#you're not a nasty woman you're just an asshole

[dinogoofymutated]

Jealousy headcannons! Multi/GN!Reader - Cable, Gambit, Nightcrawler, Quicksilver. Ok I know this wasn't on the schedule butttt Yeahhhh. Cable is going to have an extended version of his fic, and I might do the same for the others but no promises! Also I know that Cable's written half is literally just the snippet I shared with some minor edits but bear with me please his stuff is in the works!!! TWs: Jelousy. Barfights. No violence on Reader but men are creepy. Mentions of sex work. Cable and gambit make public spectacles it's just what they do. The return of wolverine and the X-men Pietro bc I love him

Cable

Look, any man who comes over to flirt with you after you walk in with a legit wall of muscle has to be either stupid or blind.

Cable is by no means a very jealous man. He's not gonna care if a man (or woman) approaches you and starts up a conversation. He might get a little frustrated if they start flirting with you, but he trusts you. He knows you can take care of yourself and he doesn't want you to feel like he's got you on a leash.

But when someone is being persistent, not taking no for an answer, and hell, putting their hands on you? He doesn't take it too well. He's more of an overprotective type when it comes to his flavor of jealousy.

    “That beer for me, Beautiful?” The voice of a stranger cuts through your thoughts, and to be honest, you don’t even think he’s talking to you until you realize how close to you he is. He’s sat on the barstool next to you, leaning towards you like he can’t quite catch his balance. You make a face at him, nonchalantly moving Cable’s beer closer.

    “Last time I checked it wasn’t.” You say curtly. The man has a smile hiding behind his pout as he leans a little closer to you, oblivious to the way you casually recoil from him.

    “Oh c'mon, don’t play hard to get. I’m chill!” You can tell this guy is most definitely drunk, and you find yourself trying not to roll your eyes at him. If only he knew what kind of trouble he was in.

    “Sure you are. But believe me, my Husband is not.” You tell him. You're not married, but to be honest, you knew this guy wasn't going to leave you be if you left him with some vague label. Didn't matter anyway, however, the stranger laughs in your face, and his breath smells like alcohol and cheap cigarettes, a nasty combo that repulses you. You point back at the corner booth where the cable was sitting just a few minutes before, hoping that he’d at least back off at the sight of the six-foot hunk of muscle you call a lover. Unfortunately, He doesn't. 

    “What Husband?” The man says mockingly, and when you look at the booth you find yourself pointing at an empty seat. The sight lights a small flicker of anxiety in you, and your face falls as the man sets a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. It’s not there for long before the weight suddenly disappears. You snap your head around, feeling relief when you see the man’s wrist caught in Cable’s literal iron-clad grip. 

    “This Husband.” Cable grunts.

    All of the blood drains from the stranger’s face in an instant, but it doesn’t take long for the attitude to come back. He tries to yank his arm out of Cable’s grip, but Cable’s arm doesn’t move an inch. To be honest, the sight kinda made you blush a little. Sure, you had seen Cable’s strength many times, but this… well. This was different. The guy starts to yank a little more aggressively, and all Cable has to do is clench his hand for the asshole to yelp and give up. You set a placating hand on his shoulder, and Cable glances back at you. His gaze softens, and he sighs before letting the guy go.

    “What’s your problem, man?” The stranger spits as he holds his bruised wrist. You had already gathered your things and were getting ready to get the hell outta dodge, giving Cable’s shoulder a hard pat as you desperately tried to keep him from getting in a barfight. Cable ignores the guy, walking close behind you as you start to walk away.

    “ -s’ an ugly bitch, anyway.” The stranger mumbles under his breath, but not nearly as quiet as he should’ve. Cable stops in his tracks, wheels around, and slugs the guy with his left arm. There's a sickening crunch and the bar goes silent as the drunken stranger is violently knocked from his seat. Your first instinct is to scold Cable, but the guy had it coming anyway. You look around, and with every eye in the bar squarely on you and Cable, you decide you’ve definitely stayed past your welcome.

Gambit

Gambit is probably the most jealous man in this lineup. Again, He will get fidgety and somewhat aggressive when someone approaches you and begins to flirt, but he trusts you. He doesn't want you to think he doesn't, and as a result, he tends to grit his teeth and bite his tongue to keep himself in check.

There's definitely a very, very thin line in between "I don't want to be overbearing" Remy and "This guy needs to take the fucking hint" Remy.

He's mostly fine with drunk bastards, He thinks they're funny, and as long as they're not bothering you for the most part he'll keep the aggression to a minimum. -But the one thing he absolutely cannot stand is snobby pricks who think they can steal you from him because he's a "swamp rat."

"It's a shame to see such a lovely creature like you standing here all alone." You try not to roll your eyes at the man that approaches you. You and Remy were supposed to have a nice, romantic night out. It was your anniversary, and Remy had told you that he wanted to pull out all the stops for this one. Unfortunately, fate wasn't on either of your sides today. The X-men needed Gambit, and you told him that the plans can wait for another time. Remy, in a very gambit fashion, told you to dress up anyway and he bet he would meet you there. Definitely a rather High-stakes gamble, but you loved him, so you said you'd hold him to it.

