#you can't force people to build a house and you can't force people to beat the game 🤷‍♀️

[gnaga37]

also! for how much you can argue that mc is not really a sandbox, you can't artificially create goals for the players. you Have To create your own goals in the game. you're just making a new game otherwise.

[wallabywhump]

Post Episode 8x08 CODA/Continuation

Content: Light angst, Buck spiralling, Buck's abandonment issues/running thoughts/(has ADHD), BuckTommy hints at the end.

Word Count: 1,965

Started writing this when the episode ended, please enjoy!

---

The sign goes out front of Eddie's house two weeks later, Buck helps to dig the hole. Buck helps talk to the realtor. Buck talks Eddie down from a three-bed home with an attic office in a HOA suburb and helps him find a respectably sized two bed that will leave him with money to renovate the bathroom and add a ramp up to the door.

Buck bakes a million cookies and eats them while Eddie has meetings with realtors. He sets out sweet breads and muffins when Eddie has an open house, and he happily serves them to people, "yes, there is a gluten free option! I was playing around with xanthan gum, so it shouldn't- oh, you're too kind."

All through it all, Buck focuses on Eddie, and he tries to ignore the ball of panic that's growing and growing and growing, as Eddie calls his mom and dad, and talks to Chris, and they're discussing going to view the home together and-

"I'll be there in two days, buddy!" Eddie says to Chris, a smile wide on his face while he put the autographed picture of the Hotshots cast into a wallet to keep it safe. "I can't wait to see you; we can talk without it lagging."

Buck takes a deep breath.

"Buck's not coming, LA won't survive if we both are off work."

Buck takes the butter off the heat, starts mixing in the sugar.

"I was talking it over with Grandpa, and we can go to the aquarium while I'm there. I'll even get to cheer you on in your chess match."

Chris groans. "You don't cheer during chess matches, dad, you have to be quiet."

Eddie laughs, and Buck needs to savor that sound. Needs to bottle up the sound of his best friend, and the kid he loves to the moon and back, teasing each other because he doesn't know how long he'll have this for. "Well, okay, you'll just have to teach me what to do, Mijo. I've never been to a chess match before."

The flour comes out of the microwave and Buck mixes that in, the soothing fold-fold-fold making his raging heart beat easier to ignore.

"You've never played chess before," Chris teases.

Buck spares a glance at Eddie, and he's fondly smiling at the tablet, and he says, "Well, you'll have to teach that too. Need to understand how you're winning, kid."

Buck is trying his best to be happy for Eddie, desperately putting his issues to the side, he hasn't even mentioned Tommy with all the baking he's been doing.

Eddie, graciously, hasn't mentioned how Buck has gone back to how he was the exact week after Tommy dumped him.

Or perhaps Eddie hasn't noticed with all the preparation and the legal jargon and clearing out everything to make the house look pretty for viewings, and Buck-

Buck really wants to talk to someone.

Eddie's leaving, Bobby is busy building a house, Hen, Maddie, Chimney-

Everyone's moving forward towards something happier. And Buck's stuck trying not to tie his best friend to a city with his sad puppy dog eyes and a pout, all while missing his ex so much that focusing on Eddie leaving drowns out that pain and fills it with something different.

"Buck?"

Buck jumps, dropping his spatula into the bowl. "Huh? W-What's-"

"Chris hung up, he's got school tomorrow."

Buck picks his spatula up, continues mixing his cookie dough. It's as he folds a third time that he notices he forgot the chocolate chips.

"More cookies?"

Buck forces a smile on his face, ignores the floundering puttering in his heart that tells him he needs to call someone before this becomes unsustainable. Baking isn't distracting him, it's not-

He wants Eddie to stay, he wants Chris to come home, he wants a barbecue in Bobby's backyard with his family-

He wants to call Tommy.

"It's for the viewing tomorrow," Buck says, proud of how even his voice sounds, how it doesn't even sound like a lie.

Eddie sidles up to the counter, looking into the bowl. "You don't have to try buttering up potential buyers with sugary goods. I know you set a precedent for the first one, but I don't want you to feel like you have to."

Buck puts the bowl and spatula down and bumps his hip into Eddie's as he starts greasing up the pan. "If I sweeten them up, maybe they'll actually buy, and you can leave quicker."

The free-sounding tease is easy, it's easy to fake, it's been easy to fake since that day he picked up the tablet and saw the houses. It's been easy to fake since Tommy dumped him, and he had to crawl out of his home and go to work and look somewhat put together, so no-one was scared on their calls. It's been easy to fake since Abby left him at the airport, and with a home that wasn't quite his, and an uneasy feeling in his heart that she wasn't coming back. It's been easy to fake since he was sixteen years old, and Maddie was leaving and-

Maddie, Abby, Tommy, Eddie.

People leave, and that's okay, and it's selfish to force them to stay. No matter how much he wished they would choose to stay.

Buck scoops out a glob of dough and drops it onto his pan.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Okay, bud, I'm gonna have a beer while you finish with...that."

Buck sets up the mixer to bake a cake after he puts the cookies in the oven.

---

Buck drops Eddie off at the airport and spirals.

The goodbye wave feels robotic, despite knowing that Eddie will be back in a week, even if it's just to start packing up his life to move it hours away. His phone sits in the dock on the dash, and Buck-

Buck doesn't have anything to distract himself from the yawning emptiness inside him.

Nothing to put his mind to, nothing to focus on, just a whole lot of nothing.

The nothing that has been eating away at every positive thought and coping skill he'd put into trying to ignore how much he missed Tommy. The way Tommy would rub his arm and pull him in for a hug when he was feeling low. How Tommy would sarcastically tease him when his anxiety spiked, until Buck couldn't even remember he'd been anxious. How they could sit in silence and not have to chat, and it was just peaceful, and it put Buck at ease, and Tommy wouldn't even mention when Buck's leg started tapping, he'd just put a hand on Buck's knee and lean his weight into-

Fuck.

Tommy would have been a rock through this, platitudes about Eddie not being dead, stop panicking. "I can fly a helicopter, babe, just say the word and you can visit."

Except, Tommy isn't his rock anymore. He's a hurricane that has Buck unmoored and swirling in an abyss of panic and loneliness and, fuck, shit, fuck, Buck has to talk to someone. Or bake something. Or go to the middle of nowhere, with no reception, and scream at the sky.

Everyone's busy. Eddie's on a plane. No-one...he has-

"Buck?"

Buck jolts, staring down at the phone now in his hand, Tommy's face filling the screen, his nose scrunched and looking confused, concerned and cold all in one expression.

So closed off.

"I-I didn't mean to call," Buck whispers, his voice weak and thready even to his own ears. "Hi. Uh, I'll just, uh, hang up."

Except Buck doesn't, he stares at Tommy and feels his heart stutter.

Tommy raises an eyebrow, and Buck watches the cold melt off Tommy's face, leaving only confusion and concern.

"What's happening, Buck?"

"I...just dropped Eddie off at the airport, and I'm sitting at the drop off spot in the taxi ranks, and-"

Tommy's confusion disappears, and his eyes soften, and he's openly concerned and it's like a knife in Buck's chest.

Buck lets out a hoarse laugh. "I've held it in for weeks, not calling, and my best friend leaves and it's like I can't help it- Jesus." Buck runs a hand down his face, he feels like a mess.

"Why did you call me, Buck?"

Because it was habit for six months straight, because every time Buck's been sad since the breakup he's had to physically remove himself from his phone to stop himself from calling Tommy, because Buck just wants to have Tommy as his, and he can't seem to move on despite everyone else seeming able to.

"Everyone else...is moving forward, making families and living their lives, but I'm-"

Buck should hang up, forget about this, say 'sorry, bye asshole', and block Tommy's number once and for all.

Except-

"I'm stuck, stuck on that day in my loft, wondering what happened and how that occurred, and all I've wanted since the day it happened was to call you and fix it or-or, I don't know...I just feel so incomplete here. Unsatisfied. Nothing-nothing makes sense."

Buck rolls on.

"And Eddie told me not to call, so I didn't, except then Eddie decided he wanted to move to Texas and I couldn't be selfish and ask him to stay, so instead I've been helping him, helping him leave my life, because then at least I helped control it."

Buck chokes up.

"Because he's an adult with different priorities, and he can make his own decisions and it's my job as a friend to support him, and I guess you'd know that too if you still talked to him, or hey, maybe he would have stayed for you." He's fucking it up, finally got Tommy on the phone and rather than giving Tommy all the reasons they could work, and he should stay, he's dumping all his fears about Eddie leaving. "And I- I'm not making sense, I'm all over the place, this is not what I wanted to say at all, I had a whole speech about how I love you, and I deserved better, and-"

"Are you safe to drive?" Tommy asks, his voice cutting through Buck's monologue.

Buck bites his lip and nods his head. Of course, Tommy doesn't want to hear about his problems, they're broken up.

"Yeah, yeah, I..." Buck sniffs, wipes at his face despite it being dry, and forces a smile on his face. "I'm just a little sad, sorry for calling."

Tommy shakes his head, and he looks like he's in physical pain, and God, Buck feels like an asshole. He's so selfish, and he should have just thrown his phone out and got a new number after the breakup if he knew he was just going to trample over boundaries.

"No, don't be s- I mean, okay, okay. This sounds like- Eddie left? No, this is a conversation for in person," Tommy sounds just as confused and lost as Buck, which isn't nice, because Buck expects Tommy to be a rock, to be steady, to be- well, that went out the window the night they broke up.

"In person?" Buck wonders aloud.

Tommy hums, and his nose scrunches up, and he puts a finger to the bridge of his nose. The video feed is shaking like the phone in his hand is shaking. Buck swallows and waits for whatever emotional turmoil Tommy is experiencing to pass.

"Drive yourself to mine," Tommy orders.

Buck stares at the screen in shock. "W-What? Tommy, I- no, I-" A taxi starts honking their horn behind him.

"Mine," Tommy repeats, sure, and despite everything it makes that emptiness in Buck feel a little smaller, like Tommy is filling it with just the promise of a conversation. "Sounds like you need to get going. See you soon, Evan."

Tommy hangs up, and Buck spirals, but he starts the car anyway and drives to Tommy's with a spark of something in his chest.

[love-note-musings]

˙✧˖°📷 ⋆｡˚꩜ toby x reader // creepypasta oneshot

request: HelloI May i request a oneshot where toby pins the reader against a wall and maybe threatens her but she lowkey can't focus BC she's thinking how pretty he is? The reader has a love hate relationship with him. Sorry if it's confusing.

word count: 3.6k

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──────

     As the last costumer of the day left, your shoulders dropped as the tension ebbed out of your body, dropping the “customer service smile” you had plastered on for the last couple of hours. A lengthy sigh left your mouth and you shook out the tired feeling from your muscles and with a swift lock of the doors, you began your nightly routine of cleaning for close. 

      Working the night shift wasn’t so bad, you had thought, it was generally pretty uninteresting, living in a small town and all, the clientele were the same, jobs were casual, it wasn’t that horrible. Having worked at this quaint restaurant for a couple of years, you knew the ins-and-outs pretty well and you operated most of the tasks you needed to on autopilot. However, the job was one thing, and daily living was another. Of course the pay was less than what you needed to live on realistically, what with housing, insurance, and feeding yourself. You still didn’t mind the nightshift, you found it rather relaxing.

    Wiping down tables, sweeping floors and mopping, cleaning out cappuccino machines, all of it went by as fewer cars passed on the road. You could hear the breeze start of as a small gust here and there until it picked up into a violent wind that rattled the building. Soon, you figured it would begin storming, with big raindrops pelting down and you surely wanted to be in your own home underneath thick blankets before then. 

     Unlocking the back entrance, you began dragging the heavy trash-bags out in the back of the parking lot, the last thing you’d need to complete before heading home for the day. You could feel how the cold nipped at your skin and willed your legs to go faster. 

     The city was always quiet, it was still except for the symphonies trees played nearby in the forest, clanging against each other from the wind. There were stories of course, about people going in and never coming back, but there were lots of people who did come back, more so than the latter, so the locals knew it as folktales. In reality, it was just another ordinary small town, with small-towned people, small-towned restaurants, and small-towned ideas. Forest or not, it was also another small-town ideal.

     Swinging the bag into the bin, you closed it with a sharp bang just as the back door to the restaurant flew with a clang. The weather was worsening overhead with dark clouds hiding the moon and the wind was threatening to take you away with it. Your feet carried you back inside as fast as they could, one pounding after another. //

//     He crashed into the back door with a thud as his legs gave out, one arm trying to hoist himself up and another trying to stop his wound from exuding any more blood. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, but the exhaustion was creeping up his body, the lights had looked like crystallized diamonds hanging off of his eyelids, and he stumbled into them with reckless abandon before collapsing on tiled floor… somewhere. Vision swimming, legs crumpled underneath him, he sat there, body trembling and nauseated, trying to grasp onto his abdomen in an attempt to convince his body to let him back up, to keep moving. It wasn’t even that bad of a wound despite its length, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t  work with, but there he was, slipping on himself in the back of some beat-up building. The lights slightly flickered every few seconds, the buzzing of electrical appliances seemingly rang through his ears in tenfold, there was nothing in his stomach but his body forced him to empty it anyway, spilling out nothing onto the black and white tiles besides the gagging noises coming from him. He couldn’t stop the movement from racking his body once again as he dragged himself forward. 

     There was a scream, a crash maybe, all he saw was a figure with their arms raised high, ready to pounce on him, everything else was foggy besides the lights. Big, bright lights. Groggily, he looked up with lidded eyes, mouth slightly agape, nostrils flaring, trying to allow more oxygen into his lungs. He yelled at his brain to move faster and to process the situation, finding nothing once again but some static sound that filled it. Their mouth moved, and the sound flowed back into his ears, slowly, and then all at once.

     “I said—“ they cleared their throat “do you need me to call the authorities?” There was an umbrella raised threateningly in their hands, knuckles already turned white. It looked like their breath was caught in their throat and their body shaked. He slowly registered the information piece-by-piece, stringing together some semblance of thought. 

     Slowly, he forced his head to move side to side, shaking ‘no’. 

     “Are you hurt?” They asked authoritatively, despite the tremble in their knees.

      Again, another rather slow nod, another no. Hurt was subjective, after all. 

     Sighing, they lowered the umbrella just a little more to their side. “What do you need? Are you in trouble?”

     He ended up coughing violently, his head was spinning and he was mentally whacked. “b.. bath- can I use your b..athroom.”

     They stood off to the side and pointed towards it, watching his movements as he tried to force himself to stand upright. He managed to get up to his knees before crashing over again. 

     “I’m going to help move you there, okay?” they said as they set the umbrella down against the wall and moved closer towards him. He nodded once and they hooked an arm underneath his and guided him to the bathroom. 

     They turned on the light inside, indicated him to ‘be careful’ and that ‘there was a first aid kit under the sink’, before leaving him alone with a soft close of the door. 

     Toby gazed at himself in the mirror, bracing his weight against the sink before shakily turning the knob and splashing himself with cool water. How many days had it been since he had first left? He couldn’t even recall how long he’d been out, but it was long enough for his body to put the brake lights on his activities and start naming demands. And one of the demands was water. He earnestly started to drink the water from the faucet, cupping his hand and bringing it up to his lips over and over again.//

//     Meanwhile, an exasperated worker decided to flick back on the lights to the dining room and begin preparing a small meal to share with the guy who just stumbled into their restaurant. They didn’t really know what his deal was, nor did they care to know, they just wanted to give him something to eat before sending him back out into the storm. If he wouldn’t talk then maybe he’d eat and be able to go back home or something like that. Whatever the case was, it wasn’t your responsibility to know, but you’d also be damned for not trying to help him out just a little bit. 

     It took awhile, but the bathroom door finally clicked open and close again. Toby stumbled along the hallway and followed the light into the dining room. There were bandages wrapped around his abdomen and minor scratches on his legs and arms. His body was exhausted and his mind was more or less alert. 

     “Hey,” when you saw him feebly inch his way, you quickly went over and offered a hand, to which he shaked it off. Regardless, you told him where he could sit in the dining room,  a little booth by the kitchen door, and watched to make sure he settled himself well. You made a note of how determined he was despite his body practically shutting down, and he hadn’t tried to stop himself yet. Even as he fell into the booth, you watched as his body relaxed and his eyes stayed vigilant, always looking this way and that, carefully observing. It was fascinating. But again, it wasn’t your business. 

     You placed a plate in front of him with leftover food from the fridge and a pastry you had been saving to take home. “You have a drink preference? I can get you water.” He shook his head and you got him a glass of water anyway, of which he eyed a bit oddly, sipping little by little. When he saw the food, however, you noticed that he immediately went for the pastry.

     He was…strange, at the very least, that’s what you gathered as you watched him from the kitchen picking at his food and glancing around every couple minutes to double and triple check his surroundings. If you had to admit to yourself, you just wanted to go home, and by now it was raining, evident by the sound of raindrops pattering onto the rooftop. You were tired too, having worked all day, cleaning up and waiting on people, and now doing it all over again for a second time. Thankfully tomorrow you’d have a day off. 

     When he drank all of the water in the glass, you went over to refill it. “My name’s Y/n, what’s yours?” You asked with as much normalcy as possible, hand settling on your waist as you stepped back to watch his expression. 

     “Toby.” He muttered, before eating more and ignoring you. 

     “It’s nice to meet you, Toby.” 

