’s eyes shot open.

-

C8: DAY 7.

I’m aiming for a hot, fast burning fire. Based on trial and error in my previous cycles, some kind of oil will get me there the easiest. The smell of gasoline is too recognizable to be subtle, and oil is much more easily acquired.

I know that the autos room will probably have either anti-freeze, break fluid, or both, which takes care of most of the problem. Both break fluid and antifreeze have distinctive smells, but they’re less easily recognizable, so I’ll have to deal with it. Between the two, antifreeze smells less bad, so that’s what I’ll be going for.

I’ve never been into the kitchen, but they might have some kind of cooking oil that I could use. I don’t know about that, though. I don’t think that trying several completely new methods at the same time is a good idea. We’ll see.

There’s oil paint in the art rooms, which is flammable, but that might be difficult to utilize.

The chemistry rooms will definitely play a part in this, though. It’s easy enough to leave the gas on for an hour or two then spark a flame, and it’ll do a decent amount of damage.

However, between all of these rooms, there are large spaces without a decent way to enhance the flames, and those areas will need to be covered manually. That’s mainly what the antifreeze is for. I could also try and rig up an electrical fire.

Speaking of electrical, there is the question of how I can start that many fires at roughly the same time. I figured that I could try and design an electrical starter that I could set off remotely, letting me start several fires at the same time. Seeing as this is a new strategy with a different goal, I will definitely have to do things differently from how I usually do, but I don’t want to change too many things.

I’ll also have to disable safety measures for this to work the best, which I’ll have to figure out.

I have a lot of work to do. Until then, Anaximander.

-

Conan pushed the tip of his lock pick into the opening of the deadbolt on his desk. He maneuvered it through the keyhole, only stopping when he felt his pick turn. He took his pick out, locked the deadbolt, then started to pick the lock again.

Outside his window, fireworks shot into the sky, bursting in the glow of the red-tinged full moon. The sounds of the Moon Festival outside droned in the background as he worked, perfecting his abilities.

-

Conan’s phone chimed from beside him. He opened his phone, then clicked on the notification.

Rai: hey, have you been skipping?

He tapped out a response.

Conan: yeah

Rai: why? is something going on?

Conan: no

Rai: i’m here if you need anything

Rai: i won’t tell anyone, i promise

Conan: nothings happening

Conan: i’m fine

He watched the trio of dots on his screen dance as Rei typed out a reply.

Rai: i’m worried about you

Conan: you shouldn’t be. i’ve told you i’m fine

Rai: conan i know that something’s going on

Rai: please just tell me

Rai: whatever it is, i can help

Conan: no you can’t

Rai: conan stop it

Rai: i can tell that something’s up

Rai: talk to me

Conan: stop worrying about me

Rai: i can’t

Rai: i’m your best friend, and you’re clearly stressed or upset about something

Rai: i’m here to help

Conan: you’re not my friend

Conan: fuck off, rai

Conan turned off his phone and set it down on his nightstand, screen down. He decided that it was easier for him to have Rai out of his way for the rest of the cycle, so he could concentrate more on the task at hand.

-

C8: DAY 19.

Almost ready for the big day. I just have the standard final prep to do, not including what I’ll have to do the day of.

Not gonna lie, Ax, I’m excited. I don’t know if it’s because I’m trying out a new method, or if I’m trying to forget the setback at the beginning of the cycle. Either way, I’m anxious to see how this will go.

As always, Godspeed, Anaximander.

-

The fire alarm blared in Conan’s ears as he made his way through the back hallways of the school, almost drowned out by the piano and violin in his headphones. The beat of the alarm matched up perfectly with the tempo of the song, making a glorious symphony of chaos.

He jammed his lock pick into the keyhole of the roof access door and moved it around until he heard a click. He went inside, shut the door behind him, then took off his mask and shoved it in his backpack. He started to climb up the ladder, humming along to the classical mess in his ears. He reached up and opened the hatch, then climbed up onto the roof as a gust of October air swept across the roof. He slid down the ladder on the side of the building, then tightened his backpack straps and started to jog away from his burning school.

He pulled his headphones down to hang around his neck and turned back to the school. He scanned across the windows on the first floor, looking at his fellow classmates pressed up against them, in front of a roaring fire. He focused on the main entrance doors and made out a familiar face amongst the crowd.

Conan tilted his head to the side. He knew that he wasn’t really Rai, but he still hated to see him clawing at the glass, begging him for help. He smiled at Rai, reveling in his masterpiece, then turned away and ran.