Unfortunately for you, it looked like the restaurant was hosting an event at the bar for what looked like a rather stuffy- sorry, High-end law firm. You had been content with waiting for Remy, even if the waitress clearly looked convinced he was standing you up. You had ordered something to drink while you waited, and caught the wrong kind of attention during your trip to the bar.

"I'm not alone, I'm waiting for someone." You say, flashing him an annoyed smile. He smiles back in a smartass kind of way, flashing you his Rolex as he pushes up his glasses. Great. He thinks you're a sugar baby- or maybe a sex worker. Either way, you really wished he was anywhere but here.

"Right. I'll be honest with you, I know you've been waiting here for what- and hour now? Hour and a half? Any guy that leaves you here for that long is not worth your time, sweetheart." You cringe at the nickname, but he clearly can't seem to tell. At this point, you start debating your options. You could run to the bathroom, but there weren't any windows you could crawl out of and he could wait at the door for you to come out. You could try to leave, but you didn't want Remy to think that you left him hanging. It's probably best if you stay and wait for him, but man was this guy getting on your nerves.

"Again, I'm waiting on someone. I'm choosing to wait on him, and frankly, I'm not interested in you." You say bluntly, getting more and more aggravated. The man only smirks at you.

"You're certainly a fiesty one. Don't worry, I like it when they play hard to get." He sends you wink that makes you want to sock him, and to be honest, you start to think about it. The bell at the door of the restaurant dings, and you glance over, face breaking out in a smile at the sight of the man you had been waiting on.

Remy was still in his x-men suit, obviously having come fresh from the fight. He's got some dirt on his face, and his hair is a little messier than normal, but you had never been so happy to see him.

"Well, don't you clean up well." You joke as Remy walks to your table. He chuckles, barely sparing the other man a side-eye before picking up your hand to kiss it.

"Sorry, Chère. Originally, I planned on changin', but I couldn't stand the thought of leaving you here for another moment." Remy's fond gaze turns into a bit of a glare when he finally looks over at the gobsmacked man across the table from you. "I see you've made a new friend?" You roll your eyes at that, shaking your head. Remy gets the message.

There's a gasp from the other patrons of the restaurant, as the sound the contact made was rather loud. There's already a red mark forming on the mans face as you take Remy by the hand and begin to lead him out of the restaurant. Remy is looking at you like he'd fallen in love with you all over again.

"You've been waiting all this time for some Cajun freak?" The man blurts out, finally having found his words.

"Watch it, Mon ami." Remy's shoulders tense as he snarls at the prick. You stand up, giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze before you walk in front of the man. The side of his mouth slightly upturns as you do so, right before you slap the everloving shit out of him.

"I know you really wanted for us to eat here, honey, but to be honest? I like your cooking better anyway."

Nightcrawler

Kurt? Jealous???

Absolutely. He absolutely gets jealous. Kurt is much more of a "cat" kind of jealous than a Guard Dog kind of jealous though. He's not going to do anything crazy like punch anyone, but he's gonna brush up against you, slide his tail around your waist, hold your hand. He wants reassurance from you more than he is angered by whoever is flirting with you.

That's not to say he's not angry. He doesn't like the way some people look at you like a piece of meat instead of the intelligent, beautiful person you are, and he's not afraid to call people out on it.

Kurt knew that the guy you were talking to right now was only stopping to ask you for directions, but he really didn't like how close to you the guy was. Kurt had gone off to get you something to eat from the street food vendor nearby, telling you to just relax and he would be back soon.

When he returned with food in hand, it was obvious to him what was happening, but he still couldn't help but frown. The man is leaning into your space as he shows you the map in his hands. It's fine. There was obviously nothing really going on, the stranger must have been simply touchy. He then watches as the man sets a hand on the back of your waist to point at a building up ahead, and Kurt's mind quickly changes.

Obviously, you had stepped out of the stranger's reach quickly, uncomfortable with the action, but Kurt still slinked up to your side like a cat, pulling you close with his tail as he hands you your food, resting his newly freed hand behind your back.

"There you are, Meine Liebe. I hope you didn't wait for too long." Kurt says sweetly, giving you a grin. You smile back at him, thanking him for the food. You felt relieved to see him. Sure, the stranger that had been speaking to you seemed to be a nice man, but there was a certain amount of comfort and security Kurt provided when he was near you. Kurt makes a show of leaning in and kissing you on the cheek that makes you giggle. The stranger clears his throat after a quick moment.

"-Sorry if I interrupted your date. I appreciate the directions!" He says quickly, face flushed red from embarresment.

"You're perfectly fine! I hope you're able to find what you're looking for alright." You respond sweetly, waving as the man walks off. Kurt is pouting again when you look at him, tail still wrapped comfortably around you. You can't help but giggle.

"You're so jealous." You laugh. Kurt gives you an innocent look as he brushes off the accusation.

"Whaaat? No. Ich habe dich vermisst. That is all!"

Quicksilver

I'm not even gonna lie the fic half of this is just part of that enemies to lovers hcs that I wrote

anyway!!

Pietro is a very pouty, bratty kind of Jealous.

Like sure he trusts you and all but you actually looked at someone else while they were speaking to you? >:[ Don't look at them. Look at him. Smile at him not them. You're laughing at something they said? Well, he's funnier than them!!