     Sometime while you were re-cleaning the kitchen, you heard the bells on the door open with a clamor and close. Shrugging, you supposed he would have left, and you didn’t expect anything more from him. But now that you were thinking about it, it was kind of weird for someone to stumble in from the back of the building, but lots of things happened out in the forest. People go out with their friends, some people like hunting deer, who knows? Some kid could have just gotten mixed up with the wrong people and left out there. You don’t consider it much, but you sealed it away in the back of your mind as a little note for later as you left the restaurant and headed home. Personally, you had never experienced anything bad out there. //

//    It became more common for ‘Toby’ to show up after closing hours. Every few days or so, he’d show up looking tired and miserable, he’d ask to use your bathroom and then lug himself out to the dining room while you gave him the leftovers. You didn’t push him to talk about himself and settled for short conversations about the weather, or asking if he needed you to call anyone this week. Whenever you asked if he needed anything, he’d say no and continue eating solemnly, playing with his food and acting almost disinterested with it. 

     “What’s your favorite food?” You asked while chewing a piece of bread from the pantry. 

     Toby shrugged, “I don’t really have one.” 

     “There has to be something that you like at least? Can’t you think of something? I can try to make sure we keep some of it here.”

     He pondered for a moment, putting his fork down. You never questioned his sudden movements or verbal outbursts at all, figuring it’d be best not to pester him with questions since he obviously couldn’t control it, other people probably bothered him enough. Toby answered you quietly, “I liked that pastry you first gave me, I..I don’t remember when that was.”

     “Hmm.. okay. I can get it for you next time.”

     And the next time you did, and the time after that, until you were sure that he was sick of it every time you served it to him. But he never said anything and accepted it without a word.

    Perhaps you could say that the two of you had come to a mutual understanding, maybe a friendship, and you wouldn’t admit it to yourself that you looked forward to your short and awkward meetings. You didn’t know much about each other, but you felt comfortable despite his out-of-the-normal appearance and habits. It was non-judge mental, as far as anyone else was concerned, nothing happened here after-hours anyway.

     You found yourself tracing his facial features in your mind, promising them to memory and making mock-paintings in your mind. He had pretty eyelashes, his skin was pale and light, he had deep scarring on the side of his mouth, that’s why you assumed he wore the mask in public, you couldn’t be sure though, and you could be less sure about the googles attached to his jeans. The only thing is that you’d wish he’d eat more since it was obvious his health wasn’t the greatest. Whenever you saw him, he was almost always exhausted and almost ready to pass out. Although, besides the first time you met, you didn’t see him with any more wounds, so you supposed it was just some off-handed accident and nothing intentional. 

     Yeah, you politely admitted to yourself that you were quite fond of your new and odd friend. Perhaps attracted, whatever attraction meant. You found him nice to be around. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted him to feel the same. It had been a long time since you’ve had a proper friend. . . 

     Rock songs played from the radio atop the refrigerator, melodies soft and sweet, they played from collections of the classics and you loved it. During your shifts you’d lose yourself in the tune, pretending that you existed inside music videos and getting lost in a world where the waiters and waitresses were the main characters. You had asked Toby a while ago if he liked the station you left the radio on, hoping it was to his tastes. He had replied affirmatively, and you had kept the radio on that station every time he visited. 

     “Come on, get up.” you instructed, coming around the bar and onto the dining room floor. 

     “What?” He asked, nonetheless getting up from the barstool and following you along. 

     “You like this song, I like this song, let’s dance.”

     “But I don’t know how—“ Toby insisted as you took his hands anyway.

     You scoffed with a fool’s smile, “Neither do I.”

     At first you dragged him along around the dining room floor, navigating between the tables and chairs, tapping to the beat. He was awkward and didn’t know how to move his legs, flinging this way and that, but eventually he fell into your pattern and moved along. You both laughed, rocking your bodies to the beat hand in hand. Swaying left and right and once or twice trying spin each other. At one point, Toby almost toppled over into a couple of chairs, but you grabbed on tight to his hands and didn’t let go. A silly little smile spread across your faces and the two of you turned giggly as a new song started playing and the dance continued. 

     It was true—the two of you really didn’t know how to dance, and if anyone were to look into the windows they’d see two people who were wildly uncoordinated. You felt like you owned the world and that your body was perfectly aligned to the songs, you saw Toby and how he finally looked relaxed, mouthing along to the lyrics and shaking his arms around freely with his eyes closed. When you started screaming out the lyrics yourself, belting out notes pitches too high or low, he didn’t hesitate in joining you, resulting in one grand cacophonous harmony. 

     When Toby left later that night, it hit him in the face. Realization, fear, all of those types of things that crept up his back and settled into the crock of his neck before lodging itself into thought. That feeling, it settled inside of him and wouldn’t leave, it overwhelmed him and gnawed away at his stomach lining. Toby was never still, and it was more apparent now as the anxiety rose up his cheeks. He gulped, drank from the water bottle you had given him, slipped his hatchets into his belt loops and disappeared back into the forest. He always left his hatchets hidden behind your restaurant whenever he visited you. Just so you’d never see them with all the dents and stains that’d scare you away and leave him alone again. Toby really hated being alone sometimes.

     And Toby also knew who he was. It was evident by those same stains. It haunted him. He would never be able to sleep without seeing all of the things he’s witnessed, that he’s done. While knowing who you also were, he knew that you wouldn’t need him, that you’d need to help other people that got lost at night, who just need a helping hand. He’d hope you’d be able to help a lot more people than just him. You’d need to forget him, or at least you would, eventually. //

//     The night was quieter than normal. There was no radio playing, there were no cars passing by on the road, and there was no rain or wind, clear skies all day and all night. In short, it was boring. You were propped up by your elbow as you leaned over the bar countertop, idly skimming through the contents in some magazine left here by another customer. Only one customer remained, a pleasant old man who stopped by during the weekdays to watch the news on the television here. With a yawn and a tip, he left too, and you weren’t bothered to immediately lock the door after his departure. It had been a slow day.   

    He was behind the restaurant, hunched behind some garbage cans and waiting to hear the last car pull out from the parking lot. Everything was still and he was seeing the place for the first time with orange-tinted lenses.  He shook and shivered, bones rattling, and he couldn’t stop his arms from jerking even as he held himself together tighter. The last customer was gone. Now he just had to wait for you to come outside. Rocking back and forth to calm himself, he toyed with the fraying strings on the edge of his sleeves, occupying his mind and trying to distract himself from the bloodstains forming on his shirt and pants, not to mention the uncleaned hatchets that hung by his side. It wasn’t until a rather loud clang that he was snapped out of his trance.

Shooting up from his hiding spot, he made his way over to you without even a trickle of a sound. 

     All of a sudden you were shoved back towards the building, the air was knocked out of your chest from the force and you stumbled back. Toby had one hand blocking your exit, and another raised high above your head with a hatchet threatening to crack your skull open. 

     He stared at you, questioning himself, looking at you and then the hatchet and then you - you were terrified, and trembling, and god he wanted to disappear right at that moment, to drop everything and cling onto you. And he knew it wasn’t going to happen, but still his arms wobbled and there was a hitch in his throat. One hand slowly went to his mouth to stop the whimperings from escaping and the other slowly lowered his weapon until it fell onto the pavement.

     How could he be so stupid? He caved for the niceties, any inking of kindness and he instantly folded his hand. It wasn’t the terror in your eyes that had stopped him, it was just you. The way it felt to be so close again, how his body responded by going weak, he wanted to stay like that for a long time, he wanted to stay by you for as long as you’d let him. But he couldn’t do that, could he? Trust is a delicate thing. He knew that lesson well.

     You stood there with your back pressed painfully against the wall, your heart was beating frantically against your chest, your muscles were tense, your eyes were glued on Toby as he lost his resolve and crumbled down onto the ground in a heap with his head in his hands. Sobs wracked his body up and down and he heaved. Kneeling down next to him, you grabbed the hatchet and threw it as far as you could, considering for a moment if you should comfort him or not before placing a hand tentatively on his back, rubbing circles once he responded to your touch. The goggles on his face were fogging up, and you carefully found the clasp underneath a topple of tangled brown hair, letting it fall onto the ground as you wiped the tears falling down his cheeks with your hand and slipped off his facial mask. 

     His eyes did not meet yours, leaning over and making himself seem small. He sobbed until there were no more tears left, and even then his chest just heaved wildly as he struggled to find an even breathing pace. Kneeling closer, you wrapped your arms tighter around him, embracing, whispering in a soothing voice. 

     Toby wrapped his arms around your waist, slowly at first before completely enveloping you, resting his head into your lap. You felt nice, and comfortable, safe. He hung onto you for dear life.

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originally posted on quotev/citrusyfruits, reposted with permission

[tangerinesgirl]

Forbidden Fruit

Mr Reed x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+, explicit

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Mr Reed invites you into his house to discuss polygamy and the flaws of virginity.

Warnings: smut, virgin/inexperienced reader, age gap (reader is of consensual age), creampie (reader on birth control), dirty talk, blasphemy, possible spoilers for Heretic (2024)

"My question is how do you feel about polygamy?"

The snowfall gently beats against the tiny windows as you nurse the cup of tea Mr Reed has prepared for you. Using it as warmth rather than to quench your thirst. Even if he did seem like a pleasant man, you didn't entirely trust a drink a stranger has made for you in another room. You fear your instincts may be right when he asks you this question.

You place the cup down and clear your throat as you process his personal inquiry.

"Well, it's forbidden in the b-"

"Yes, but what do you think?"

He emphasises that word, pointing his index finger at you, before resting it on his lips, waiting for your answer.

A beat. Your eyes widen as you try to think of a tactful response.

"I um, I can't really say, it's none of my business what other people decide to do with their lives."

Mr Reed narrows his eyes slightly, not the answer he was looking for apparently.

"Hmmm", he takes a moment to have a swig of his tea from his inscribed 'hubby' mug. You look over your shoulder as if his wife would magically appear behind you.

"And I thought it was just because you've never felt the touch of a man."

You snap your head back around to face him, your cheeks instantly turning red.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry, I may have overstepped", he places his mug down and makes eye contact with you, emphasising his apology.

"I think I should leave", you start to get up, your legs shaking slightly from his statement.

"I understand my dear, let me just get your coat."

The couch creaks as Mr Reed also stands up, promptly leaving the room. Walking over to the door you watch the snow hail down. Not ideal biking weather but it's still better than being in here with him.

"Here we go, one coat", he holds up your woolen jacket passing it to you.

As you take it, he starts to wrap your scarf around your neck. You can feel his breath tickling your hair.

"You know", his deep voice echoes in your ears, "many religions don't believe in virginity. The Virgin Mary simply a mistranslation with the meaning changing over the years."

He takes your coat and starts to help you put it on over your arms, patting down the collar, hands lingering on your neckline a little too long.

"I think waiting for marriage is simply outdated, people should just seize the day. Life is too short for their lives to be dictated by an invisible omnipotent force with historic rules."

You cringe internally hearing him blaspheme your religion, you're just about to interject when he continues.

"It's simply too good to miss that closeness of two people becoming one", he walks in front of you as he starts to button up your coat. He looks down at you, still maintaining eye contact every so often while he fastens the clasps.

"The warmth of each other as you melt into one another's skin. The ache in your bones of needing them inside you."

You break the eye contact as you watch the veins in his hands clench with each turn. Your imagination in overdrive, you wipe your palms on your coat, nervously. Mr Reed notices and tilts your chin up to face him.

"The taste of them on your tongue, as you swallow each other's moans..."

His eyes drift towards your lips. Your body is screaming at you to leave, but part of you wants that sin, that forbidden fruit. You wrestle with your demons, but you find him oddly hypnotic and attractive. You guessed he was in his 50s or 60s, definitely older than you in your 20s, but that only adds to the temptation.

"... as everything builds and builds into one big explosion of ecstasy. That white heat of entering Heaven."

Your thoughts start to drown out as your lips crash into his. Head empty as your tongue starts to swirl around his, gripping the back of his head as the kiss grows deeper.

Mr Reed yanks off your coat, buttons popping off onto the carpet, but neither of you care. He breaks the kiss briefly, only to remove his glasses, before resuming with just as much vigor as before.

You can feel that heat starting from deep inside of you, just as Mr Reed was explaining, as you start to remove your blouse and skirt. His hands start to wander around your bra before unclasping the back.

Mr Reed starts to guide you back towards the sitting room as you continue to undress, removing your tights and underwear. You notice he doesn't remove his clothes as you feel the weave of his jumper, rough against your bare skin. You don't mind, you're too busy thinking of other things right now.

He quickly sits down on the sofa, holding your wrist, motioning for you to sit on top of him. Slightly apprehensive about riding him for your first time, you trust him and place yourself onto his lap, and resume the kiss.

Your hands start to pull down his trousers as his cock bounces free. Your eyes widen when you realise how girthy he is, his dick already rock hard and twitching with anticipation. He can't help but smile when he sees your reaction, as gently guides himself through your folds. The veins of his cock drag along your clit as wetness seeps out of you, preparing yourself for him. You hum at the feeling while he contently sighs at your warmth coating him.

After a moment, Mr Reed positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes you by the hips, guiding you onto him. His eyes roll into the back of his head as your cunt engulfs him, fitting around him tightly yet perfectly. You wince at first, but the further you sink down onto him, the better it feels.

You pause when he is fully seated inside of you, feeling his cock teasing at your cervix, before slowly starting to grind on his lap. You place your hands on his forearms for stability, as he starts to kneed at your ass with his fingertips, bruises threatening to surface under his grip.

The sofa creaks with every thrust as you ride his cock, your breasts bouncing with the effort. You let go of him to grip onto the back of the couch instead, his tongue licking at your nipples as you lean over him. His hands start to trail up your back, pushing you slightly closer towards him.

Your lips meet once again, but feels like you've never been apart. Your mind starts to wander again, thinking about what God would think seeing you give away your virginity to the first man to look at you with lust in his eyes. Then you think maybe God shouldn't even be looking in the first place as it's none of his business. You both wanted this, what could be more natural?

As your mind wanders, your body starts to tense up. Your orgasm creeps up on you, before you realise what's happening as your pace starts to stutter. Your walls clamp down around him, arching your back as you let out a guttural moan from deep inside you. You shake and pant as your cunt pulses out your release, soaking Mr Reed's cock.

He isn't far behind you as he leans back and moans in return, releasing warm ropes of his cum inside you. You don't mind as you have the implant, feeling his seed drip out of you and onto his trousers, as you start to come down from your high.

You straighten yourself up, tucking your distressed hair behind your ears, watching him finish inside you. He lightly groans at the effort of filling you, it's almost enough to make you aroused again.

He slowly exhales and opens his eyes. They crinkle as he smiles at you, laughter lines standing out, you begin to memorise each wrinkle. Tracing your fingers along them, almost like reading a palm. Neither of you care that he's still seated inside of you, growing soft. Or that the snow has eased off and your bike was just outside the metal lined walls. Mr Reed grins at the fact he has you wrapped around his little finger, knowing now that you could never leave. Proving that power really is the one true religion.

[into-the-grey]

~Tightrope~

Noah x F!Reader Fic

Summary: I got sick, and he left me here. Am I really too broken to be loved?

W.C: 4.7k

Taglist: @anything-more-than-human @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers @thisbicc

Warnings: sadness, angst, disability, medical topics, possibly incorrect medical info, depiction of cardiac emergency, talk of overdose.

PLEASE UNDERSTAND, I'm not glorifying disability. I'm venting. The disability depicted in the story is my own, and it pisses me off to no end some days, so I wanted to write a lil about it and make something cathartic.

Masterlist

I'd watched him countless times on that stage. I'd watched him psych himself up, getting ready to give the performance of his life every single time. I couldn't help it, he was magnetic. Something about the mysterious person he became when he stepped out into the eyes of the people, it's like he became this untouchable being, the king in his castle.

I'd watched him despair when he couldn't do it. Whether he'd blown his voice out, or he burned himself out trying to do everything all at once. His house of cards had come tumbling more than once, but never enough to bring everything to an end. Every time, I watched him build it back up, meticulous in his method.

I watched him learn, grow, and evolve. And every step he took, I took with him. I wanted to be there, supporting him like a good friend does.

And then I got sick. And then I fell apart. 

I didn't get cancer, or some kind of terminal disease, it wasn't that dramatic. It was simple, yet so frustratingly limiting. My body wouldn't agree with me, forcing me to stand still when I wanted to run with him on his ever upward trajectory. All because of one small malfunction in my hardware.

My heart. Literally. A tiny piece of scar tissue, likely caused by a dumb choice I'd made when I was younger involving some Lexapro and an ex-boyfriend's snide comment, had begun to generate its own electric current. Because, in case you didn't know, that's how your heart works if you dumb it down. Little electric currents run across it and stimulate the different chambers, starting at the top and ending at the bottom. Humans create our own electricity, and that's what keeps us alive. Neat, huh?

When it works the way it should, sure. 

But mine didn't anymore. This stupid piece of scar tissue was generating its own current, and it made my heart beat out of sync. It was scary as hell when we first found it. I couldn't breathe, and my heart was pounding in my chest. I tried so hard to play it off as anxiety, I didn't want anything to be wrong with me. But Noah...

He called the ambulance; he held my hand through the scans and the blood tests and the ECGs. He stayed with me in that hospital for four days while the doctors decided how bad it was and what to do with me. He held my hand when they told me the prognosis. He celebrated with me when they told me I wasn't in immediate danger, and he kept me calm when they told me the risks.

Yeah. Apparently, it's not meant to be dangerous, and it's an easy fix. Mine didn't want to be easy. Mine was infuriating, because while it was only a minor problem and an easy fix, the wait for the surgery was never ending. I had to live with it, and the medication, and the anxiety, every single day. I hated every moment of it.

Feeling defective isn't easy. You feel like everyone is looking at you like you're about to break. It makes you think you might, that you're this fragile thing, one breath might knock you down. And the side effects of your body not working...

You lose muscle tone, you gain weight because you can't go to the gym anymore, your skin gets aggravated from lying on pillows all the time...