[smolcuriouskitten]

In any other situation, his height and booming voice would send her running for the hills. Her trauma she had before she met him was deeply embedded within her. You know what cut a tad deeper than her trauma? Her ego. She will be dammed if she would let him get the best of her or make her feel silly for wanting to get to know her partner, so she stood her ground.

"Literally anything thing else other than that fucking information! I cant even get what kind of food you eat and thats not even difficult information to disclose! You can care for me until the cows come fucking home but without knowing my partner, how do I know your TRULY care for me?!" She yells back, stepping closer and felt her fists clench. A pause and her eyes widened for a brief moment as he claims that it is too much to ask.

The tears start to form in her eyes, out of sheer anger, and she pushes him out of the way, heading to the kitchen. She grabs a sharp kitchen knife and stands in front of him as he spoke. Her hands were trembling as she heard his next set of words. "How...dare you?" The anger thick in her voice from that assumption. "You think I havent been through shit? You think I havent been to hell and back at the hands of a man once before? Why do you make such a wild assumption? Is it because I still have my limbs attached with no bruises?" Her tone was hard to place, somewhere between angry and finding this entire thing to be hilarious. She laughs to herself a bit.

"Well, let me surprise you." And without another word, she holds up her hand in front of him and she slices it open, letting the blood drip from the wound. She drops the knife to the ground and holds her hand up for him to see. Surprisingly, the wound began to heal itself and close up, as if there was no cut on the hand. A narrowed gaze watches his movements, now the neko shaking with anger. "You dont know a damn thing about me. You think I am just some kind of sex toy whose just eye candy and hasnt been through anything in her life. I dont make such assumptions about you because at the end of the day, I dont know you. I dont know anything beyond the basics." She spoke through gritted teeth, backing away from him. If he looked at the ground, there would be burnt footprints where she was once standing.

"And you dont even know what I am. You dont know what I have been through or who I grew to become. Now we are both left with unanswered questions." She shoves past him and goes upstairs to her bedroom, slamming the door. The house would shake at the motion and burnt footprints followed her.

Now Rockelle was the kind of person to avoid arguments, she would ask questions when she could and try to make sense of a situation to avoid escalation. Andrei, however, was the opposite of her. Quiet and to himself, closed off and reserved, a tough cookie to crack. She made it work to the best of her ability but everyone has their breaking point. She wanted to know more about Andrei due to them skipping the stage of getting to know one another but it was becoming a chore with how he would clam up or not answer her. When she voiced her grievances about it, he exploded. It scared her initially, as he never raised his voice at her before. After that fear subsided, she could feel her blood boil at his anger due to how 'selfish' she felt it was.

"Andrei, my dear, you dont have to know what you are doing. I just want you to talk to me!" She retorts, her fists balling and mouth turned to a scowl. "All of what brought up?! I dont know a thing about you besides your name, age, and occupation! I understand some things are meant to be kept to yourself but dammit I am TIRED of trying to get to know more about you and you are actively withholding information from me! I dont feel pity or feel sorry for you, dont make assumptions for me about how I feel! Is it too much to ask to know more information about someone I love and care for?!" She fusses, now looking at him with narrowed eyes, her breath shaky from trying to control her anger in the moment. "Look. I dont know what happened before I came into the picture but no matter what you tell me, I wont treat or look at you differently. I get it, I can understand not wanting to be judged or seen one way but if I am going to be your girlfriend, you have to trust me. I may surprise you by potentially going through the same thing!"

[chaninfused]

im not arab but I'm muslim and from a muslim country and I get what u mean!! Like ofc out countries have issues but the way westerners and white ppl talk abt them is so iffy and most of the time they don't even care abt the issues but use it an excuse to be openly islamophobic. Not to mention a LOT of out issues r bcs our countries were colonised by europeans or our politics/governments were interfered with by america-

And it's so tiring when ppl constantly blame us for the destabilisation and issues in our country while completely ignoring the histories of our countries. And most of the time WE'RE the ones directly affected by the issues and yet we still get blamed for it. And the way so many (not all ofc) westerners literally don't care abt the ppl living in those countries trying to sort out the issue, they just like criticising them so they can seem """woke"""

I’m telling you, it’s obvious islamophobia and it makes me laugh. while we in the gulf might not have the same problem, I completely understand where you’re coming from. it’s not like we’re ignoring the issues in our countries, but really, some people make it seem as though nowhere else has problems and we just do because we’re islamic countries. I don’t know how the connection was made when literally some places oppress their people openly and only get called “interesting” and “weird”. 

islamophobia has become so normalized it’s honestly scary...