He's just, so pouty over the smallest, pettiest things. He just needs a smooch on the forehead and some reassurance and also possibly cuddles, and he'll be fine. God he's such a brat ILHSM

However, If someone is actually flirting with you or going too far and making you uncomfortable, he will in fact throw hands. Or do his speedster thing and find a way to embarrass them, like pantsing them or planting something embarrassing on them. One time he snatched a guy's cell and called his wife before planting it in the man's pocket so she could hear all the flirting he was doing. Now that was fun.

"So I heard you had dinner with the wolfie guy tonight." The sound of Pietro's voice makes you yelp in surprise. You whirl around to see him leaning against the wall of your room, arms crossed. You scoff, and pick a pillow off of your bed to chuck it at him. He catches it easily.

"His name is Logan, and No. Not really. All we did was happen to sit next to each other at dinner." You turn back around to sit at your vanity, but Pietro is already there, sitting on the stool with the pink pillow tucked into his arms.

"So you did have dinner with him?" He pouts. You roll your eyes at him, holding back a laugh as you shove him off the seat. He looses his balance for less than a second before there's a gust and he's sitting cross-legged on your bed, having tossed the pillow to the side.

"What does it matter to you, anyway? You're not even supposed to be here, Pietro." You tease as you sit down, unable to keep yourself from smiling. You comb through your hair as you ready yourself for bed, still grinning like an idiot as you hear Pietro huff and haw.

"Why shouldn't it matter?" He asks, watching as you complete your routine. "I- I have a reason to care." He stutters out cheeks flushing a light pink that reaches his ears. You cover your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.

"Don't laugh!" Pietro objects, and it sends you into a fit of laughter as you stand back up and flop onto your back on the bed next to him.

"He's not my type anyway." You say. It only takes a second before Pietro is leaning over you, caging you between his arms. There's the ghost of a grin beginning to form on his face, simply at the sight of your own cheesy expression.

"What is your type, then?" He asks, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

"Let's just say I prefer a man who can keep up with me." You say with a wink that may or may not have been the most terribly, corny action you could have done. Pietro doesn't seem to care as his face is split with an equally as corny grin.

Both of you are caught off guard by someone calling your same from the hallway, and then a knock shortly after. You take Pietro's moment of distraction and quickly lean up, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Pietro looks absolutely shocked.

"You better get going." You whisper. He smiles at you, almost in disbelief, and then he's gone, the window left open and the breeze catching on curtains, blowing gently.

[lookingformoondrop]

ok but Can you image the total shit show it’d be if reader somehow rizzed up BOTH Andrew and Ashley?? 😨 literally preying. Like imagine reader is not necessarily popular, but they definetly are one of the most attractive people in the class if not the most

Andrew Graves x Reader x Ashley Graves

TW: Some nasty cat fights between the Graves siblings, everyone has a potty mouth, mentions of unaliving eachother, not proofread, reader just wanted a cookie.

♥︎Notes: This was actually so fun to write. I always love writing arguments between my two favorite assholes and watching it burn from there. Enjoy this messy headcannon and sorry it took so long<3.♥︎

Someone call the police, ain't no one coming out of this alive.

First, we gotta start with how you rizzed up the siblings. Starting with Andrew,

I can already see that to get through Andrew's heart, you gotta be funny.

Yes I know that this brooding son of a bitch is dressed in only dark colors, but he values some humor and I feel like the way through his heart is that.

You were in class chatting with a classmate near Andrew's desk when the classmate brought up your history teacher. Uptight, strict, and a prick, you said, "If he berates me anymore for my red pen, his head will go so far up his ass he'll find his own bullshit."

Unexpectedly, both of you heard a snort. Searching for the source, you saw Andrew covering his mouth with his hand, horrified by the sound he had just made.

You smiled at him and brushed off the snort to the classmate, "I think we're hearing things."

That truly made his heart flutter.

He had started sitting closer to you after that. Whenever he got ready in the mornings for school, an extra step in his routine was to hope that you were coming too.

"Hey Andrew," you walked by Andrew's desk.

"Y -Y/N! Hi..." Andrew mentally cussed himself our for the stutter.

It was dumb...really dumb.

But it made Andrew smile and feel giddy when he walked home.

I feel like Andrew would be very tame when it came to his feelings for the reader.

He'd blush when you're around and check in with you to make sure you're okay. He'd be too embarrassed to actually ask you out, but he would definitely try to find excuses to hang around you.

Now, the only natural explanation for Ashley's involvement with you would be that she saw her brother with a dumbass grin one day and HAD to investigate.

So, how did you rizz up Ashley?

Well, it's simple, really,

She went to your house to get a clear look at you and saw you dancing through the window,

You were fun and disgustingly too kind.

("Idiot")

But somehow, that fun energy intrigued Ashley. You would smile at her randomly when she corssed the street. You had no idea who she was, and yet that smile irked Ashley (in a somehow pleasant way).

"Hey guys!" She cheerfully entered the classroom doorway, a spring in her step.

Andrew turned to look at the voice and immediately felt a muscle in his forehead twitch. "Great," he thought, "another one of Ashley's ploys so that she can harass any woman out of my life."