You spiral, because the world goes on without you while you're waiting to be fixed. You want to run with them, but you can't. You want to be a part of it, but any odd feeling in your chest scares you. You spend so much time in hospital because doctors always say "It's probably nothing, but just to be sure..."

And then when you see the people you care about, you're not you anymore. You're different. You feel ugly, you feel like a freak. Like this broken doll, cast aside and waiting until someone comes along with a needle and thread to fix you.

Noah had to keep living though. He went on tour, he ruled his kingdom, and when he came home from his tour, I swear he looked at me with pity. It broke me. I was his friend, and suddenly it was like he didn't know how to talk to me anymore. It was like he was worried that almost every topic would upset me, or trigger me, and nothing I said could change it.

If I could have gotten drunk over it, I would have. Stupid fucking medications.

We didn't speak for a while. I felt so alone. Sometimes I caught the three dots in our conversations. He'd type something, think better of it, and delete it. It hurt more every time.

He was the one person who I never thought would see me as something broken. I wondered if maybe the weight I'd gained had embarrassed him, even though it wasn't much. I wondered if maybe I just wasn't the person he wanted to be seen with anymore. 

I just wasn't enough, I guess. Maybe I never had been.

Swallowing the crush I'd had on him when we were teens was hard enough, but this? I couldn't swallow losing him like this. Not over something so fucking stupid.

So, I texted him, asking if he was busy. And thus, the ball rolled.

Hey, are you doing anything? - Y/N

Not at the moment, what's up? - Noah

I was hoping I could talk to you about something. Can I call? - Y/N

Of course, is everything okay? - Noah

Not really... - Y/N

Should I come over? - Noah

Your call, I'm fine either way - Y/N

I'm on my way, be there in 15 - Noah

A part of me rejoiced, seeing that he could still read me. 'Your call' was once a distress signal for the two of us. A sign that we were sinking alone, and we needed a friend. He'd been the one to start it, and it stuck.

So, he did, I waited in my apartment for Noah's truck to pull up in the visitor's spot outside. While I waited, I ran through everything I wanted to say to him. I tried to figure out how to say it to him. Part of me wanted to beg him just to see me how I once was, to look at me without the pity in his eyes. Another part of me was tempted to tell him that if he couldn't, he could go fuck himself.

I couldn't do that though. I'd miss him too much.

I wrapped myself in my knitted blanket, curled up on the couch with a pillow in my lap. The Great British Bake Off played on my TV, filling the room with a warm hum of sound. To an outsider, the room full of plush pillows and soft blankets seemed welcoming. The pictures on the walls were cozy, and the black suede couch begged to be reclined on in luxury.

To me, it was home. In the same vein, it was hell. 

This apartment had become my prison. I had nowhere to go anymore, nothing to do. Normally when I wasn't at work I would bounce back and forth between the studio and Noah's house, or I'd be out on adventures with him and the band. Since getting sick, I'd been stuck here. I worked from home because my boss was too afraid something might happen to me in the office. He framed it as a generous offer, trying to be kind and thoughtful, but I knew he just didn't want to deal with the insurance paperwork if something did happen.

I had spent months in this solitude. I had nothing to break up the monotony of my days. I thought being disabled was bad enough, the depression that came with the isolation only made things unbearably worse. All I saw every day were the same four walls, the same programs, the same rooms. I was getting cabin fever and there was nothing I could do about it. The most I ever left home for was groceries and doctor’s appointments. Not exactly a thrilling existence.

So, when I saw the headlights illuminate my curtains, a part of me lit up. It was sick how excited I got at the idea of a visitor. I was like a puppy hearing their owner come to the door, practically unable to hide the vibrating eagerness in my chest.

Noah's truck rolled smoothly through the parking lot and into the visitor parking on the other side of my living room wall. The joys of ground floor living, I saw everything that happened in the complex.

The truck door slammed, and his footsteps trudged along the stamped concrete, making his way to the buzzer at the security door. The steps seemed slow, almost unwilling to be there. For a moment I wondered if I should tell him to go home, that it was nothing and he didn't need to worry about it.

Instead, I stood up and shuffled my way over to the intercom by my front door. The panel lit up with a video feed as the bell chimed. I saw Noah standing by the door, his feet shuffling awkwardly in his sneakers while he kept his hands jammed in the pocket of his hoodie. His head hung, staring at the concrete while he waited for me to let him in.

I could have lifted the receiver and said something. A long time ago, I would have made a joke, I might have said something vaguely pervy like "ooh, you look better when you're awake," and he would have laughed. Instead, I silently pushed the button to unlock the door. He reached for the handle, yanking it open. I heard the click in the hallway as the video feed shut off, and I opened the front door to my side.

His oversized form dawdled toward me, his head still down and watching his shoes. Everything about his stance screamed that he wanted to turn around and go home. It had my stomach sinking as he grew closer.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were ringed with purple bags. He looked exhausted. He looked at me with a tired smile, nodding at me. 

'Hey,' he said quietly. 

'Hey,' I said, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders and smiling weakly. I stepped to the side, letting him step into the apartment. He slunk past me and headed straight to the couch, plopping down and patting the cushion, inviting me to sit beside him.

The front door swung closed, and I twisted the lock before joining him on the couch. Turning the TV off, I shifted to face him, choosing to rip the Band-Aid off. Seeing his hollow eyes made it harder, but I was determined.

I swallowed, balling my hands into fists beneath the blanket and hanging my head. 

'You've been avoiding me,' I said flatly. 

Noah froze, leaning back and shifting his position. He turned, one leg bent on the couch and the other foot on the floor while his hands hung in his hoodie pocket. I watched him open and close his mouth a few times, clearly caught off guard by my words.

'I...' he stammered out, unable to finish his sentence. He was going to say he hadn't been, but he couldn't lie to me like that. He'd never been able to.

'I wish I could say it's okay, but I can't help wondering why,' I said, chewing on my lip as I looked at him. It was out in the open now, and I felt the weight in my stomach. My heart pumped hard in my chest, the sensation making me nervous as I monitored the beats. 

'I didn't mean to,' he said quietly. 'We were busy, and things slipped, and I didn't know how to come back.'

I shook my head. 'Noah, I know you. Distance has never been an issue for us, and it's not like I'm across the country this time. I'm right here, and you haven't come to see me. You won't even text me back. It's like you don't want to be around me-'

'I do, I swear,' he cut me off, his hands tensing in his pocket. 'I just...'

'You just what?' I probed, trying to keep my voice steady. My throat tightened, and my voice threatened to crack. 'You don't want to be seen with me anymore? I gained weight and I got boring-'

'No!' he said, shaking his head and freeing his hands from his pockets. 'God no! I don't care about any of that, you know I don't! Why would you ever think that?'

'Because I feel like that?' I shot back. 'I feel like this damaged thing, and no one knows what to do with me. You backed off when I got diagnosed. It makes sense that this stupid thing is the reason. So, what, you're scared I'm gonna drop dead? You think I'm broken? You think it's too much to handle? To gross to look at?'

The words spewed fast, and Noah's face fell as I spoke. He watched as my breath came quick and I stumbled over my tongue. He reached for my hands, fishing for them in the blanket and taking them in his, holding them tightly.

'I just feel like this burden that no one wants to bear. People treat me like I'm made of glass, and they're too scared to handle me. Or like I'm not me anymore. It's fucking lonely, Noah. You were meant to be my best friend, and you fucking disappeared on me. Tour is one thing, but no calls? No texts? It's like you think I died.'

Noah shook his head, shuffling closer.

'I didn't mean to; I swear to you-'

'So why?' I coughed. All too aware of my own body, my chest ached, and my stomach turned. The defective organ screamed at me, and my brain begged for calm. The odd palpitation in my chest rang alarm bells in my mind, scaring me worse. Had I worked myself up into another hospital visit? That was the last thing I wanted. I needed answers, not more pity.

'Because I was scared. I still am. But not for the reasons you think,' Noah finally admitted, hanging his head in shame. His thumbs ran over my knuckles, my skin pale compared to his inky works of art. His hair hung like a thin curtain in front of his eyes, hiding his expression from me.

'Why, Noah?' I begged. 'Because if this is forever, I need to know. I need to be able to stop hoping we'll go back to how it was.'

'It's not forever,' he told me, his voice low. 'It wasn't even meant to be this long. I got scared because when I saw you that way, I didn't know what to do. For the first time ever, it was something I couldn't handle.'

'There's been a lot of things you can't handle,' I said, squeezing his fingers in mine. 'I don't expect you to be able to handle everything.'

He nodded, lifting his head and shaking his hair from his eyes. 'I know, but I couldn't fix this. I can't fix this. That scares the hell out of me. The idea that at any moment, you could go blue again and your heart might fuck up in a way that I don't understand... I was so sure I was about to lose you, Y/N...'

'So, you pushed me away instead?'

He nodded again; his lips tight as his eyes glassed over. 'I know, it doesn't make sense.'

'It does, but it still hurt. Out of sight, out of mind, right?'

'I guess,' he said. His shoulders slumped. 'God, I'm such an asshole. I made this all about me, and you're the one in danger.'

I rolled my eyes. 'That's the thing, Noah. I'm really not. Sure, I have to be a little more careful and I can't have caffeine anymore, but I'm still me. I'm not dying, I'm not going anywhere, I'm just waiting until they can fix me so I can do the things I used to do.'

'I wish I could get that through my head,' he sighed. 'I wish I could stop seeing it. That night...'

That night. The night it all went wrong.

I didn't think anything of it. I'd been messing around with the guys, throwing things and playing keep-away with Noah's phone. We'd been joking about some girl he'd been texting, making kissy faces at him and pretending to text her back.

Noah tackled me onto a beanbag, taking me down with a hard thump as the beanbag slid across the floorboards and up against the wall.

His arms were around me, grappling for his phone. I let him have it, lying breathless and curled up against him. We laid together, everyone laughing and joking as Noah pretended to be mad at us.

He got his breath back quickly, but mine didn't come. It wasn't until five minutes later that we realised I was still panting. 

'Are you okay?' Noah asked jokingly, rolling to his back and pulling me into his lap. He leaned to look up at my face, his hand on my back.

'I think so, I just don't have super strong singer's lungs like you,' I joked. Looking back at him, that was when I saw the nerves. The panic in his eyes would haunt me forever.

His hand flattened on my back, the guys freezing as they looked on.

'What's going on?' Ruffilo asked, furrowing his brow.

'Noah...' I said slowly, getting nervous. The pounding in my chest felt heavier now, like I was being punched from inside my chest, but its rhythm was off. It felt like fluttering, and the longer I sat up, the worse it felt.

'She's going pale dude, get her on the floor,' Ruffilo blurted. 

Noah moved fast, lifting me from his lap and laying me down on the floorboards. He knelt by my side, taking my hand and holding it tight. His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open while he silently pressed his hand to my chest.

'Something isn't right,' he said, fishing his phone from his pocket and lifting it to his ear.

'Noah, what are you doing?' I coughed, my chest heaving. 

'Just try to stay calm, okay?' he said, his body language completely going against his words. 'Something's wrong, I'm calling an ambulance.'

I didn't argue with him. I didn't dare. If Noah said something was wrong, then something was clearly wrong. 

The phone didn't ring for long, and he asked for an ambulance with a hitch in his voice. He rattled off my name, my age, and the address to the dispatcher, all the while holding my hand for dear life.

'She's breathing really heavily,' he told them, ‘And her heartbeat feels wrong. I had my hand on her back, and it felt like it was skipping.'

I laid still, a chill seeping through my body at his words. Something was wrong, and it was with my heart. The organ that's meant to keep you alive. The most important part of a human body, and mine was malfunctioning.

I barely noticed my breathing speed up, I felt like I was going to be sick. The cold feeling prickled my skin, a cold sweat breaking out on my face while I screwed my eyes up. My ears began to ring, Noah's voice suddenly sounding far away. 

The urge to throw myself into a sitting position was almost impossible to ignore, but I knew Noah would only pin me down. He wasn't about to let me go anywhere.

'Noah,' I whimpered, trying to hold onto whatever composure I had left. My grip on his hand was iron clad, holding it for dear life.

'Y/N?' he called to me. Footsteps began to rush around the room, but they sounded like they were underwater.

My vision darkened, and I strained to look at Noah. It hurt to look, but I was determined to keep my eyes on him.

'I can't...' I tried to say, but my whole body had started to shut down on me. 

'Y/N,' Noah called again, squeezing my fingers tightly, 'come on, Y/N, stay awake, stay with me.'

I wanted to. I wanted so badly to stay with him. But my body had other ideas. 

I felt my fingers loosen in his, the strength fading. I felt him grip tighter. I heard his panicked cries as they distorted into static. I saw him scream. I saw the world close in around his wide eyes. I felt the heavy footsteps rattling the floorboards beneath me.

And then, nothing.

That night.

'That night was my anxiety getting the better of me, Noah,' I said softly, the familiar flush of shame in my cheeks. I had thought about it a lot too. I hated the idea that Noah saw me like that. I hated the idea that he had to watch my brain shut me down because I was too scared. It was mortifying.

'It was more than that, Y/N,' he argued. 'I was sure you were gone. I thought that I'd...' he stopped himself. I knew the look. His eyes flitted between his hands and the carpet, pursing his lips tightly. Whatever he was going to say, he'd never said it out loud before.

My eyes stung. Seeing him like this, it broke me. He'd been holding on to something, dealing with all of this alone. Just like me. 'Talk to me, Noah, please,' I begged.

He drew in a deep, shaky breath, his teeth sinking into his lower lip while he debated if he should admit it. 

'I thought I'd killed you. I thought maybe we'd been roughhousing too hard, and that maybe tackling you was what caused all of this,' he finally said. 'I haven't been avoiding you, I've been avoiding the guilt, because every time I look at you, I see you on the floor again. I see you barely breathing, and it feels like it was my fucking fault-'

I threw myself at him, pulling him close in a crushing hug. My blanket fell from my shoulders as his arms wrapped around me, hesitant to squeeze back.

'Noah, for fucks sake, hug me, I won't break,' I demanded, feeling the way he trembled. As if waiting for permission, his arms tightened, holding me in a way I hadn't realised I'd missed so much.

'I'm so fucking sorry,' he said, burying his face in my hair. 'I'm so sorry.'

'This isn't your fault, Noah, you know that,' I soothed, inching closer to him. 'We know why this happened, and I did it to myself, remember? I was an idiot.'

'I know, but I fucking left you when you needed someone. You needed me and I wasn't here, just like last time-'

'You are not blaming yourself for that, are you?' I asked, pulling back and looking at his face. His bloodshot eyes met mine, his lips pursed shut in a tight pout. 'Noah,' I said, 'do you really blame yourself for me being a fucking idiot?'

'I didn't answer the phone,' he said. 'If I had, maybe you wouldn't have done it.'

'Fuck, Noah, no,' I shook my head, my whole body sinking. 'It wasn't your fault. None of this is your fault. I overdosed because of Josh. He's the one to blame here, not you. He played me like a damn violin, and I walked straight into it. Thats why this happened. I did the damage, and it came back to bite me.'

'But Josh wouldn't have even been a problem if I'd said something,' he said weakly.

'Are you gonna have a rebuttal for everything?' I asked, a sad smile on my face as I reached up, brushing away a tear that fell down his cheek. 'I'll debunk it all, man. Come on, what would you have said?'

Noah smirked at me. I was glad to see my pathetic attempt at bravado could ease his pain a little. It made my heart settle somewhat. His eyes seemed to sparkle, and I finally saw the familiar face of my best friend looking back at me instead of a gloomy stranger.

I chuckled pathetically, tears running down my own face. 'Come on, what would you have said?' I repeated, stressing the words. 'That he was a jerk? That I could do better?' I goaded, 'or maybe that he was only using me to get to you, you big headed egomaniac-'

'I would have told you that I loved you.'

It was my turn to freeze. His face turned to stone, betraying no emotion. He watched as I processed what he had said, his gaze lowering to my chest as if he could see my heart through the skin.

My blanket pooled around my hips, and I felt exposed without it around my shoulders. Despite the shiver that ran through me, I didn't move to cover myself.

'You could have said that,' I said timidly, 'but would you have meant it? Or would you only have said it because you knew I had a crush on you? like using my feelings against me to protect me?'

Noah moved slowly, his hand running up my spine and letting my reactions guide him. His face drew nearer to mine, and another cool chill ran through me. This time, it was pleasant. My breath stuttered as he closed in on me.

'I can't lie to you about something like that, remember?'

'So why didn't you say anything?'

'Because I didn't think you saw me that way. You looked at everyone but me.'

A nervous gasp hit my throat as his eyes bored into mine. I had dreamed of this for years, swallowing every feeling and living in shame for so long.

'And you looked at everyone but me.'

'Not true,' he contested. 'When you weren't looking at me, I was always looking at you. You were all I saw. You've always been what I want. That's why it broke me to think I was losing you; to think I'd done this to you. I thought you deserved better.'

My breath caught in my throat, my fingers tracing down his cheek and resting on his neck. My heart thundered in my chest, and for once I was okay with it.

'And what do you think now?' I breathed.

'I think that I want to be the man you deserve,' his low voice whispered, our faces so close I could almost taste him. 

'You always have been.'

I leaned closer, gently pulling him closer to me. His lips met mine tenderly, barely touching.

'Don't be scared,' I breathed, 'I won't break.'

He huffed a soft laugh. 'You're sure?' 

I nodded, thumbing over his jaw. He grinned, kissing me properly. His lips pressed against mine and his hand nestled into the nape of my neck, holding me to him in desperation. I smiled into the kiss, my body alight with sensation as he ran his fingers into my hair.

I twisted my fingers into his hoodie, needing to feel him against me. He gladly took the hint, propping himself onto his knees and turning to lay me down on the couch. Our lips only parted long enough for him to find his place over me and settle me against the cushions. 

His body laid over mine, the pressure welcome against my lonely skin. His fingers glided over me, running from my hips to my jaw while I tried to commit his lips to memory.

'Noah,' I breathed between kisses. 

'Sorry,' Noah stopped, hovering just over my face and eyeing me with concern. 'Too much?'

'God no,' I shook my head with a giggle, 'I'm okay, but I wanted to tell you something.'

'Oh?'

'I missed you.'

He smirked at me, pecking my lips again. 'I missed you too.'

'I'm glad you came over tonight.'

'So am I.'

[gachagon]

There was a very small update for Welcome Home, and in it we got more "merchandise" that was recovered. This time, it's more audio books but a different kind known as "Looky Loo" storybooks. The only one they've found so far is titled "Brick by Brick" and it's centered around Poppy (My other favorite character hurray) I've noticed this story is a little similar to last year's halloween update story where Sally is throwing a play and needs people to join in on it for it to be a success.

Throughout the story though, there's a lot of small references to classic horror novels. Like Sally is obviously trying to do the Edgar Allen poe's a Telltale Heart, and at the end they literally wall Poppy inside her home Amontillado style.

I like to think the Telltale Heart reference was for Home (the sentient house) I've long since thought that Home literally has like some kind of beating organic heart inside of it somewhere, and if the cute stickers on the website are anything to go by then it's under the floor boards. Just like in the Telltale Heart.

As for the Amontillado reference, I wonder if it has something to do with how Poppy is literally "cooped" up inside her home, and how Home the house feels she should be there, and not outside. The storybook is kind of strange because at first you think that the lesson of the story will be about Poppy coming out of her shell, and potentially joining in her own way. But instead the characters just go along with it and are decidedly all for walling Poppy inside of her own home while they put the play on. And when you remember that the only reason Home was allowed to participate in the play was simply because Poppy was too cowardly to leave her house and be apart of something so scary, that's when things become a little more sinister to me.

I don't necessarily think Home is the cause of this, at least Home isn't the only perpetrator. I think the Narrator has some direct sway over what the characters were going to do, and that the story went in completely odd way instead of the usual ending that a lot of these kids books would have.

And to go back to the title of the story, "Brick by Brick" is what you would say when you're building something up. I think this is another clue, whatever mysterious entity is controlling the characters in these storybooks/audio dramas feels as if they literally created this world and it's characters and they feel entitled to how they should behave. In the last major update, Eddie Dear literally spiraled because he became too aware of his vague title as mailman and the weird holiday they were all celebrating. And in this one, the narrator just forces Poppy to continue being her old cowardly self, and is way too happy to let the rest of the cast entomb her lol.

Anyways, that's all i really got to think about for this update. it was good and creepy, perfect for the halloween season~ I can't wait for the next major update whenever that'll be. I hope Poppy is released from her home by then T_T

[nabinabipumpum]

CAN I BE THE FIRST?-01 ᴹⁱⁿʲⁱ ˣ ᶠ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Pairing - Kim Minji X f!Reader

Genre - angst(?), fluffy and smau

Warning - mom and daddy issues, self-acceptance problems, homophobic parents, Y/n doesn't know how to deal with feelings

Previous | Masterlist | Next

January 2024

Being an idol was the easiest way to get away from the family, right? No.

Regardless if Y/n couldn't talk to them, they would fix it. Sending letters demanding an answer was one of them, they hate letters, apparently only old people use it (they are about 50 years old).

Whenever they send these messages, she doesn't know what to answer, why can't they just leave her alone? After everything they did?

-("Why did you leave your dance class?" She came in suddenly, as always, without warning.

"I..." was lying the best option? No, she would find out "I joined Hybe, as a trainee" 1 minute of silence. She laughed, laughed out loud.

"You? Are you kidding me? Who would accept you? With that face, the most you can do is work in a cafe, stop lying dear." Y/n took a deep breath, his hands trembled.

"I don't... mom..." looked down.

"You can't even talk, how do you think you can sing?" Laughed again, Y/n hates this laugh, she looks like a witch, shrill and looks like she cuts off her ear every time she hears her.

"I'm not lying, I took the test yesterday and passed, that's it." silence.

"No." left the room. Without understanding Y/n got up as fast as any body could handle, followed his mother and stopped in front of him. "No Bae, you're not going to be a trainee."

"But... I'm not asking for permission, I'm just warning you" the old woman raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I'm not really asking for permission this time, just accept, I'll do it." a sharp pain on his face, his body fell to the ground with the impact, head down and tears formed, again not.

"Do you think you're smart, brat?" He bent down and lifted the girl's head with enough force to smash her neck.

"Mother..." swallowed her own air in her mouth "Please."

"Useless." was the last word, before the screams.

The next morning, his mother got up first, the same as always, after beating until she saw the first risk of blood has breakfast in bed. But the flag fell after seeing the empty room, even the books were gone, I mean, the few of them who were on that shelf moldy, the closet that no longer had doors was without any clothes.

"Shit.")-

That would be a normal night for her, her neighbors and her father who was watching TV in the living room, but people get tired, she got tired.

The refuge was Hybe's building, they let her stay there after seeing the mark on her neck. The room wasn't good, but it was much better than the one in your house.

That was 1 year ago, in a short time (3 months), Y/n was climbed into a group and they trained hard for 9 months until the debut.

They became real friends, something Y/n was afraid of, having friends. Everyone would leave one hour and that scared her.

"Hey Kittie, are you nervous?" The soft voice called her, her eyes rose slowly to Mary.

"A little, I'm fine." she smiled and settled in the space next to the sofa.

"I'm here with you, you don't need to be nervous.”

"Just... I'm afraid no one will like me... Compared to you guys..." Mary frowned, Y/n was probably the most talented of the group.

"Oh, don't say that, you're great at what you do, you're amazing, never be insecure about it, but if you do, I'm here for you, we all are." the youngest couldn't if she wants to look up, afraid of looking into Mary's eyes starting to cry and talk about her past, she can't.

"Thank you..." She fiddled her fingers.

"We're in a few minutes, do you want something?" Just denied with her head "Okay, just relax, everything will be fine."

Everything was really fine, the performance was perfect and there were people rooting for them, until they went back to the dressing room and Y/n saw NewJeans in front of them. Her heart beat a little harder when she saw Minji. She always felt extremely attracted to Minji, something in her eyes and smile, she would never know how to explain, but seeing her in front of her really provoked new feelings. Feelings are bad.

“Hanni!” Soorin hugged the girl, smiling a lot.

“Hey! You were awesome on stage” Everyone bowed to greet the oldest group, Y/n just followed without knowing much what to do, his parents never taught to have respect for others.

“Hi! You name is Y/n, right? You were so good in the performance, this outfit really suits you.” Y/n felt her body heat up and could barely murmur a thank you to the girl, which made Mary laugh softly.

“Dani, stop flirting with her.” Minji. It’s only what she can thinks.

“I’m not flirting!”

“Dani! Don’t make my girl shy, she is scared for pretty girls!” Y/n turned her head faster than she thought to look at Hari who just laughed and walked away.

“Oh Kitty, You think Dani is cute?” Miya hugged the waist of the lowest while looking at her with hope.

“I… Oh god, stop.” Y/n walked away and stayed behind Mary, looking for help. “Unnie…” The girls laughed, Minji laughed, God, that made the poor girl's heart beat so hard.

“Stop annoy her” She said looking at Miya and Hari.

“Ok, but, you guys have the twitter account too? They say to us to have a one.” Soorin asked for Hanni and the other girls

“They said this to us too.” Hanni seemed excited.

“Oh, that’s cool, we should follow you too, we can be friends” Dani didn't stop smiling while talking.

“That’s sounds cool. What do you think Kittie?” Everyone looked at the girl who played with Mary's blouse.

“Sounds cool.” It was barely a whisper when she said.

“Yes, ok, just say your names”

Y/n moved away a little and sat on the couch while looking at her hands, why was she so nervous if she had already left the stage? Why did she get so nervous about the question about Danielle? Why... No, she’s not gay. She’s only nervous about pretty girls.

“Hey, can I have your account name too?” oh, Minji.

A/N: That didn't look really good, it's just an introduction before smau, sorry if it seemed confusing, I'm getting the hang of it. I'm sorry for any writing error too

Taglist 🏷️ (open): @gtfoiydlyj @cloudinwjns @yncoreee

[empyreanwizard]

about miquella's kidnapping, you know the charm only works if miq gets really close in your face (see heart stolen + freyja's account of being healed) and it doesn't do a 180° in your personality (the npcs in the shadow realm are there to show us how it affects them and we can see it didn't change their personality) what the charm does is: make you non-violent (see heart stolen) makes you forget bad things (see leda and ansbach remembering "cascading sheets of blood" after the charm is broken)

if anything, I'd say the charm would've made him more sane, take thioller for example he's completely obsessed with trina after the charm is broken, to the point where he tries to kill you after she talks to you

compare thioller's dialogue:

"i am her chosen, not you. only I can doze off in the sea of st. trina"

and

"only i am allowed to know. of your velvety sleep. its sweetly gentle embrace. so please, smile—for me, and only me." (st. trina's smile)

to mohg's dialogue:

"miquella is mine and mine alone"

both are possessive and obsessed. miquella's charm nullified thioller's obsession, and I have no reason to believe miquella can just pick and choose the side effects his charm will have.

my points on why miquella did not want to be kidnapped

1 - he wouldn't have cocooned himself for a long ass time like he did otherwise. and you know he was there for a long time because he's all skinny and covered in cocoon liquid stuff. and mohg wouldn't need to break open his cocoon like he did, he would just take it back to his palace

2 - miquella couldn't have known mohg even existed. he lived in the sewers his whole life, and miquella never went to the sewers. also, even if he did, he couldn't have charmed him there bc otherwise ansbach would never know to differentiate a non-charmed mohg from a charmed mohg .

3 - mohg is already a established kidnapper. from the "war surgeon gown":

"Bloodstained white gown of the war surgeons who were effectively mercy killers. Of the surgeons that were abducted by the Lord of Blood, none were able to tame the accursed blood. None but Varré, that is; though he was an exception."

4 - mohg had his own reasons to kidnap miquella. he wanted to build his blood dynasty and to become a lord, as ansbach says he was seeking lordship, and the consort of an empyrean is a lord by right (see dark moon ring description). miquella is the only empyrean available, as ranni is presumed dead and malenia already has a god inside of her (and he could never kidnap her), leaving only miquella who apparently doesn't have an outer god meddling inside of him, so perfect vessel for the formless mother

now, you're probably wondering "well if the mohg thing wasn't planned, who would be used as a vessel for his consort??" to answer that, miquella probably didn't know he needed a vessel in the first place, as the ">>>secret<<< rite scroll" is only found in the shadow realm, he couldn't have known about that thing while living in the lands between.

verdict: miquella was forced to switch plans after the kidnapping (can't complete anything he starts curse yadda yadda), mohg did not beat the allegations, and miquella got his revenge for being used (mohg was living/sleeping inside his corpse how do yall forget this???) by using mohg's corpse to house his promised consort's soul somehow (which is awful too, but that goes without saying)

remember, the story in the dlc is there to parallel his ascension to marika's ascension. in this case, the hornsent killed and tortured marika's people, and she responds by genociding and terrorizing the hornsent people. mohg used and abused miquella's corpse, and he responded by using mohg's corpse.

marika = miquella

hornsent = omen

I just think it's weird that so many people are running off with the assumption that miquella, who the dlc all but confirm has the body AND mentality of a child, was charming mohg out of malicious intent rather than self-defense. remember he was probably never trained to fight nor does he have the strength to do it, the charm is basically his self-defense mechanism.

I think the main issue is that if you disagree on even the littlest thing here, the whole narrative shifts, and that's why there's so many different interpretations and confused people.

this is all subjective and there's no reason to claim my interpretation is the correct one ofc but I do think I make a good argument.

[drunkenskunk]

Been thinking a lot about Lancer lately, in case you can't tell. And a thought has crossed my mind.

The various military powers that exist in the world of Lancer. Union. The Karrakin Baronies. The Aunic Ascendancy. The corpro-states like Harrison or SSC or IPS-N. Even the smaller independent nations in the diaspora outside the control of Union or anyone else. How are all the various armies of these different powers organized, and what are their respective doctrines actually like?

Let me explain.

When you play Lancer, the book makes it VERY clear that what you, the players, are doing when you're in the combat part of the game is... the exception and not the rule. 3 to 5 people in absurdly customized and overpowered mechs is not normal. You are exceptional people, piloting exceptional machines, constantly being thrust into exceptional situations.

So how are the armies of regular mechs organized, and how are they deployed against one another in actual war?

By way of an example: Battletech. When it comes to the armies of the Inner Sphere (at least during the Succession Wars), forces of mechs would typically be organized like:

4 mechs in a Lance

3 Lances in a Company

3 Companies in a Battalion

3 to 5 Battalions in a Regiment

Now, obviously I'm oversimplifying here. There's gonna be some variations, depending on the time period and the Successor State in question, and anything larger than a Regiment has it's own problems... but that tends to be the starting point. Usually. And there's also many different variations when it comes to the organization of things like aerospace assets, armored vehicle elements that are NOT mechs (like tanks and artillery), and infantry units. Because even in a setting dominated by heavy metal, the humble footsoldier has never truly gone away.

But that's just how the Successor States of the Inner Sphere do things. Mostly. The Clans have a very different way of organizing their armies:

A Point is the smallest unit for the Clans, either being a single mech, two aerospace fighters, two armored vehicles, five power armored infantry, or a 25-man platoon of conventional infantry.

5 Points in a Star

2 Stars in a Binary

3 to 5 Binaries in a Cluster

3 to 5 Clusters in a Galaxy

The Clans like thing to be simple and organized, which... can be both a good and a bad thing, depending.

In terms of battlefield doctrine, the way the Successor States wage war is an absolute clusterfuck. Tactics can vary wildly depending on which house you're talking about, and when, but for the most part? They're going to employ some form of combined arms, with mechs spearheading an assault, supported by infantry, armor, artillery, and aerospace assets. The Clans, on the other hand, have a completely different doctrine: their Batchall, or "Battle Challenge."

See, the Clans treat war like a game. It's a sport. It's not (usually) about annihilating the other side; it is (supposed to be) a means of settling disputes in a "civilized" manner. Clan Wolverine would probably have some choice words to say about that description, but that's a topic for another day. See, they want things to be an even fight. A test of skill, rather than a test of who can buy the biggest weapons or field the largest number of troops. For example: if your side has warships, and your opponent does not have warships, then you're expected to bid away your warships and you don't get to use them in that fight.

It is a very fair, but very stupid, way of waging war, and that battlefield doctrine came to bite them in the ass in 3052 when the ComGuard beat the shit out of them at Tukayyid.

... I think I may have drifted slightly off topic.

Right, yes, Lancer, that's what I was talking about.

What got me thinking about this? Well, I was reading through the rulebook earlier; specifically, going through the GM part of the book where it has the list of all the different NPC types and the templates you can apply, and how to build encounters and such. And I was also fucking around in Comp/Con. Doing things like trying to figure out how strong I could make the "squad" NPC using the rules available (is it even possible to make a squad of infantry a threat to mechs?), and trying to see what stats a tank would have, that sort of thing.

And as I was futzing around with all this, I noticed that the way you build encounters reminded me a lot of... well, building a Lance of mechs to fight an opponents Lance of mechs in the tabletop wargame version of Battletech. And then that got me thinking about organizational structures and battlefield doctrine, and...

I suppose the point my autistic ADHD-addled mind is trying laboriously to get to is: would it be possible to modify the rules of Lancer to play it like a tabletop wargame instead of an RPG? Y'know, like...

Well, Battletech, I suppose.

And, y'know, from a lore side of things: what would an army of mechs in Lancer actually look like (beyond the squad of player characters who are special by dint of the narrative), and how would those armies be organized?

[acc--deactivated]

𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨

„Sweet cunt and a sharp tongue, you're a dangerous combo, love.“

featuring: edward kenway

cw: praise, vaginal sex, semi-public i guess

synopsis: owning a tavern in havana means being used to pirates in your every day life, their crude words and behaviour. but you've never met a pirate going this far in attempt to apologize for a crewmate's bad actions.

note: „fy nghariad“ is a welsh phrase meaning „my love“ or „my sweetheart“ which i thought would be nice to include, but please tell me if i used it incorrectly, that would be kinda embarassing lol

18+ content - MDNI

───────────────────

Havana is always warm, always welcoming and soft, with sunlight flooding through streets of beige and gold, full of laughter and peaceful existence.

Even at night, it feels like the warmth wraps around people like a soft coat, summer air resting between the buildings and mingling with the scent of the sea, darkness enlightened by warm lanterns and candles. The sound of joyful music, shanties and drunken laughter has become the soundtrack of your nights as bartender in the tavern and restaurant which are owned by your father, and you like to say that Havana is a place of joy, no matter the time of day.

You've done this job since your teenage years, are used to bar fights and lusting gazes resting on you, know how to handle men who try to let their hands wander, think they can whistle at you or spit out crude and naughty things.

Most of them know that it will only get them a ban from the house, or in worst case, a beating from your main visitors or an arrest by the guards, but sometimes, there still are idiots who try it, out of pure stupidity and falsely placed ego.

Citizens of Havana adore your tavern as a centre of the city, they know how to behave and have their fun in peace, but the pirates docking on the shore are a different story.

You can see it in their gazes, in the way they talk, the way they stride through the streets like they own them and the houses forming them, that they're looking for provocation, hungry for a fight.

Thankfully, most of them are more of an inconvience and not an actual threat, and you know how to handle them, know that a tavern is a pirate's favourite place, which gives you a slight advantage against them, even if it's just out of their sympathy for the rum you pour them.