You, of course, were baffled at seeing this girl suddenly love up on you, but judging by Andrew's murderous smile towards her, you figured they were related somehow.

But instead of Ashley being an ass towards the reader, she began to cling to their arm.

This began a looooong sequence of events where it would go one of the following ways,

You'd go to a spot around town, invite one of the Graves siblings, and no matter how secluded, isolated, unknown, or illegal said spot was, the other Graves sibling would find and join you.

This definitely opens the possibility of more intense sibling fights.

I say intense, but it's more like,

"SAY HER NAME ONE MORE TIME ASHLEY AND I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"DO IT ANDY, DO IT, I DARE YOU. WHAT WOULD MY Y/N THINK ABOUT A MURDERER, YOU FUCKFACE!"

The fights would get so loud that the neighbors would call the police

By the time the police came to knock at the door, Ashley was pulling Andrew's hair and trying to put him in the washing machine, while Andrew was clawing at Ashley's face and trying to smack her head against said machine.

When Andrew (and for some reason) Ashley came to school, you were startled by how banged up both of them became. Still, when you asked about it, all they did was brush you off (and stomp on each other's toes when you weren't looking).

While they did loath each other for trying to steal Y/N from one another, they never doubted the protection they felt they owed to Y/N.

Some random classmate decided to hit on you and make you verryyyy uncomfy. When you recounted the tale to Andrew, he refused to leave you alone for weeks, constantly fantasizing about bashing the guys face in.

ASHLEY ON THE OTHER HAND would absolutely demolish any shithead who tried hitting on you. "They needed to be punished!" Is the last thing she said, and the last time you ever saw that classmate.

Was it risky? Yes. Did Andrew scold her for it? Yes. Did either one of them regret it? Hell no.

Overall, the entire relationship is a complete shit show. And even if you begged them to play nice, they'd still fight over you.

"Ashley, can you help me? I can't reach that cookie jar."

Ashley sprung up from her seat. "Sure thing, N/M~" But just as Ashley was going to reach for the jar, Andrew pushed her into a pile of trash bags in the kitchen and proceeded to grab the jar for you.

"Here you go, Y/N," Andrew smiled at you while you panicked on who to check in with first.

Suddenly, from the pile of trashbags came, "Andrew, you ass!"

Fight or flight kicked in, and you immediately bolted out of their kitchen. Having remembered plenty of their fights, you decided that for today, you were perfect content with just going home. That was enough Graves for today...

"ASS-KISSER!"

"BROWN-NOSER!"

Yeah, that was plenty of Graves for today.

Thank you for the ask!<3

[ladykibutsuji]

Human! Muzan Kibutsuji Headcanons

SFW | NSFW

• Premise: You are the beloved wife of Muzan Kibutsuji, although it was a arranged marriage your love for Muzan Kibutsuji was real. so what is it exactly like being his wife?

{SFW}

- Muzan always hated the fact that he have a sickness that is almost impossible to cure so he is always mad about it leading to him having such a nasty personality.

- He mostly takes his anger out on his own Servants and his doctor to whom he refer to as 'Fraudulent Doctor'

- In the beginning, Muzan despised you and didn't want to be near you.

- "Why the fuck do I even need a wife? She's as useless as the servants!"

- You dislike his nasty personality but you also understood that he's only mad about his illness that he takes his anger out on others.

- Despite Muzan's cruel words and actions, you have continued to look after him no matter how hard he tries to push you away.

- But as time goes on, Muzan started to appreciate the love and care that he is receiving from you

- And eventually he developed feelings for you

- He'd still be tough on you, but not so tough.

- Sometimes when he notices how tired you are, he wouldn't say cruel words towards you like what he usually does but instead he would be quiet

- In the end, you would notice that he's too quiet so you started asking him questions if he's okay

- He would get mad at you for asking such a question

- "Do I look okay? I have a fucking illness you dumb woman! just shut the fuck up and rest for the day"

- His sentence got you confused, You don't even know whether he's being cruel or nice

- When it comes to drinking medicine, he would make a huge fuss over it saying that it wouldn't even work but when it's you he would just drink it quietly he would still roll his eyes at you though or let out a 'tch' sound

- He only wants YOU to take care of him and refuses to let anyone else to take the spot

- the only time he lets anyone else do it is when you are sick

- since his body is weak he couldn't really take you out on fancy dates

- but sometimes when he feels like having a date with you he would make his servants cook and prepare a romantic table just for the two of you at home

- Muzan's favorite thing to do is to cuddle with you, he won't admit it but he really enjoys your company and touch

- although he wouldn't really ask directly, he would stare deeply into your eyes in silent with a >:| face

- "Do you need anything?"

- "You already know what I want"

- Aside Muzan's nasty personality, he also have a soft personality that only YOU have access to

- When muzan can't sleep at late night, you and him would have a conversation about life and would often be joking around with each other

- "Would you find someone else if I died?"

- "Don't say stuffs like that, You will survive you just have to believe in yourself"

- "Don't be so dramatic Y/N. it's just a what if, I want to hear your honest answer."

- "No, I don't want to... I'd rather stay at your grave for hours!"

- "Just hours?"

- "No, I'll live in your grave"

- "Good"

- That conversation right there is one of the rare moments you have with him since 99% of the time he's an asshole to you and his servants mostly his doctor

- "Y/N, When my illness is gone. I promise to give you the best life you deserve."