It doesn't diminish your dislike for them, despite them being your costumers.

Pirates are a disease, you've always been told. And yet, you can't help but feel a thrill in your veins, feel your heart leap and your legs trembling when a strong hand grabs your chin from behind, gently, sensually lifts your head.

The soft light filling the dim walls of the empty, closed tavern flickers in your vision, soft tears of passion melting it to a blur along with the dark of the late night and a breathed, blissful sigh leaves your lips, forced out of you by the way the body of the man behind you rocks once more against you.

Pirates are the worst of the worst, you learned early in your life. And Edward Kenway is so good at being a pirate, at getting what he wants, that he might be something even worse, armed with those mischievous eyes, his charming smirk and skilled fingers.

You did not question the leathern bracers wrapped around his lower arms, the hidden blades you saw shimmering in the dim light when you served him and his men, and you didn't question the hooded robe hanging over the back of his chair, could only focus on the white lace-up shirt on his body, the cleavage that slightly revealed the tattoos spreading over his chest.

It was no surprise and nothing new when one of his men hit on you, spitting rude words from a drunk tongue in an attempt to seduce you. What did surprise you was how fast Adéwalé grabbed him by the scruff like a puppy to kick him out of the tavern, and the way Edward apologized to you, genuinely and gentle.

Most men did not act like this when they came to drink in your tavern, only laughed when their comrades harrassed a girl. It did not fit your world view, disturbed the evil picture you carried of pirates all these years of your life.

You couldn't help but smile at the way Edward looked at you, a mixture of apologetic and enthrilled, felt your breath hitch when he asked you what he could offer to beg your forgiveness.

The way his hands are now roaming your body, his husked breaths against your ear and his body pressed against yours is not what you had in mind at first, but you'll gladly take it as a form of apology.

He lets out a groan as he fills you, slides into you like you are made for him, slicked walls hugging his cock, clenching around his girth.

He fills you just right, hits spots you have never felt, makes you see stars despite the roof above both of your heads.

„What do you say, sweetheart? Think this'll make up for the inconvience?“ he husks against your ear, sends a new shiver down your spine that ends up right inside the heat pooling in your lower stomach, and you lightly lean your head back, feel the stubble of his beard brushing your ear.

Just when you're about to answer, he hits you with another thrust from behind, knocks the air out of you with the sheer depth of his movements.

You need a second to catch your breath, collect yourself, before a little smirk spreads on your lips.

„Thought a world-class-pirate would have more to offer“, you respond, with a low, seducing voice, a tone that lures him in, makes his breath hitch lightly, bearly hearable if he wasn't so close to your ear.

He's so close even that you think you can feel the way an amused smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and you shudder again when his breath fans your cheek.

„Sly little thing, aren't ya?“

Before you can answer in an even brattier tone than before, you feel how he slightly pushes you down, makes you lean further forward until you're forced to hold onto the bar, driven further and further into the wood by his harsh thrusts.

He quickens his pace, makes you whine and moan with the way he fills you, tip kissing your womb, his slight curve brushing your sweet spots just right.

„Sweet cunt and a sharp tongue, you're a dangerous combo, love.“

His words and the deep tone of his voice only make you arch more in his grasp, make you hold onto the bar with one hand, while the other carries your balance on its wooden surface.

You feel your own arousal run down your thighs, feel yourself getting higher and higher on the wet sounds echoing through the room whenever he enters your aching cunt, your brain spinning around mixed feelings of confusion and arousal.

He's a pirate, a well wanted one as well, and yet you can not help but love the way he grabs you, the way he fucks you, the way he makes you feel.

When he leans over your back, one hand placed next to your body, the other one on your hip to hold you steady, you somehow forget how much his head is worth, how dangerous his hands should feel on your body.

It feels strange, but a spark of sympathy arises within you when he leans in further, buries you in his shadow as he pushes a soft kiss against the back of your neck, drowns you in the illusion of intimacy when he gently closes his teeth around the shell of your ear.

Edward doesn't seem like other pirates, doesn't initiate fights he can not win, doesn't harrass others, doesn't cause unnecessary ruckus to prove his ego. He smells better than most of them, covered in the scent of the sea, of salt and a hint of rum, but with an underlying note of herbs, probably because of salves that are used to treat wounds lingering his body.

And above all, he looks so handsome, a dark angel within a bunch of dirty, fattened and drunk pigs, his cheeky smirk more intoxicating than alcohol or money.

A smirk that is directed at you, resting on you as he observes you, watches you writher and shake beneath his movements. When you catch it from the corner of your eye, it fuels new fire inside of you, and your lips curl sweet and mischievously when you slightly raise your head to respond.

„Maybe you shouldn't provoke my sharp tongue too much then, captain.“

The word does something to him, you can feel it, notice the way he gasps for a second, slows his thrusts for the shortest bit. Then he suddenly slips out of you, both hands grabbing your hips and pulling you up, your back straightening for the shortest second before he turns you around, pulls you in by the waist and leans forward to push his lips against yours, catching you in a heated kiss that steals your breath, makes your knees weak.

You bury your right hand in his blonde hair, hold him close, while your other hand rests on the textile of his shirt, trying to hold onto soft linen while you sigh and feel your legs tremble.

As if he's feeling it, he lightly bends his knees, slides his hands from your hips to the back of your thighs to pick you up, makes you wrap your legs around his waist while your hands cradle his face and you sink further into his kiss, melt against his lips. You hear the rustling of clothes, feel how he picks up your discarded dress from the edge of the bar and spreads it on the counter, adjusting the textile before he sets you down on the wood, just to break from your mouth a few seconds later.

He smirks at your little gasp, licks his lower lip before raising his voice.

„Captain, huh? That a hidden request to join my crew?“

You gasp when you feel his fingers dig into the softness of your thighs, need a second to collect yourself before you scoff at his words, look at him through a glimmer of competition before you breathe out an „In your dreams, pirate.“

He only grins at that, eyes slightly narrowing as they slide down to his hands on your thighs, watches them when he spreads your legs to get new access to your leaking centre, his eyes staring shamelessly at it.

And just when you think to finally have the air to add another snarky comment, he suddenly thrusts back into you, one switft motion with which he fills you to the brim, makes you throw your head back as he falls back into a relentless rhythm, his cock slicking in and out of your warm wetness.

He leans over you again, holding you by the waist as he pounds into you, forcing high pitched moans and whimpers out of your throat that you simply can not hold back.

His thrusts feel so deep, hit you so perfectly and when he grabs one of your legs to raise it to his shoulder, you almost choke on the air in your throat, bliss filling you at the pleasure washing through you by his deepening movements.

You curse out an „Oh god-“ as you throw your head back, hear a breathed laugh from Edward when he grabs you by the hips again, adjusts your body on the textile of your dress, pulls you in to take his hard thrusts.

Another whimper leaves you as he partially folds you in half, sass and mockery leaving your body with each new thrust, slowly melting in the heat of a building orgasm within your body.

It doesn't help how he reaches out with his hand to search for your clit, forcing a loud moan from your throat when his finger presses against it.

„That it, darling? That the spot?“

Through your panting and heavy breathing, the dizziness in your vision, you see how he smirks at you, pure confidence written in his attractive features and you can only nod, breathe out a „Please-“, a word that only makes his smile widen.

Your lower body tenses, a coil clenching deep within your core, tight enough that it almost hurts.

„Don't hold back. Let me feel you come, fy nghariad.“

His voice slightly falters, breathless because of his own arousal, the tension with which he holds himself back, and his words only add fuel to the fire in your body, make the flames lap higher, reaching your chest, making your heart race.

Whimpers and gasps leave your throat, you tense, feel your thighs shiver, your entire body short-circuiting until eventually, you feel yourself breaking apart, tension and arousal reaching their peak, knocking you into an abyss of white noise, making you cry out in pleasure, your head falling back as arousal floods your veins.

His thrusts never waver, seem to get even harder, fucking you through your orgasm, almost making you pass out with the sheer overstimulation. Your brain turns to mush, simply melts away and when you look up at him, with tear-filled, flickering eyes and your tongue slightly peaking over your lower lip, he takes in a sharp, hissing breath, slipping dangerously close to an orgasm just by your gaze and your walls spasming, clenching and relaxing around him.

His hand trembles a little as he trails it further up your body, fondling your chest for a second and making you whine out at the soft feeling, before his fingers graze your neck, eventually rest on your cheek.

He spreads his thumb, runs it over the corner of your mouth, doesn't expect the way you push out your tongue to taste salt, gunpowder and rum on his skin. Not a second later, you allow his finger to slip into your mouth, relish in the way he draws a sharp breath when you lazily swirl your tongue around it.

The facade in front of his face cracks the slightest bit, and you see how he bites his lower lip, how his brows furrow a little in what seems to be despair, before he breathes out a „Shit, you're gonna make me cum, sweetheart.“

It's the cue you need and while you whine, shudder beneath each of his thrusts, you at some point slightly bite down into his finger, hard enough to make him jolt, hard enough to break his facade.

He gasps for air, lets out short „Fuck-“, before he holds onto your hip, digging the fingers of his free hand into the skin when he forces himself to pull out, holding you in place as warm, white seed spurts over the skin of your abdomen.

For a few moments, you only look at each other, breathe into the space between both of you, wallowing in the heat of each other's body. Your head is still spinning when Edward slightly leans forward, gently rests his forehead against yours before he lets out a heavy breath.

His eyes are dark and dominant when they dig into yours, captivate you with the slight glimmer within them.

„Aren't you just something else... Maybe I'll pick you up and simply take you with me. Wanna know what else that sweet mouth of yours can do.“

It doesn't matter what you learned your entire life, his words make you giddy and thoughtless, make your heart leap in joy and your lips curl to a smile.

„Careful, Kenway. My lips may seem sweet, but they come with a pair of teeth.“

He lets out a little groan, a sound of playful despair and frustration, before he leans further against your forehead, gently nudges his nose against yours.

„Fucking heavens, you're perfect.“

You smile when he kisses you, wrap your arms around him and become a mess of sweet nothingness beneath his hands when they start roaming your body again, not taking long until you throw your head back once more, sending sighed versions of his name into the warm night.

[mischelmayleys]

TRIGGER WARNING: rape topic

When I got to Rodrigo's place it was something past eight pm which meant his friends were gonna be there too.

I knocked on the door and waited...and waited...and waited. No one was opening up nor did someone hear me due to the loud music inside.

I groaned and picked up my phone dialing Rodrigo's number.

"Yeah sweetsoul?" His voice appeared in my ear.

"Come open me up dickhead." I said and hung up.

Not even two minutes after I did the door swung open revealing Rodrigo in a white shirt with some long black pants. He looked like the classic Spanish boy you would imagine, charming smile, almond skin and blue piercing eyes. Tattoos covered most of his arm skin and some of his chest.

"Eliza babe welcome." He opened his arms for the hug which I walked into and let it sink in.

"You look happier, what's up?" He frowned looking down at me.

"I got into a new family...they might be different." I said, smiling softly.

"Oh is that so. Well then come on we are going to celebrate! I have so much tequila." He led me through his apartment.

"Are you having a party again?" I asked as we sat down on the couch, him dragging a protective hand around my shoulders.

He nodded: "Diego wanted it."

I scoffed: "I thought you kicked him out."

"I can't kick him out. He would be on the street...he's my friend."

"Sure he is."

He hit the back of my head: "Stop about Diego and let's do shots."

I smirked at him: "You're on."

Turns out doing shots on an empty stomach wasn't the smartest idea I had. The bathroom I sat in was spinning like crazy as I emptied my stomach into the toilet, well mostly just the alcohol I drank came out. I looked at my phone and found out it was someone past 2am in the morning. Shit.

I quickly stood up which was a mistake due to the room spinning so I gripped the sink. The door to the bathroom opened and someone came and stood behind me.

I looked up to see who it was through the mirror and saw Diego. My eyes wilden.

I quickly went to leave when he grabbed my waist and smashed me into the sink.

His lips met my ear from behind: "Let's just have a bit of fun...no one will know."

My breathing picked up, there is no way this is happening now. I tried my best to wiggle out of his grasp but it was no use.

I felt as he slit down my pants and his as well.

"What a pretty ass you have." He smacked my ass so hard I yelled.

"STOP! please stop." I cried as he pulled my panties to the side and I could feel his dick onto my thigh.

"On your knees bitch." He forced me down and turned me around so I was in a line with his dick. I swallowed hard as I felt a hand on the back of my neck. I looked up at him as he said: "Suck it, like the slut you are."

He pushed my head towards him as I forced my purse to stay together.

"OPEN UP YOU BITCH!" He slapped me with his other arm as I gasped.

His dick was in my mouth in a matter of seconds but I didn't do anything.

"SUCK IT OR I'LL FUCK YOUR THROAT!" He ordered again.

At that moment I thought I had no way out until I realized one thing.

Instead of sucking I bit him into his size as he yelled out in pain and let go of my head.

Immediately I stood up and put on my pants and panties and ran out of the bathroom.

"Hey, you're okay? Why are you crying?" Rodrigo asked me as I ran between the dancing people.

I didn't even realize I was crying until then.

"I have to go bye." I yelled through the music and ran to the front door.

I knew he would follow me. He was never good with emotions. The cold breeze hit my face as I ran in the direction of Ingrid's and Mapi's house.

I didn't bother to go in by the window. I wasn't stupid. I knew they already found out I wasn't there.

As I got to the apartment building and to the door which behind had my new foster parents I took a deep breath in.

What if they are going to beat the shit out of me?

What if they are angry?

But nothing seemed worse then I already went through and nothing was worse then what could have happened tonight.

I knocked on the door and waited.

INGRID POV:

It was now past midnight and Eliza was still not back. We debate on calling the social worker to tell her about what happened, but realized they might have taken her from us.

So we waited.

"Ingrid, come on shouldn't we call-" Mapi was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

We quickly stood up and spirit to the front door. When we opened it we were met with a Eliza with red face, stained tears and her body was shaking.

All the anger left my body and was replaced by concern. I reach out to grab her but she takes a step back.

"Hey, come on. What happened?" Mapi asked as she stepped outside to the hall.

Eliza only shook her head and ran through the door into the apartment and straight to the closest bathroom.

Me and Mapi looked at each other before following her.

She was sat on the floor emptying her stomach into the toilet.

"I am so sorry, please don't beat me. I'm sorry...I'm sorry." She cried between shaking.

I frowned and carefully sat down next to her as Mapi came back with some water: "We are not going to hurt you."

"But..I..I ran away. My social worker will be mad and she is going to send me away." She was rambling.

Mapi knelt down next to her and handed her a glass of water: "We are not sending you away chica. Although we are upset you didn't let us know. What happened? Are you drunk?"

Eliza froze; she was probably debating on what to tell us. Glass of water firmly in her hand.

She nodded: "I...I was not anymore. It made me sober."

"What is it?" I asked.

But I didn't get any answer as she was asleep.

"We should move her to the bed." Mapi whispered to me as I agreed with her and we carefully took her to her room.

Mapi laid her down onto the bed. As I slowly took off her sweaty shirt.

However, no one prepared me for what I would see. Eliza's body was covered in scars. The largest stretched from her right shoulder to the beginning of her stomach. I ran my hand over the wound as if I hoped that I would let it go away.

I felt her relax and sigh.

"What did you go through?" I whispered and I somehow got her into one of my old jerseys which looked way too big on her.

Mapi came back the moment I covered her with a quilt: "How is she?"

"Traumatised." I said and let tears stream down my face.

"We will heal her...show her how to live normally." Mapi said to me as I nod and hugged her.

I am so sorry for not updating. I'll try multitask better.

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 15

Chasing Chaos

Run, baby, run, run for your life

I'ma tear out your heart,

it'll always be mine.

- ( The song of the chapter is 'RUNRUNRUN' by Dutch Melrose.)

The night is thick with silence, the kind that presses down on you, thick and heavy. Any other night, she might have found peace in this stillness. But not tonight. The moon hangs low, its silver light spilling over the asphalt like a warning, offering no solace, only stretching shadows.

Her car glides through the pitch-black night. The headlights cut through the inky blackness like a blade. Streetlamps flash past in rhythmic intervals, being the only sign of life.

Her fingers tap against the steering wheel in sync with the car's soft hum, a sound that should steady her but only amplifies the unease building in her chest. It's been a few minutes since she's driving, and her security details have not caught up with her yet.

Something isn't right.

Not just tonight, but everything. It's as though every decision she's made, every turn she's taken, has led her into the path of something she never saw coming.

Him.

The thought of him clings to her like smoke, impossible to get rid of. The way his dark eyes follow her, the way his presence lingers even when he isn't there. It can't be a mere curiosity. It mingles with something deeper and nameless, refuses to settle, tugging at her. She prides herself on reading people, yet he's the one enigma she can't solve, can't understand, not even close. It drives her mad.

A screeching noise cuts through the stillness, ripping her focus back to the rearview mirror. The glares of the headlights almost blind her.

It's a vehicle, no a monstrous beast.

A Black Land Cruiser.

Unknown, unrecognised.

Her heart skips a beat. Where the hell are her security details? They should have been behind her by now, trailing close.

The hulking vehicle is like a shadow on wheels, creeping toward her with an unnerving speed, growing dangerously closer with every second.

Her heartbeat stutters, then slams into overdrive. Eyes narrowed, she tracks the Cruiser as it locks in directly behind her, leaving mere feet of space. Her palms grow slick, heartbeat hammering erratically. She braces herself, waiting for any sign of danger, each second dragging painfully long. They could be normal passersby. Just another car on the road... no need to worry, right?

Without taking her eyes off the rearview, she begins counting her breaths, a feeble attempt to calm herself down.

One. Two. Three.