{NSFW}

- DICK: 4 soft, 6'5 erected (Length), 6 in girth, curved upward, Veiny, hairy and tip color is ff9999

- He whimpers

- He's more submissive than dominant due to his body being weak

- You are the one who initiates

- His favorite part of sex is his dick getting sucked on by you

- He likes shoving his cock all the way down your throat

- And he thinks that you are really pretty with his cock on your mouth

- "f-fuck y/n. . . You're sucking it so good~"

- Since he has low stamina you are usually the one on top and the sex position you often do is Cowgirl and Reverse cowgirl

- While doing cowgirl his hands would be on your boobs playing with your nipples or sometimes they are just placed at your thighs giving them a squeeze

- If it's reverse cowgirl his hands would be on your hips and just like cow girl they would also be on your thighs

- You would bounce on his cock while he whimpers and begs you for more

- "ah~....ha~ ...pl-please more"

- Seeing muzan beg for more was amusing so you would tease him about it

- "Please what? Use your words my love~"

- He would get annoyed and grunt but greed took over him wanting more and more, he couldn't get enough of you so he would give in to your tease

- "Please Y/N...Please give me more of you"

- "Good boy~"

- And this is where you would bounce faster

- Muzan doesn't really use nicknames in sex because he's not really that sort of a romantic guy so he mostly just calls you by your own name

- And Muzan doesn't want any nicknames from you

- However you threatened that you would stop moving when he doesn't accept the nickname "Good boy" so he had no other choice but to accept the nickname you gave him

- When cumming he prefers to shoot it inside of you, into your mouth or all over your face.

- "Fuck... I'm close"

- If it's inside of you: he would tightly grip on your hips or thighs

- If it's into your mouth: He would ask you to stop bouncing and to suck his dick, after doing so he would have a tight grip on your hair forcing your mouth all the way down while his seed overfilled your mouth

- If it's on your face: He also would ask you to stop bouncing so he could pull out and come in your face, after cumming in your face he would cupped your cheeks admiring the mess he made

- He could only go for 1-2 rounds so if you are left unsatisfied and still wanting more he would just offer you to ride his face

- Poor muzan's dick was so exhausted after just 1 round

- "Seriously woman? Are you fucking trying to drain me?"

- "Please?"

- Muzan's greatest weakness was YOU, he couldn't refuse your request with that cute face of yours

- Too bad his dick was already exhausted so he offers another way to please you

- "Fuck you woman, Just ride my face and after this go kill yourself"

- Aftercare is important in sex but muzan is too weak to move on his own so you have to be the one taking care of him

- After having a warm bath together and putting on some comfy clothes You would bring in some foods for you and Muzan to eat together.

- After eating, Muzan will offer to let you cuddle with him to which you always Accepts and never once have refused.

- "I hate you but I also love you, but I still hate you more"

- "I love you most"

[sincerelyneo]

no judgement | l.mk

“i can be your lover or your shoulder to cry on, you can be whoever you like”

💿now playing: no judgement by niall horan

❯ summary: Mark’s shocked to see you at his front door step crying, but he isn’t surprised. You do this all the time - get a new boyfriend and forget about your childhood best friend. And the minute that asshole dumps you, you always want him to pick up the pieces. And he will. He always does.

❯ pairings: mark x fem!reader (brief mention of yuta)

❯ genre: friends to strangers to lovers? smut, angst

❯ words: 4.9k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, protected sex, lowkey sub!mark, hookup, rebound sex, glasses kink, big dick mark bc yes, oral sex (m receiving), nipple play, slight begging, yuta is an asshole for the plot, reader is also kinda mean, mentions of cheating (not between mark + y/n), slight unrequited love, use of ‘pretty girl’, reader uses she/her pronouns.

Mark thinks his mind is playing tricks on him. I mean - it would make sense - the last time he’d checked the clock on his desk it was 12:17 am. So, there’s no way the light knocking on his front door is really happening…right? 

He tries to focus on the papers in front of him - a work assignment that was due last week that he’d already managed to get an extension on. He knows his boss will have his balls if he doesn’t have it completed and on his desk by 8:00 am sharp tomorrow (today). 

However, Mark’s fears of premature insanity are put to a quick end this time when the knocking is paired with an unnecessarily loud yelling through his letter box. 

“Mark Lee if you don’t open this door right now, I swear I’ll kick your ass the next time I see you.” 

Now that - the sound of your voice - wasn’t in his imagination. 

You bang harder, clear that you're using a fully clenched fist to make as much noise as possible.  “I’m serious dude, I’ve kicked your ass before, and I’ll do it again. Now open. The. Door.” 

Mark knows he should just ignore you, pretend that he’s sleeping and focus on his work; but, he hasn’t seen you in months, and you are supposed to be his best friend after all. He can’t just leave you out on the street at this hour — he won’t — what sort of friend would he be?

He rises from his desk, removes his glasses, and places them gently on the wooden surface before pinching the bridge of his nose.

You knock (pound) again. 

“‘Alright alright, jeez, I’m coming,” he says, followed by a small curse as he ushers through his hallway to the front door. 