Yet, her heart only races faster, pounding louder in her ears. Something in her gut warns her to stay wary of the monstrous vehicle behind her. She could slam on the gas and attempt to reach the safety of the house, but the other car is larger, faster, built to devour a smaller one like hers in seconds.

She forces herself to stay steady, not wanting to prompt any hostile moves. Her stomach churns, sinking lower with each breath, her gaze shifting to the glove compartment. She bites her lip, frozen, uncertain of her next move.

There's no other option now.

With a determined look in the mirror, she tightens her grip on the wheel, shifts gears, and floors the accelerator. The Cruiser instantly responds, surging forward to match her speed.

What the hell?

It clings to her trail with unnerving closeness, a dark wave ready to engulf her. They gain speed, edging up beside her, now almost driving parallel to her right. Goosebumps prickle along her skin as she tries accelerating, slowing down, even weaving, but the Cruiser sticks, mirroring her step by fucking step.

A loud roar echoes from the distance, gradually getting louder. She glances ahead and spots a motorbike tearing toward her, the rider in full gear, speeding with reckless intent. She jerks the wheel, swerving aside to let him pass, she doesn't want to drag an unsuspecting person into the chaos.

The bike veers in, darting into the narrow gap between her and the Cruiser. And then, when she thinks it's gone, but no, in her mirror, she catches a glimpse of the bike making a sharp U-turn and soon he too joins the chase.

The bike is with them too!!!

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She's in an ambush.

Alone with the Cruiser and the bike, she presses on the accelerator harder. The Cruiser closes in fast, slamming into her rear bumper with a force that rattles her in her seat. The grinding crunch of metal against metal fills her ears. She grits her teeth, bracing against the assault.

Adrenaline floods her veins as her mind races, instincts screaming for an escape. But before she can make her next move, her gaze flicks to the side. The passenger window of the Cruiser rolls down, and something long, metallic glints in the moonlight.

Is that a rocket launcher?!

Her blood runs cold. They're not just chasing her, they're hunting her, intent on ending her. The terror seizes her chest as she tightens her grip on the steering wheel, forcing herself to stay steady. She won't go down without trying.

Every second feels like it could be her last. She doesn't have time to think, only to react. Her mind is screaming for a way out, but there's nothing, just the endless stretch of road and that car gaining on her.

The Cruiser surges forward again, closing the gap. Her heart hammers in her chest as she steals a glance back. The man in the passenger seat is readying the rocket launcher. Her hands tremble, but she keeps pressing on the gas.

On the other hand, the roar of the bike grows louder. It looms in her rearview mirror, barreling down the road with relentless speed. Her stomach twists, the feeling of being trapped tightening with every passing second.

The bike swerves sharply, sliding into the narrow space between her car and the Cruiser again with hair-raising precision. And, then, keeping perfect control of the bike, the rider reaches behind him and pulls out a gun with an effortless ease.

She shifts her car further to the side, bracing for disaster. But it doesn't happen. Instead, the rider, steering the bike with one hand, spins it into a sharp one-eighty to face the Cruiser head-on.

All in one fluid motion. And she stares. Transfixed. Her heartbeat thunders as she watches the scene unfold before her.

A shot rings out.

The man with the rocket launcher jerks, slumping back in his seat as blood splatters across the windshield. The Cruiser swerves, tyres screeching on the road, the entire vehicle shuddering violently before coming to a sudden, jarring stop.

The bike skids to a halt as well, positioned like a shield between her and the Cruiser. It faces away from her towards the beast of a vehicle like it is a beast of a different genre in itself,

The rider keeps his gun raised. His stance is tense, yet controlled, a silent warning radiating from him, danger poised in stillness.

She slams on her brakes, unable to tear her eyes from the scene unfolding before her. Her hands shake as she adjusts the mirror, trying to take in every detail.

Everything feels frozen, the road, the air, her breath.

For a moment, all she can hear is the thudding of her heart in her ears. The biker sits there, still, like a predator, waiting for its prey to make a move.

The Cruiser whirls, but the rider doesn't twitch. Instead, he raises his other hand to his gun, aiming again without flinching.

In a desperate move, the Cruiser lurches into reverse, tyres screaming as it tries to flee, retreating like an animal caught in a trap. But it's too late.

Another shot cut through the silence.

The driver's head snaps forward, lifeless. The Cruiser jerks, veering off course. It crashes into a nearby tree with a bone-rattling crunch, the impact echoing through the night.

Silence falls, thick and heavy.

She's still gripping the wheel like her life depends on it. Her gaze drifts to the white shirt stretched over the rider's shoulders, tucked into dark trousers, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms.

Fuck. She knows this back.

A few weeks ago, she studied his profile so meticulously that she could recognize him from any angle.

He turns his head to look back at her. He's wearing a waistcoat.

And no jacket.

The jacket is lying in her front seat.

Panic flares, sending her pulse skyrocketing. A lone bird cries out from somewhere nearby, its haunting call echoing across the silent, moonlit road. The pale light bathes everything in a ghostly glow, and her pulse flutters wildly, like a caged bird struggling against unseen chains.

They've found out.

The wolves.

The wolves have found out that the serpent had their daughter killed. So they are after her, to end her life, to get their revenge.

Otherwise, why on earth would anyone want to kill her?

Did he find out too?

Was The Wolves's daughter really his sister? Is that why he didn't let them kill her? Because he wants to kill her himself?

Fuck.

It's the moment he's kept talking about..the one where he'll take her life and settle the debts between them.

She sits frozen in her seat, her mind racing. She thinks of speeding off, getting out of the scene, but the way he took down the Cruiser...he could catch her in a second. With a slow, deliberate motion, she opens her glove compartment and clutches the gun in her palm.

He turns the bike toward her, coming to a stop beside her car, huge and imposing. She glances up at the sheer size of the bike and the man riding it as if the bike is an extension of him. He slightly leans back, casually perched atop the massive machine, with the same ease with which he's danced with her this evening.

Her eyes trace the muscles in his arms, tight and defined. The tattoo on his forearm curls like they've always been there, and something stirs deep inside her. She doesn't want to feel it.

NOT. NOW.

His hand, clad in a pair of leather gloves, pulls off his helmet, revealing his face and those caramel-brown eyes. The ones that always make her feel like she's falling into something she can't climb out of.

His eyes meet hers, piercing through the glass, unblinking, as though he knows exactly what he's doing to her.

And she looks away, but his gaze never wavers. He taps on her window, signalling her to roll it down. But she doesn't move. Her heart flutters violently, making her dizzy.

His finger taps the comm in his ear and suddenly, the car vibrates, breaking the stillness and sending a jolt through her.

She jumps, barely stifling a gasp while grabbing her phone. The caller ID flashes.

Unknown number.

It's him.

Her gaze snaps back to him. He's calling her. From barely inches away, through the glass, with him just outside her car. And she lets it ring, never breaking the gaze. Her heart is hammering in her chest, a bead of sweat sliding down her spine, making her skin tingle.

His hand stays at his ear. The buzzing doesn't stop. His gaze remains unyielding. Caramel-brown on hazel. On the side of an empty road, the eerie shadow of the moon stretched over them. The distance between them feels like nothing, yet somehow, everything at once.

The seconds stretch, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. She doesn't back down. Neither does he. Both of them are stubborn as hell. The world outside might as well not exist. It's just them. Just this unbearable, sizzling whatever happens when they are within a few feet of each other.

He keeps calling, sitting right next to her on his bike. She keeps ignoring it, her grip tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, while her other hand clutches the gun for dear life.

Finally, her hand trembles as she touches the green button, lifting the phone to her ear.

"Why the fuck are you not answering your damn phone?" his angry words echoes in the silence of her car.

But she doesn't utter a single word. Instead, She keeps hearing his breath come through the line, steady and deep. Her own breath quickens in response, matching the racing beat of her pulse. His chest rises and falls with each inhale, the fabric of his shirt stretched tight before it relaxed with his exhale. The sound of it is unnervingly clear, almost intimate. She's never been this close to anyone's breath, never felt the weight of it before. It should feel too distant, too casual, but it doesn't. It feels too real. Too close.

She can't break the stare. She can't tear her eyes away from his. She can't even speak, not with the air so thick. So, she just breathes. Quick, shallow breaths that gradually become deeper, slower, in sync with his.

He's always told her he'd kill her one day. It is always the end goal, isn't it?

Yet, when the day is finally upon them, she doesn't understand why she feels so overwhelmed. His words, the threat, they've always been a constant in their twisted dance.

But, now, it bothers her.

Deeply, very deeply.

Enough to blink and shift her gaze back to the road ahead. Enough to start the car. Enough to press the red button on her phone to break whatever strange, disturbing and unsettling pull keeps them tethered.

But it lingers. She doesn't understand it. She doesn't want to. So, she will run. She has to. He throws her off balance, forces her to feel things she doesn't want to feel. Her brain doesn't function properly right when he's around.

She will never willingly expose her jugular to the man who made a name for going straight for it. He will thrive on her weakness, will know exactly how to get under her skin, he already does.

"Fuck it," she hears him mutter, but before she can press the gas and flee, she sees him pull something from the side of the bike. With a swift motion, he slides it against her car door, and with a quiet click, her car lock pops open.

He tears the door open with brute force. Stunned, she watches as he snatches the car keys from the ignition.

"Stay right where you are," he orders, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for argument. He pockets her keys without a second glance and ventures right toward the now-crumpled Cruiser.

How dare he?

Then it dawns on her.

Oh, he isn't going to kill her. At least not yet. Maybe he doesn't know yet.

How did he know the wolves were going to attack her tonight? If so, how come the wolves know and he didn't?

The questions spin in her mind like a maze, each turns more confusing than the last. She looks around her, it's pointless to run on foot. If he doesn't kill her, she will surely be dead being lost in the unknown nowhere.

And, there's something inside her...an instinct, a dangerous curiosity...keeps her rooted to the spot. With a resigned breath, she opens the door and steps out, sliding the gun into the pocket of her dress.

She sees him punching the driver's side window of the Cruiser, shattering the glass. Then he unlocks the door and drags the driver's lifeless body out, tearing the shirt with a sharp yank. She watches him, his movements deliberate, as he searches the body, unfazed by the blood, the chaos. There's a dark certainty in the way he works.

He's searching for the initiation tattoos. The ones every member of the triad carries, tattoos marking their allegiance to their individual house.

Curious, she inches closer to see if they are indeed The Wolves, and unknowingly, the words slip out of her mouth. "Are they the Wolves?"

Suddenly, a movement caught her eyes,

a flash of a shadow stepping out from the back seat of the car. Before she can respond, a figure lunges at her.

As soon as an arm lock around her

from behind with a gun at her forehead, her instincts kick in. She wastes no time, bringing her heel down hard on the man's foot with a sharp stomp. He grunts, his grip loosening just slightly, but that is all she needs. With a swift jerk, she drives the back of her head up, slamming it into his face. His grip breaks as he reels back, his nose crunching under the impact.

Before he recovers, she spins around and raises her elbow, bringing it down with all her strength onto his nose. The crack echoes through the air, and he staggers, clutching his face as he drops to his knees on the ground.

And, then a shot rings out from behind her, making sure he remains on the ground. Flat and lifeless.

"I told you to stay in the car." His voice is low and cold.

She doesn't look at him, instead rubbing her elbow where it made contact with the man's face. Her tone is casual and dismissive as she answers, "I can take care of myself."

She feels his gaze on her. So, She meets his eyes and his arched eyebrow.

With a careless shrug, she adds, "It just doesn't work when it comes to you."

The dangerously infuriating smirk spreads across his lips. "How did you know they were The Wolves?"

"I didn't." She shrugs, her voice cool and uninterested, a deliberate choice to avoid getting caught in his web of questioning.

She turns away, striding back toward her car with purpose. She feels the heat of his presence right behind her. She doesn't need to look to know.

"My keys," she demands, when she reaches her car, holding out her hand, without turning.

He places the keys, hovering them above her hand. The cool metal grazes her fingers, teasing her, and she's just about to close her grip when he jerks them back. Her fiery hazels meet his cold browns. His lips twitch.

"Not so fast, Miss Gupta." His voice is soft velvet and dangerously close, brushing against her skin as he leans in, pressing her on the car, his hands on either side of her. She can feel the chill of the night air mingling with his heat. "First, tell me... why are The Wolves trying to kill you?"

"I don't know." She grits her teeth.

"So, you want to keep this up, huh?" he rasps softly. "Pretending you don't know anything? Or are you just waiting to see how far I'll go? Honestly, you should know by now...secrets and I? We're not friends."

"You know, for someone so keen on answers, you're awfully arrogant about getting them."

"And yet, here you are...in front of me, fighting to keep the truth..when we both know the truth is sitting right on the edge of that pretty mouth of yours." His voice inches closer as she denies to look at him, "Come on, Little bird, open up."

She glared up at him, determined not to let him see her squirm. "Maybe if you tried asking nicely, I'd tell you."

"I don't do 'nice," his smirk widens. "The way I look at it, I don't have to ask. I've got you right where I want you....Or should I say, exactly where you keep ending up?.... At my mercy."

"For the hundredth time, Mr. Raizada,... you don't scare me."

His next words come as a low murmur. "You know, Miss Gupta... your toes look particularly delicious. You don't need all of them to live, do you?....stop lying to yourself that I don't scare you. If so, then tell me...what are you afraid of?" She curses herself as her blood begins to boil. He keeps taunting her, "...Are you afraid that I might kill you?"

"If you want to kill me, then just do it. End this right here, right now," she spits the words out.

"Not going to lie, it's tempting."

"You know as well as I do why they're after me. So stop playing these games."

He tilts his head, a fleeting smirk plays at the edges of his mouth, "I know because that's my business...to know things. But how do you know? I didn't realize this was dinner table conversation among the serpents."

She meets his gaze, unflinching. "I wired my father's office. That's how I know it."

Both of his eyebrows arch as he says, "Impressive....you surprise me, Miss Gupta ...."

Her chin lifts slightly, a silent acknowledgement of her own skills.

He takes a step back from her, crossing his arm across his chest as he observes her. A small chuckles escape him as he speaks, "Ask, Little bird."

The question she's been avoiding spills from her lips. "Is this why you hate me so much? Is this why you want to kill me?"

"Care to elaborate. There are so many."

"Because the girl who was killed, Preetika Naik......she was your sister, wasn't she?"

"No."

She raises an eyebrow, taken aback. "No? No, she wasn't your sister, or no, that's not why you hate me?"

"No to both."

Her patience starts to fray, her pulse quickening with frustration. "Then why the fuck do you hate me?"

He steps closer, his movement deliberate, and his tone teasing. "Ask nicely, and I might just answer you," he says, tapping on her previous jab.

He won't. She was wrong earlier when she thought she couldn't read him at all. She can. She can read him, she can read his eyes, and it's clear to her now that he won't tell her. Not the way she wants him to.

"Why did you save my life?" she tries again.

"Who would find the hacker if not you," he replies, his voice smooth, like it's the most obvious answer in the world.

"For once, can you just answer a question straight?"

He smirks, eyes glinting. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

He grabs her hand like he has all the right over her and places the keys into her palm. His fingers brush against hers, sending a jolt through her that she quickly suppresses. Looking at the keys, she remembers.

"How did you open the car door?"

He shrugs, his tone nonchalant. "It's an automatic car lock opening device. Most average cars can be opened by it."

She stiffens at his words. How dare he call her car average? Her baby, which she brought with her honest money.

A silver Honda Civic.

"Don't call my car 'average'. I bought it with my hard-earned money from freelancing all those years in college. It doesn't have blood money all over it."

A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. The look only fuels her anger further.

"And why the fuck did you stop me here? I'd have been home by now, not stuck here, doing God knows what in the middle of nowhere," she snaps.

He pauses for a moment, his gaze scanning the empty road before locking back onto her. "I wasn't sure if others were waiting for you down the road."

She shoots him a withering look, "You don't have to escort me."

"I told you, little bird, I don't do that 'nice gentleman' thing ".

"What are you doing right now, then?"

"Making sure you go home safely so that a mafia war doesn't break out tomorrow."

She rolls her eyes and slides into the car, slamming the door shut with a huff. Her fingers grip the steering wheel, but she can't help but glance in the sideview mirror.

Her heart stutters as he straddles the bike. His thighs are on either side of the black beast, hips tilting with an almost sinful grace. Each movement is deliberate, hypnotic. His body shifts, commanding the beast as if it were his to tame. He twists the throttle, and the beast rumbles to life with a deep, guttural growl, like a predator answering his master's call. The sound fills the night, raw and alive and reverberates through her, each vibration like a pulse that echoes in her veins. .

She cranks the AC to full volume, the blast of cold air a futile attempt to cool the heat rising in her ears.

He follows her all the way through her house. His presence lingers in the air, settling into her skin like the dark night around her. For a moment, he is the night itself. Dangerous, untouchable, and yet impossibly close.

As the gates of Gupta's mansion creak open, she glances in the rearview mirror. She watches him drive away, swallowed up by the night. A quiet sigh escapes her lips, the knot in her chest loosening just a fraction as the weight of his presence lifts from the air.

Cutting the engine, she takes a few deep, steadying breaths. But, the calm doesn’t last long, though. Her phone buzzes again.

She picks up. That hauntingly husky voice slips through the line, making her eyes flutter closed as his words coil around her. Quiet and lethal.

“There was another reason why I showed up tonight.”

The air catches in her throat as she whispers, “What?”

The silence stretches across the line, taut and endless, until his voice returns.

“You owe me your death, Miss Gupta,” he speaks quietly, “Your. death. is.  mine." A pause. "....mine to take, mine to keep, mine to preserve."

With that, he cuts the call.

As the dark imprints of his words wraps their arms around her, she wonders...is it her life he’s after, or her very soul he’s set on destroying?"