As he swings the door open, he’s almost hit with a nasty sucker punch to the cheek as you simultaneously raise your fist to knock again.

“Woah there, calm down, you’re gonna get me a noise complaint,” he flinches. 

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” you point to the house next door, “That woman has been glaring at me from her window since I got here.” 

Mark peers out of his house, the cold night air nipping at the tips of his ears, and sees his neighbour looking down shaking her head disapprovingly at him. He raises his hand in a feeble apology, with a tight-lipped smile to ease the edge, but it doesn’t, he knows it doesn’t and he knows he’s going to have to do a lot of ass kissing in the morning. 

“Well, Mrs Kim and her husband have just had a baby.” 

He watches you shrug then grimace, “How was I supposed to know that? They didn’t have one the last time I was here.” 

It’s now when Mark takes in the person standing in front of him, a mere silhouette of his childhood best friend. You’re barefoot, which already raises questions in his mind, and a bottle of wine is in your hand. Your hair is dishevelled and mascara smudged under the bottom of your eye – which makes sense since he can see the faded redness from where he knows you’ve been crying. 

 “So, you gonna let me in or what? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Well obviously, Mark thinks, you’re wearing nothing but a short black dress, covered by a thin sheer blazer leaving your legs completely bare in the middle of winter. Your teeth chatter and he has to suppress the smile threatening to dance on his lips because it reminds him of when the two of you used to mess around in the snow during winter break back in high school.

But he pushes those memories to the side, just like his front door, as he makes enough room for you to slip into his house. As you step inside, you waste no time making yourself comfortable - old habits die hard you guess - remembering how things used to be.

You remove the blazer you're wearing and walk over to Mark's desk, draping it over the back of his chair. Your eyes fall on the sheets of paper scattered across the surface, partially covered by his glasses. You recall that he had stopped wearing them during junior year, opting for contacts instead - a decision you found disappointing. You had always liked his glasses; they made him look kind of... cute.

“I’m not interrupting you, am I?”

Yes. 

“Nah, not really,” Mark shrugs following in from behind you. 

“Really?” You ask picking up a sheet of paper as you raise an eyebrow, “Marketing campaign for neo gummies, on my desk Monday 8:00 am.”

There’s a smile on your face as you read it because it’s nice to know that the Mark standing in front of you is the same as the one you grew up with. He was always the last person to hand in his college assignments, and school science projects; but don’t get it wrong, he’d always ace them. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve basically finished it.”

Mark’s lying, and you can easily tell by the way his arm reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. It's a mannerism you've become aware of, noticing how he used to do it when you asked him for his opinions on some of your uglier fashion choices throughout high school. 

“You sure?” You add, “I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with your boss or anything. Especially now that you live in this fancy-ass townhouse, your mortgage payments must be crazy.”

Mark shakes his head with a smile, reaching for his glasses and putting them back on. “They’re not that crazy…”

You give him a knowing look, his living room alone is practically the size of most apartments in the city. But you didn’t expect anything less from him, he’d always worked hard for everything he had. He graduated with flying colours, found a high-paying job after college, bought a nice house; and you’re sure that one day he’d secure himself a nice girl to live in it with him. 

What you’re trying to say is Mark Lee had something to show for himself, which is more than you can say after you took a more leisurely approach to college. Mark had always worked a little too hard for your liking, or maybe you just worked a little too easy for his. Either way, he’s the one with his life put together and you’re just…standing barefoot in his living room, looking a mess, with a bottle of alcohol in your hand.  

“Well then, since I’m not imposing, how ‘bout a drink?” You suggest, waving the bottle of wine in the air in an attempt to win him over and distract yourself from your own reality. As shitty as it sounds, you come to Mark to escape the chaos of your own life, so dwelling on comparisons isn't something you want to keep doing.

For Mark though, he knows he shouldn't indulge in a drink – after all, the work assignment on his desk is practically begging to be completed. But he's always struggled to say no to you, and he's well aware that you know that too. It's why you're so comfortable knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning when most of the city is asleep; you know he'll always open up for you.

And that’s exactly why he’s heading into his kitchen and rooting through his cabinets until he finds two wine glasses. 

When he comes back into the living room, he finds you standing by the fireplace. It's not unusual, considering you were freezing just moments ago on his doorstep from your attire. However, what catches him off guard is that you're not warming yourself by the fire; instead, you're holding a picture – Mark's favourite one – taken by his parents on the day you got your wisdom teeth removed.

"No way you kept this," you groan, though there's a hint of laughter in your voice.

"Of course I did. You were completely out of it on anaesthesia, going on about marrying Lee Taemin," Mark replies.

You squeeze your eyes shut, remembering the way you sent the hot senior you had a crush on in your freshman year a DM in your high state. “Oh gosh, don’t remind me.”

But truthfully, that's not the sole reason Mark kept that picture, or why he still chooses to display it despite having hundreds of clearer, better ones of the two of you together. He treasures that particular photo because it was the day you told him you loved him – although you never brought it up again. Mark pins it down to you not remembering from the anaesthetic, but that photo, it’s the last slither of hope he has left. 

“Well, I must say, Mark Lee, you have had quite the glow-up since your high school days,” you laugh putting the picture back on the fireplace. 