Piece by piece.

Author's note:

I am writing long chapters these days. Do you guys like long chapters or short chapters? Let me know.

See you soon.

<previous> | <next>

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @chutkiandchotte @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chaiandtakkar @9artsdragon @titaliya

[transmascsteveharrington]

demiromantic steve ficlet because mom said it's my time to project onto him

Throughout most of Steve's childhood love is absent. His parents teach him about disdain, desolation and neglect instead. Still, Steve kinda obsesses over love, listens enraptured when his nannies read him fairytales about true love's kiss and love that saves the day and even love that conquers death. He thinks about how love could fill his life while he sits in a house bursting with emptiness, echoing with despair. Love might be absent, but Steve still yearns for it.

When his friends are getting their first crushes, Steve doesn't get it though. Sure, some girls are pretty (and some guys but apparently no one ever talks about that Steve sure won't bring it up) but the butterflies, the sweaty hands the hearts skipping beats never happen for him. So either everyone is lying to him about love or Steve is broken. He doesn't allow himself to dwell on that thought. Instead, if a girl shows interest in him, Steve talks himself into being in love, /decides/ that now he is in love with that girl. He almost buys is own lie especially because it still hurts when they leave. But it doesn't hurt because Steve lost the girl, it hurts because apparently, he was not good enough for her.

And then comes Nancy Wheeler. They dance around each other at a couple of parties, figuratively and literally before they finally kiss at one. Nancy is nice, smart, witty, pretty much perfect. Steve might not get the butterflies in his stomach, but he genuinely really likes spending time with her, kissing her, sleeping with her. it's only after the upside down, after they have seen each other bleed, after they have been bound together by secrets and trauma, after Steve feels like they know each other inside and out that his heart suddenly kicks into overdrive. They are just sitting on the couch, arms around each other and for a second Steve thinks he is having a panic attack, only that the usual dread stays out and he realizes that this feeling? This indescribable fondness, the magnetic pull in his chest, the adrenaline-filled tingling in his entire body? It's love. It makes their break-up feel even worse and Steve suffers from his first genuine heartbreak.

After that Steve is a mess, kinda gives up again on the idea of love. Sleeps around, never manages to bond with anyone really. Stops telling himself that he is in love just because someone is interested. There is a brief interlude to his self-loathing.

The summer with Robin feels like a build-up, getting Steve closer and closer to the edge and he knows maybe a week more and he will be falling. He doesn't in the end, but he still loves her nevertheless. Just a different kind of love than he expected.

Steve tries after that. Tries to give his dates a chance, but none of them feel right. The longest he lasts is when he goes on three days with Marcia Wellburn and she tells Steve that she likes him. It's nice, but Steve doesn't feel the same. Considers for a moment, maybe if he had more time to get to know her, to truly get to know her he could like her too. But that would feel like leading her on and thanks to Nancy he knows that you can't force yourself to be in love. So he ends it with Marcia, grabs snacks and a movie and crashes on Robin's couch and complains about his sucky love life.

Eddie is the first guy Steve truly admits to himself being hot. He thinks about Eddie a lot, about kissing Eddie, about sleeping with Eddie, about finding out what the sweat on his skin tastes like. But Steve never does anything about it. He knows he could, Eddie came out to the gang relatively quickly, no point in getting attached to the people who saved the world and your life if they might kick you out of their little found family over your sexuality. But no one had done any kicking, if anything it had brought Eddie a little bit closer to them all.

So Steve could def make a move, flirt a little and be flirted back with. But he doesn't. He doesn't want to jeopardize their friendship like and he is done with meaningless sex. Is so tired of interchangeable bodies and lack of feelings. And it's enough for now. He has his friends, his little family, love is no longer absent in his life. Sure, a relationship would be nice, the little cherry on top, but the hassle just doesn't seem worth it. Steve knows it takes him forever to fall and he is still worried about leading people on.

It's late autumn when things change. Steve has spend the entire day with Eddie, just hanging out and shooting shit nothing special. But as Steve drives home through the dark of the night he can't help but already miss Eddie. Which is stupid they hung out all day. But his heart aches just with how much he loves Eddie. Platonically of course, but god, Steve loves him so much, is so glad that Eddie is in his life.

It should have been the tipping point, should have clued Steve in, but not quite yet. Steve has his lightbulb moment two weeks later. He, Robin and Eddie are at a Halloween party in Indy, friends of Eddie's, almost completely queer group. It's nice, welcoming, makes Steve forget how much he hates Halloween parties. The trio is talking when a slightly tipsy mummy approaches them and says, "you really make a cute couple."

"Oh Robin and I aren't dating," Steve says, used to people assuming that they are together. The mummy shakes her head.

"I meant you and Dracula," she says and nods towards Eddie in his vampire costume. It makes both of them blush and splutter.

"We're not dating either," Eddie corrects her.

Steve gets how the mummy might have gotten to the wrong conclusion though, they are standing close after all, sharing personal space, leaning against each other, always gravitating around each other. They're always touching, always whispering and especially tonight Steve can't stop staring at Eddie's lips. They are not dating, but god Steve really wants them to be. The realization hits him like a wall of bricks. He glances at Eddie, managing to look both hot and dorky with his fake vampire teeth, the bloody makeup, hair messier than usual.

Steve thinks about how much Eddie gets him, how he never makes Steve feel stupid, how he takes the time to explain his nerdy references to Steve, how when they are in a group he always listens to Steve telling a story even when everyone else is ignoring him. Steve thinks about the time they fell asleep on the couch and woke up in each other's arms and how that had been the best morning in a long time and yup, yes, there it is: a storm of butterflies in his stomach, his heart skipping enough beats it might as well go into cardiac arrest, the tingling all over his body. He is in love with Eddie. The all-consuming, potentially life-ruining, breathtaking kind of love. And a couple of drinks, a game of spin the bottle and a life-changing first kiss later, Steve finds out that Eddie feels exactly the same.

[jebewonmorelike]

I Am The Boyfriend, Sir

wc: 1.5k pronouns: she/her (he/him and they/them versions are below original!) warnings: junhyeon being unhinged, ~flirtatious ending~, allusion to strict parents, fluff summary: kum junhyeon is SO excited to finally meet your parents... what could possibly go wrong? ~bp masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ THE HOURS. ARE DWINDLING. THE END. IS NYE. THE APOCALYPSE NEAR. BEP1ER IS APPROACHING RAPIDLY. i don't want to stop writing about any of these guys. i don't want to stop seeing any of themmm. i love them so much. catch me in therapy tomorrow only talking about boys planet istg.

"I think they're gonna love me," Junhyeon predicts as he hops out of the car. You grab your bag from the floor and start to open the passenger door, but your boyfriend beats you to it. He holds his hand out to help you chivalrously with a cheeky grin.

"Thank you, kind sir," you tease as you step out of the car. He laughs, taking your bag from you and throwing it over his shoulder along with his own. 

"I'm so excited," Junhyeon relays, grabbing your hand and forcing you to jump up and down with him as you walk up to your parents' front door. "I can't believe I'm about to meet the people who made you who you are! I bet they're just as fun as you."

"Well..." You start to interject, but he continues on.

"Ugh, I've seen this moment in dramas a bunch of times. The male lead is always stressing out about meeting 'the family'," Junhyeon babbles as you ring the doorbell. "It's so annoying! Like, what are you so worried about? That your father-in-law is going to--."

Just then, the door swings open to reveal your dad. Six-foot-four and brawny, a greying mustache, and wearing his Marines t-shirt that you always begged him not to wear when you had guests over, your dad blinks back at the two of you in the doorway.

"Kill you," Junhyeon finishes his sentence in a whisper as he takes in your dad's massive build.

Your dad gives you a warm smile. "Hey, peanut," he says gruffly, then turns to Junhyeon; giving him a once over. "So you're the boyfriend?"

“YES, SIR!” Junhyeon jumps to attention, dropping your hand as quickly as possible and saluting your dad. "I AM THE BOYFRIEND, SIR!"

Your dad shoots you a concerned look as you reach up and pry your boyfriend's hand from his forehead. "Dad, this is Junhyeon."

"Junhyeon, huh?" Your dad nods thoughtfully. "I had a buddy in the service named Junhyeon."

Your boyfriend grins and you can tell he's revving up for a joke. "Is he handsome, too? I wouldn't want you to get us mixed up."

"He's dead," your dad announces dryly.

Your bag drops from Junhyeon's shoulder to the ground as shock takes over his whole body.

Your dad snorts. "I'm just messing with ya, kid. Come on in; your mother's setting the table."

Shaking your head hopelessly, you finally step past your dad through the door and into the house. When you realize Junhyeon isn't following you, you turn around to see what the hold up is.

"Junhyeon?" You begin to question before you see your boyfriend on the ground in a full bow in front of your father.

"Thank you for letting me into your home, sir. I appreciate so deeply your hospitality and kindness," Junhyeon pleads as you walk back over to him and pull him up by the neck of his t-shirt.

"Let's go," you say exasperatedly, dragging him through the front door and into your house. Your mom walks out from the kitchen into the living room, smiling at you.

"Hi, peanut," she greets softly, giving you a pat on the cheek before turning to your boyfriend. "It's nice to meet you, Junhyeon."

Junhyeon nods respectfully at your mom, whose hair is tied up in a tight bun with her rectangular framed glasses sitting towards the end of her nose. A research librarian, your mom was quiet and caring by nature-- but she valued discipline and quiet just as much as your dad while you were growing up.

"You kids can drop your things off upstairs and freshen up before we eat," your mom directs. "There's clean sheets on the guest room to the right."

Junhyeon's eyes bug incredulously. "We--... You want us to sleep in the same room!?"

Your mom glances at you. "Is that a problem?"

Junhyeon nods vigorously, checking over his shoulder to see your dad sitting in the arm chair behind you. "We won't be sharing a bed until we're married!"

You grab your boyfriend's sleeve, pulling him towards the stairs and up to the guest room-- shutting the door quickly behind you.

"Baby, what the hell are you doing?" You ask, watching as Junhyeon sits down on the bed quite cautiously.

"I--... I don't know," he says, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm so scared."

You can't help but laugh at your boyfriend's complete attitude change. In the car he couldn't shut up about how good he is with parents; how his friends' dads always adore him more than their own sons...

And now, here he is: head in his hands on the verge of combustion from terror.

"I know they can come off a little intimidating at first," you soothe, walking over to Junhyeon. He rests his head on your stomach and you run your fingers through his hair soothingly. "But I promise their bite isn't nearly as bad as their bark."

"He's so big," Junhyeon whispers. "How does he even fit through the door?"

"Well, they actually had custom doorframes built in this new house..." You trail off when you see him looking up at you with a worry you'd never really seen on him before. "Hyeonni, it's going to be absolutely fine. Didn't you say you were excited to meet the people who made me who I am?"

Junhyeon laughs sadly. "But you're so... I mean, you're..."

"Fun? Light-hearted? Whimsical? Care-free?" You suggest, Junhyeon nodding enthusiastically in response.

"Exactly!" He agrees, eyes widening as he makes a clarification. "Not that there's anything wrong with them or anything! You're just really different, is all."

“I actually evolved more in response to my upbringing," you say with a sigh. "Not in accordance with it."

Junhyeon puckers his lips cutely and you lean down to kiss him. He wraps his arms around your waist tightly, deepening the kiss.

"Two minutes!" Your mom calls up the stairs, causing Junhyeon to jump back up to attention-- almost knocking you over in the process. He catches you quickly with one arm and spins you around, placing you down firmly in the spot he was just sitting.

"Trying to steal my innocence," he shames, clicking his tongue and shaking his head disapprovingly as he makes his way to the bathroom. "It's like you want your dad to bury me in the backyard."

~

You watch as Junhyeon takes very careful, calculated bites of his steak; cutting respectfully with the knife and fork provided to him. Usually he'd just shove the meat in his face and nearly swallow it whole.

"I heard you were thinking of moving in together," your mom says, smiling politely at the two of you.

Junhyeon blinks nervously. "No, no. Me and her? No. No way. Absolutely not."

"Oh," your mom replies in surprise. "(Y/N) told us that--."

Junhyeon interrupts: "(Y/N) is an evil temptress and I am but a mere victim."

Your dad chokes on his water.

"Junhyeon," you try to intercept to no avail.

"We will not be moving in together. We don't have any physical contact-- not even platonically. This is actually the first time I've seen her in a month," your panicked boyfriend rambles, the lies just rolling off his tongue.

"Son, if you're worries about offending us--," your dad tries to deescalate but Junhyeon continues.

“I don’t even look at her, sir!"

“You don’t look at her?” Your dad repeats, brows furrowed concernedly as he glances at you.

Junhyeon shakes his head furiously. “I respect your daughter far too much to taint her with my gaze, SIR!"

“Junhyeon—," you try again.

“I only plan to look at her for the first time on our wedding day!”

One last time, you try, “Hyeonni—.”

“Hyeonni!?” Junhyeon’s eyes bug out of his head incredulously, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Are you crazy!? Your dad could kill me with his bare hands.”

Your dad looks down at his hands with a frown as he freezes in the middle of cutting his steak.

“He’s literally holding a knife!” Junhyeon exclaims, giving up on his piss poor attempt to be discreet. “(Y/N), I know you want me, but you can’t have me if I’m dead!”

Suddenly, your dad begins to laugh heartily-- something you've only heard about a handful of times in your life. “Where did you find this guy, peanut? He’s got quite the sense of humor.”

"He does. Doesn't he?" You agree tersely, glaring at your boyfriend.

Your dad places his fork and knife down, announcing decisively: "I like him."

Your eyes widen in surprise as Junhyeon stares back at your father, equally stunned. "You do?"

"You do!?" Junhyeon repeats hopefully, clasping his hands together as if he's praying for it to be true.

Your dad picks his fork and knife back up, continuing to cut into his steak. "He's a little odd, but I think he really likes you... In his own way."

Junhyeon nods enthusiastically. "I do! I really do!"

You smile at him, biting your lip as you look at the sweet, considerate, and absolutely insane boy sitting next to you.

"I really like him, too."

~

Junhyeon flops down on the bed, arms above his head as he smiles happily to himself.

The night had passed by fairly smoothly after that-- your parents patting you on the back lovingly and congratulating you on finding such a good match for yourself.

"That was awesome," Junhyeon says with a sigh. "I don't know what you were so worried about!"

You chew your cheek as you grin, suppressing the urge to smack him. "You wouldn't even kiss me, you were so worried," he says, sitting up and looking around with his eyebrows raised as if he's checking that no one else is in the room. Finally, he gazes back up at you with a shrug.

"Wanna make out?"

<3

he/him pronoun users :)

"I think they're gonna love me," Junhyeon predicts as he hops out of the car. You grab your bag from the floor and start to open the passenger door, but your boyfriend beats you to it. He holds his hand out to help you chivalrously with a cheeky grin.

"Thank you, kind sir," you tease as you step out of the car. He laughs, taking your bag from you and throwing it over his shoulder along with his own. 

"I'm so excited," Junhyeon relays, grabbing your hand and forcing you to jump up and down with him as you walk up to your parents' front door. "I can't believe I'm about to meet the people who made you who you are! I bet they're just as fun as you."

"Well..." You start to interject, but he continues on.

"Ugh, I've seen this moment in dramas a bunch of times. The male lead is always stressing out about meeting 'the family'," Junhyeon babbles as you ring the doorbell. "It's so annoying! Like, what are you so worried about? That your father-in-law is going to--."

Just then, the door swings open to reveal your dad. Six-foot-four and brawny, a greying mustache, and wearing his Marines t-shirt that you always begged him not to wear when you had guests over, your dad blinks back at the two of you in the doorway.

"Kill you," Junhyeon finishes his sentence in a whisper as he takes in your dad's massive build.

Your dad gives you a warm smile. "Hey, peanut," he says gruffly, then turns to Junhyeon; giving him a once over. "So you're the boyfriend?"

“YES, SIR!” Junhyeon jumps to attention, dropping your hand as quickly as possible and saluting your dad. "I AM THE BOYFRIEND, SIR!"

Your dad shoots you a concerned look as you reach up and pry your boyfriend's hand from his forehead. "Dad, this is Junhyeon."

"Junhyeon, huh?" Your dad nods thoughtfully. "I had a buddy in the service named Junhyeon."

Your boyfriend grins and you can tell he's revving up for a joke. "Is he handsome, too? I wouldn't want you to get us mixed up."

"He's dead," your dad announces dryly.

Your bag drops from Junhyeon's shoulder to the ground as shock takes over his whole body.

Your dad snorts. "I'm just messing with ya, kid. Come on in; your mother's setting the table."

Shaking your head hopelessly, you finally step past your dad through the door and into the house. When you realize Junhyeon isn't following you, you turn around to see what the hold up is.

"Junhyeon?" You begin to question before you see your boyfriend on the ground in a full bow in front of your father.

"Thank you for letting me into your home, sir. I appreciate so deeply your hospitality and kindness," Junhyeon pleads as you walk back over to him and pull him up by the neck of his t-shirt.

"Let's go," you say exasperatedly, dragging him through the front door and into your house. Your mom walks out from the kitchen into the living room, smiling at you.

"Hi, peanut," she greets softly, giving you a pat on the cheek before turning to your boyfriend. "It's nice to meet you, Junhyeon."

Junhyeon nods respectfully at your mom, whose hair is tied up in a tight bun with her rectangular framed glasses sitting towards the end of her nose. A research librarian, your mom was quiet and caring by nature-- but she valued discipline and quiet just as much as your dad while you were growing up.

"You kids can drop your things off upstairs and freshen up before we eat," your mom directs. "There's clean sheets on the guest room to the right."

Junhyeon's eyes bug incredulously. "We--... You want us to sleep in the same room!?"

Your mom glances at you. "Is that a problem?"

Junhyeon nods vigorously, checking over his shoulder to see your dad sitting in the arm chair behind you. "We won't be sharing a bed until we're married!"

You grab your boyfriend's sleeve, pulling him towards the stairs and up to the guest room-- shutting the door quickly behind you.

"Baby, what the hell are you doing?" You ask, watching as Junhyeon sits down on the bed quite cautiously.

"I--... I don't know," he says, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm so scared."

You can't help but laugh at your boyfriend's complete attitude change. In the car he couldn't shut up about how good he is with parents; how his friends' dads always adore him more than their own sons...

And now, here he is: head in his hands on the verge of combustion from terror.

"I know they can come off a little intimidating at first," you soothe, walking over to Junhyeon. He rests his head on your stomach and you run your fingers through his hair soothingly. "But I promise their bite isn't nearly as bad as their bark."

"He's so big," Junhyeon whispers. "How does he even fit through the door?"

"Well, they actually had custom doorframes built in this new house..." You trail off when you see him looking up at you with a worry you'd never really seen on him before. "Hyeonni, it's going to be absolutely fine. Didn't you say you were excited to meet the people who made me who I am?"

Junhyeon laughs sadly. "But you're so... I mean, you're..."

"Fun? Light-hearted? Whimsical? Care-free?" You suggest, Junhyeon nodding enthusiastically in response.

"Exactly!" He agrees, eyes widening as he makes a clarification. "Not that there's anything wrong with them or anything! You're just really different, is all."

“I actually evolved more in response to my upbringing," you say with a sigh. "Not in accordance with it."

Junhyeon puckers his lips cutely and you lean down to kiss him. He wraps his arms around your waist tightly, deepening the kiss.

"Two minutes!" Your mom calls up the stairs, causing Junhyeon to jump back up to attention-- almost knocking you over in the process. He catches you quickly with one arm and spins you around, placing you down firmly in the spot he was just sitting.

"Trying to steal my innocence," he shames, clicking his tongue and shaking his head disapprovingly as he makes his way to the bathroom. "It's like you want your dad to bury me in the backyard."

~

You watch as Junhyeon takes very careful, calculated bites of his steak; cutting respectfully with the knife and fork provided to him. Usually he'd just shove the meat in his face and nearly swallow it whole.

"I heard you were thinking of moving in together," your mom says, smiling politely at the two of you.

Junhyeon blinks nervously. "No, no. Me and him? No. No way. Absolutely not."

"Oh," your mom replies in surprise. "(Y/N) told us that--."

Junhyeon interrupts: "(Y/N) is an evil seducer and I am but a mere victim."

Your dad chokes on his water.

"Junhyeon," you try to intervene to no avail.

"We will not be moving in together. We don't have any physical contact-- not even platonically. This is actually the first time I've seen him in a month," your panicked boyfriend rambles, the lies just rolling off his tongue.

"Son, if you're worries about offending us--," your dad tries to deescalate but Junhyeon continues.

“I don’t even look at him, sir!"

“You don’t look at him?” Your dad repeats, brows furrowed concernedly as he glances at you.

Junhyeon shakes his head furiously. “I respect your son far too much to taint him with my gaze, SIR!"

“Junhyeon—," you try again.

“I only plan to look at him for the first time on our wedding day!”

One last time, you try, “Hyeonni—.”

“Hyeonni!?” Junhyeon’s eyes bug out of his head incredulously, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Are you crazy!? Your dad could kill me with his bare hands.”

Your dad looks down at his hands with a frown as he freezes in the middle of cutting his steak.

“He’s literally holding a knife!” Junhyeon exclaims, giving up on his piss poor attempt to be discreet. “(Y/N), I know you want me, but you can’t have me if I’m dead!”

Suddenly, your dad begins to laugh heartily-- something you've only heard about a handful of times in your life. “Where did you find this guy, peanut? He’s got quite the sense of humor.”

"He does. Doesn't he?" You agree tersely, glaring at your boyfriend.

Your dad places his fork and knife down, announcing decisively: "I like him."

Your eyes widen in surprise as Junhyeon stares back at your father, equally stunned. "You do?"

"You do!?" Junhyeon repeats hopefully, clasping his hands together as if he's praying for it to be true.

Your dad picks his fork and knife back up, continuing to cut into his steak. "He's a little odd, but I think he really likes you... In his own way."

Junhyeon nods enthusiastically. "I do! I really do!"

You smile at him, biting your lip as you look at the sweet, considerate, and absolutely insane boy sitting next to you.

"I really like him, too."

~

Junhyeon flops down on the bed, arms above his head as he smiles happily to himself.

The night had passed by fairly smoothly after that-- your parents patting you on the back lovingly and congratulating you on finding such a good match for yourself.

"That was awesome," Junhyeon says with a sigh. "I don't know what you were so worried about!"

You chew your cheek as you grin, suppressing the urge to smack him. "You wouldn't even kiss me, you were so worried," he says, sitting up and looking around with his eyebrows raised as if he's checking that no one else is in the room. Finally, he gazes back up at you with a shrug.

"Wanna make out?"

<3

they/them pronoun users ~ gender neutral :)

"I think they're gonna love me," Junhyeon predicts as he hops out of the car. You grab your bag from the floor and start to open the passenger door, but your boyfriend beats you to it. He holds his hand out to help you chivalrously with a cheeky grin.

"Thank you, kind sir," you tease as you step out of the car. He laughs, taking your bag from you and throwing it over his shoulder along with his own. 

"I'm so excited," Junhyeon relays, grabbing your hand and forcing you to jump up and down with him as you walk up to your parents' front door. "I can't believe I'm about to meet the people who made you who you are! I bet they're just as fun as you."

"Well..." You start to interject, but he continues on.

"Ugh, I've seen this moment in dramas a bunch of times. The male lead is always stressing out about meeting 'the family'," Junhyeon babbles as you ring the doorbell. "It's so annoying! Like, what are you so worried about? That your father-in-law is going to--."

Just then, the door swings open to reveal your dad. Six-foot-four and brawny, a greying mustache, and wearing his Marines t-shirt that you always begged him not to wear when you had guests over, your dad blinks back at the two of you in the doorway.

"Kill you," Junhyeon finishes his sentence in a whisper as he takes in your dad's massive build.

Your dad gives you a warm smile. "Hey, peanut," he says gruffly, then turns to Junhyeon; giving him a once over. "So you're the boyfriend?"

“YES, SIR!” Junhyeon jumps to attention, dropping your hand as quickly as possible and saluting your dad. "I AM THE BOYFRIEND, SIR!"

Your dad shoots you a concerned look as you reach up and pry your boyfriend's hand from his forehead. "Dad, this is Junhyeon."

"Junhyeon, huh?" Your dad nods thoughtfully. "I had a buddy in the service named Junhyeon."

Your boyfriend grins and you can tell he's revving up for a joke. "Is he handsome, too? I wouldn't want you to get us mixed up."

"He's dead," your dad announces dryly.

Your bag drops from Junhyeon's shoulder to the ground as shock takes over his whole body.

Your dad snorts. "I'm just messing with ya, kid. Come on in; your mother's setting the table."

Shaking your head hopelessly, you finally step past your dad through the door and into the house. When you realize Junhyeon isn't following you, you turn around to see what the hold up is.

"Junhyeon?" You begin to question before you see your boyfriend on the ground in a full bow in front of your father.

"Thank you for letting me into your home, sir. I appreciate so deeply your hospitality and kindness," Junhyeon pleads as you walk back over to him and pull him up by the neck of his t-shirt.

"Let's go," you say exasperatedly, dragging him through the front door and into your house. Your mom walks out from the kitchen into the living room, smiling at you.

"Hi, peanut," she greets softly, giving you a pat on the cheek before turning to your boyfriend. "It's nice to meet you, Junhyeon."

Junhyeon nods respectfully at your mom, whose hair is tied up in a tight bun with her rectangular framed glasses sitting towards the end of her nose. A research librarian, your mom was quiet and caring by nature-- but she valued discipline and quiet just as much as your dad while you were growing up.

"You kids can drop your things off upstairs and freshen up before we eat," your mom directs. "There's clean sheets on the guest room to the right."

Junhyeon's eyes bug incredulously. "We--... You want us to sleep in the same room!?"

Your mom glances at you. "Is that a problem?"

Junhyeon nods vigorously, checking over his shoulder to see your dad sitting in the arm chair behind you. "We won't be sharing a bed until we're married!"

You grab your boyfriend's sleeve, pulling him towards the stairs and up to the guest room-- shutting the door quickly behind you.

"Baby, what the hell are you doing?" You ask, watching as Junhyeon sits down on the bed quite cautiously.

"I--... I don't know," he says, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm so scared."

You can't help but laugh at your boyfriend's complete attitude change. In the car he couldn't shut up about how good he is with parents; how his friends' dads always adore him more than their own sons...

And now, here he is: head in his hands on the verge of combustion from terror.

"I know they can come off a little intimidating at first," you soothe, walking over to Junhyeon. He rests his head on your stomach and you run your fingers through his hair soothingly. "But I promise their bite isn't nearly as bad as their bark."

"He's so big," Junhyeon whispers. "How does he even fit through the door?"

"Well, they actually had custom doorframes built in this new house..." You trail off when you see him looking up at you with a worry you'd never really seen on him before. "Hyeonni, it's going to be absolutely fine. Didn't you say you were excited to meet the people who made me who I am?"

Junhyeon laughs sadly. "But you're so... I mean, you're..."

"Fun? Light-hearted? Whimsical? Care-free?" You suggest, Junhyeon nodding enthusiastically in response.

"Exactly!" He agrees, eyes widening as he makes a clarification. "Not that there's anything wrong with them or anything! You're just really different, is all."

“I actually evolved more in response to my upbringing," you say with a sigh. "Not in accordance with it."

Junhyeon puckers his lips cutely and you lean down to kiss him. He wraps his arms around your waist tightly, deepening the kiss.

"Two minutes!" Your mom calls up the stairs, causing Junhyeon to jump back up to attention-- almost knocking you over in the process. He catches you quickly with one arm and spins you around, placing you down firmly in the spot he was just sitting.

"Trying to steal my innocence," he shames, clicking his tongue and shaking his head disapprovingly as he makes his way to the bathroom. "It's like you want your dad to bury me in the backyard."

~

You watch as Junhyeon takes very careful, calculated bites of his steak; cutting respectfully with the knife and fork provided to him. Usually he'd just shove the meat in his face and nearly swallow it whole.

"I heard you were thinking of moving in together," your mom says, smiling politely at the two of you.

Junhyeon blinks nervously. "No, no. Me and (Y/N)? No. No way. Absolutely not."

"Oh," your mom replies in surprise. "(Y/N) told us that--."

Junhyeon interrupts: "(Y/N) is an evil seducer and I am but a mere victim."

Your dad chokes on his water.

"Junhyeon," you try to intercept to no avail.

"We will not be moving in together. We don't have any physical contact-- not even platonically. This is actually the first time I've seen them in a month," your panicked boyfriend rambles, the lies just rolling off his tongue.

"Son, if you're worries about offending us--," your dad tries to deescalate but Junhyeon continues.

“I don’t even look at them, sir!"

“You don’t look at them?” Your dad repeats, brows furrowed concernedly as he glances at you.

Junhyeon shakes his head furiously. “I respect your child far too much to taint them with my gaze, SIR!"

“Junhyeon—," you try again.

“I only plan to look at them for the first time on our wedding day!”

One last time, you try, “Hyeonni—.”

“Hyeonni!?” Junhyeon’s eyes bug out of his head incredulously, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Are you crazy!? Your dad could kill me with his bare hands.”

Your dad looks down at his hands with a frown as he freezes in the middle of cutting his steak.

“He’s literally holding a knife!” Junhyeon exclaims, giving up on his piss poor attempt to be discreet. “(Y/N), I know you want me, but you can’t have me if I’m dead!”

Suddenly, your dad begins to laugh heartily-- something you've only heard about a handful of times in your life. “Where did you find this guy, peanut? He’s got quite the sense of humor.”

"He does. Doesn't he?" You agree tersely, glaring at your boyfriend.

Your dad places his fork and knife down, announcing decisively: "I like him."

Your eyes widen in surprise as Junhyeon stares back at your father, equally stunned. "You do?"

"You do!?" Junhyeon repeats hopefully, clasping his hands together as if he's praying for it to be true.

Your dad picks his fork and knife back up, continuing to cut into his steak. "He's a little odd, but I think he really likes you... In his own way."

Junhyeon nods enthusiastically. "I do! I really do!"

You smile at him, biting your lip as you look at the sweet, considerate, and absolutely insane boy sitting next to you.

"I really like him, too."

~

Junhyeon flops down on the bed, arms above his head as he smiles happily to himself.

The night had passed by fairly smoothly after that-- your parents patting you on the back lovingly and congratulating you on finding such a good match for yourself.

"That was awesome," Junhyeon says with a sigh. "I don't know what you were so worried about!"

You chew your cheek as you grin, suppressing the urge to smack him. "You wouldn't even kiss me, you were so worried," he says, sitting up and looking around with his eyebrows raised as if he's checking that no one else is in the room. Finally, he gazes back up at you with a shrug.

"Wanna make out?"

[mylittleredgirl]

For the ship it or not game: Benjamin x Kasidy, please?

(ship asks)

I Ship It

1. What made you ship it?

they literally COULD NOT have written a better love interest for ben sisko, and they put them together so thoughtfully. jake sets them up -- after a build-up where we see jake turning into a young man thinking about his future and really wanting his dad to have someone. i love that she's a freighter captain, a type of person in the ds9 universe who we have never really gotten to know, and essentially a grounding element -- she's a civilian living her own life who is (at first) totally uninvolved in the a-plot. and she knows about baseball!! the sheer joy i felt watching her walk in in her second appearance in "the way of the warrior" and they're already together and falling in love...

i couldn't find a great two shot of them so look at these caps from the "don't get killed" moment in the way of the warrior........ ROMANCEEEE

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

it's such a good relationship!!!! they're mature, open, respectful, demonstrative, sexy... every beat is so potent and it expands into episodes she's not even in. i love her, i love her for him, i love him for her, and i LOVE her relationship with jake. their love stories are both heavy and light ("it's a big step") but there's never a flippancy to their relationship ever. and hooooooly shit. for the cause. i remember my dad showing me the last scene of casablanca like "this is the end scene of all time" but have you seen the last scene of for the cause.

genuinely i think this would be THE undisputed together-on-screen-in-canon star trek relationship of all time if it weren't for the fact that kasidy is a guest star and, while she has a rich implied life and does develop and grow, we never get the full main character treatment with her like we do with riker/troi and paul/hugh (and michael/book because book is also a guest star but he's a driving force of the a-plot of a whole season).

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

i think most people probably agree with me tbh that it's an incredible ship that's electric on-screen and underrepresented in fanworks. i don't know if people agree that the last part of their arc was the weakest part because it was rushed (that engagement scene was so sweet though!! it's your house i want it to be our house!!), and i don't really like unplanned pregnancy as a trope (planned pregnancy? yes please!). like yes, her entire presence in the series has always been to serve his emotional story, but this felt different. until that point, her life between episodes was mostly implied until it intersected with the plot, but it was important to her and believable. in the final chapter it vanished completely, and i can't remember if she ever made that an intentional choice (or, if she did, if that choice was given enough weight).

[tjodity]

Oo what about cHannah?

I'm just getting increasingly enraptured with her. Summaries for lore are helpful but going back and rifling through old vods gives me such deeper impressions of their characters. She talked about how she's aware of how women and femininity are usually ignored and underestimated and how she actively plays up femininity in her builds and general vibe so she can catch them off guard and kill them more easily, and also how her evil lair thing under her base isn't representative of her either and is exaggerated partially as an intimidation tactic. It's interesting to me how these things aren't necessarily 'acts' but that she leans into certain aspects of her personality while masking others depending on the situation. It's also more apparent in more subtle things like her level of politeness, how much she insults people, whether or not she makes an effort not to swear, etc. I think it's fun that she is a person who will insult and argue with you more if she likes/trusts you and I think it's an interesting and subtle level of guardedness for her character.

I also think it's interesting how much she enjoys fighting. Some characters like the feeling of violence or control or vengeance but she enjoys the act of fighting and it like. is very neat to think abt seriously. When she's running around on the first day she thinks its stupid that she's fighting zombies, not because they're irritating but because she thinks they're below her to fight. She lists her ability to kill other people with pride and a main core fact about her. The context to her joining the server is her losing in a fight to Dream but beating Punz. She is actively excited to fight Sapnap when Puffy tells her about him. She gets into repeated rematch fights with Punz outside his house. I think the only other character I've seen on the SMP that actually likes fighting as much as her is maybe Techno.

I also am fascinated by what Hannah's afraid of and what she's not afraid of. She's terrified of cave spiders because they've killed her in her previous hardcore worlds. When she and puffy get trapped in a void maze trap and Puffy's freaking out she just silently brute forces her way to an exit and seems undisturbed, but she's very scared when she thinks the two of them are lost and can't get back to the main SMP. She's initially freaked out by the Egg vines and says that they look 'poisonous' but after Puffy explains it to her she is totally frightened by it. She believes that it's evil and that it can mind control people and she's cautious but not. afraid in the same way other characters are.

One last thing I looooooove how much she carries over from her old experiences. As said before she's scared of cave spiders due to a hardcore series but also carries a bunch of her stuff on her instead of storing it and makes a ton of crafting tables because of it. She calls the Central SMP 'Mid' out of habit from Minecraft Hunger Games. Her entire fighting thing and most of her pre-smp knowledge of other characters comes from bedwars and other fighting minigames. I just like when people do that