Mark can't believe his cheeks are warming up as if he were that same teenager – pathetic, he thinks. And he wants to say the same about you, but he hardly recognizes you. You're a completely different person from the girl in the picture, and while he loves you, truly, it doesn't change the fact that you're a mess sitting before him.

To his defence, it's impossible not to notice it; he saw it the moment he opened the door and saw your smudged makeup and raw eyes – you’re defeated. And even though he knows precisely why, he still asks.

 "What are you doing here, Y/N?"

You swallow, “Can’t I just come and see my best friend?”

“No, you can’t.”

His words carry a double-edged sword, both an accusation directed at you and an expression of the hurt he's experienced from your repeated instances of ghosting him over the last few months. 

You begin pouring yourself a generous glass of the wine you brought along. If you were going to have this conversation with him, you weren't about to do it sober.

“Yuta broke up with me.”

And there it is. You always do this –  get a new boyfriend and forget about your childhood best friend. And the minute the asshole in question dumps you, you always want him to pick up the pieces. 

And Mark hadn't forgotten the name Yuta; in fact, it had been seared into his mind ever since you posted a picture with him on your Instagram account, looking all lovey-dovey. And then Mark had gone into full stalker mode – because of course he did – he always did. But the thing with Yuta was that he was one step ahead. One particularly awful day at work, when Mark wanted to check your account, he found himself blocked.

Honestly, Mark doesn’t blame Yuta, he’d be lying if he said all his thoughts about you were completely innocent, but you’d never blocked him over a guy before. He's accustomed to the isolation, the ghosting, and the personality changes that come with you getting a new boyfriend; but being digitally blocked by you was a new low. It's safe to say Mark had already formed his opinion about your new ex-boyfriend: he was definitely an asshole.

"Why did he break up with you?" he asks, not out of genuine concern, but rather out of selfish relief. Still, he knows it's the right thing to do.

“He found someone else, or I found him fucking someone else,” you spit bitterly, “and do you know what? That fucker didn’t even give me a chance to grab my shoes before he kicked me out.”

You take a long gulp from your glass, the liquid burning slightly as it goes down your throat, and then you flop back on the sofa. Your movements are heavy, weighed down by more than just the alcohol in your system. As you sink into the cushions, a wave of emotion crashes over you, threatening to engulf you completely. It's a moment of vulnerability that you've been holding back, and tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. You try to fight them, push down the rising tide of emotions, but it's futile. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he reassures, quickly taking a seat beside you on the sofa and resting a gentle hand on your thigh, where he begins to rub small, soothing circles into your skin, just like he used to do. "You can stay here tonight."

You groan into your hands, you can’t believe you're acting like this – pathetic – and it has you immediately defensive. “Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, so quiet Mark almost misses it.

“Like what?”

“All judgy.”

“When have I ever judged you, Y/N?” he questions, his tone gentle, “I’m always your shoulder to cry on, we’re past the judgement stage,”

"I don't cry that much," you protest weakly.

“Well…” he starts, that teasing look in his eye you love.

In response, you push his chest playfully, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Because you’ve missed this – missed him.

And that’s the part that always stings the most: how effortlessly you two slip back into each other's company. Despite not speaking for a couple of months, it's like you didn’t lose any time. And perhaps that's why Mark finds it so easy to keep forgiving you, and why you find it so natural to slide in and out of his life and then expect him to mend your broken heart.

Mark grabs the hand you used to push his chest and looks at you seriously but gently, “Seriously, Y/N, you can just be yourself with me, just like it’s always been.”

His words resonate with you, stirring something deep within the pit of your stomach. You meet his gaze with glossy eyes, and in that moment, you feel an overwhelming surge of emotion. Without hesitation, you lean in and press your lips to his. 

It's a tender kiss, soft and sweet just how you expected Mark’s lips to be. And he melts into it just as much as you do, if not more so. It’s like he craves it, like he’s hungry for it. And he is because you – his first-ever crush, the girl he’s been in love with since he could remember – is pressing her lips to his. The teenager in him is jumping up and down right now.

Just as you're about to deepen the kiss, your face bumps into his glasses, causing both of you to pause as they sit askew on his face. Mark blushes and begins to fumble with them, but just as he's about to take them off, your hand wraps around his and stops him.

“Mmmm. Keep ‘em on,” you bite your lip as you reposition them on the bridge of his nose. “I like them.”

“I didn't realize you had a glasses kink,” he teases.

“Neither did I...just like them on you.”

That triggers something inside of him because his tongue lightly sweeps over your bottom lip where he nips it with his teeth. One of his hands reaches up to cup the nape of your neck; the other finds its way to the hem of your dress, intrusive fingers brushing over your bare skin, making you gasp.

He stills.

Did he just fuck this up? Was he reading it wrong?

There’s a fraction of a beat where you just breathe against him, and Mark feels a twinge of self-consciousness. And just when he’s about to apologise, you dive into him and all reservations are thrown out the window as you give him the green light. 

His hand wraps around your waist and he pulls you over his lap to straddle him. It gives him all the access he needs to grab your thighs and lift you up as he stands. He keeps your lips connected as he wraps your legs around his waist, pressing into you just enough to feel the swelling in his crotch. 

If you thought he was hungry for it before, now he’s starving. 

Your arms wrap around his neck, your breasts crushing against his chest. Your hips start to move against him without any control, almost like it’s instinctual. You suck on his tongue and he groans. And God if it isn’t the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N,” he says into your mouth, “Are we really doing this?”

You smile against his lips, “We’re doing this.”

You both take that as a confirmation to go harder, kissing like you’ve been starved of each other for years, and Mark supposes you have. His body moulds to yours and you feel his hand wander to your ass making your dress lift as he carries you out of the living room. 

When you see him heading for the staircase you know exactly where his head is at, and when he opens his bedroom door with you still in his arms, you feel wetness pool right between your legs. 

He drops you on the bed so gently and carefully not to hurt you – because even though he’s so goddamn horny right now – he’s still Mark. When your back hits the whites of his sheets it gives you a moment to look at him, his chest is heaving, lips swollen and cheeks flush. His hair is tousled and it makes your blood run cold. 

He looks like pure sex. Hot sex. Good, filthy, all-night-long sex. And you want him, more than you’ve ever wanted any man before in your life.

Mark kneels on the bed in the space between your legs, coming close enough to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, and you wonder if he sees you the same way you see him right now. He brushes your cheek gently with his thumb and you lean into his caress and plant a small kiss against his palm. 

His lips meet yours again as his hands slip between you two. They glide up your leg, to your stomach to under your dress, where he finds you not wearing a bra as your nipples pebble under his rough hands. 

Instinctively, your arms stretch over your head, reluctantly breaking the kiss so he can tug the material off and over you, lips crashing back together as you roll your hips into his with desperation and need. 

Mark groans when he pulls away to look at your naked chest in front of him, it’s a picture he thinks. One that needs to be hung up in an art gallery or some shit – actually now that he thinks about it – he hates the idea of you being on display like that for someone else.

His fingers wind themselves in your hair, a delightful shiver skittering along your body as you soften into his touch. You can’t help but grin suggestively as you look him in the eyes, top teeth holding down on your lower lip as your hands creep low enough to hook into the band of his pyjama bottoms. 

Mark practically whimpers as your hand teases at the elastic, “Please.”

The plea has you smiling wider, knowing exactly what he wants. You remove his bottoms without a second thought, the same time he strips from his t-shirt. His cock springs free, thick and long and straining so eagerly for you. 

You get a thrill knowing you’re the one who’s made him this hard and that makes you want to please him badly. So you do, taking control and flipping him over to be underneath you. He gasps at the motion and then he almost cums untouched at the sight of you kneeling between his legs, lowering yourself down just enough to kiss the tip of his cock.

The teasing touch sends a chill right through him. He leans back on his arms just to see you, eyebrows strained as he concentrates, glasses slightly fogged – he wants to remember exactly what you look like like this. You’re intoxicating, strong enough for him to get drunk on.

“So pretty,” he murmurs under a soft breath and you blush.

You lick your lips, focusing on his cock, flattening your tongue from the base all the way up to his head, where the slit is leaking with pre-cum. You hear him suck in a breath and it makes you smile. 

You like knowing he’s needy, teasing him to ignite small reactions, but continuing to do so would only be hell for you; because right now you want nothing more than to suck on his cock like it’s the last thing you’ll ever taste. 

You wrap your hand around his shaft and don’t waste another second before your mouth is sinking to suck on him. You manage all you can – there’s a lot of him – and use your fingers to move up the length you don’t swallow, stroking him painstakingly slow.   

As you kiss and lick at him, Mark is going mad because it’s your mouth. Your mouth is wet and hot and currently wrapped around him good enough that his thighs have started trembling. 

It’s not long before his hands find your hair and he helps you to slide more of his cock inside, knowing exactly when to stop instead of making you take too much. But he’s big and thick and your mouth barely covers him – which he hates – it feels like a reminder that he’s not made for you. 

The thought has him letting out a growl, which catches you by surprise from the whimpering mess he was seconds ago. The grip he has on your hair tightens. 

“Fuck, Y/N, suck me harder…” The dirty words sound dominant at first, but they trail off as you continue sucking on him, a lot like you’re melting him, and you fucking love that idea. 

The thought of having him be so desperate for you is making you wetter and needier. And it’s that need that has you reaching up to graze his nipples with your fingers. Mark finds the chill of your cold digits distinctive, responding with a mewl that rings between the walls of his room. 

You can't believe such a small touch makes him so…responsive. 

Every tug on his sensitive peak is enough to pull a sound from his pink lips, enough to make him writhe his hips and edge his cock further into your mouth. 

You twist and pinch and watch as Mark’s face twists in the feeling, mouth dropping open to release a stuttered breath. It’s so sensual - so carnal. 

You pull off his cock with a sickening pop, looking up at him with spit-covered lips. “Who would have guessed your nipples would be so sensitive?” 

Your hand stays at a steady pace, stroking him slowly as you speak. Mark shivers from the loss of your warm mouth around him, but there’s still a part of him that’s glad you stopped. But not because he doesn’t want this — he does, so badly — but because he was starting to feel his cock’s overwhelming urge to twitch with his orgasm. And there was no fucking way he was going to cum before he’d even buried himself inside you. 

In a cooling breath, he replies, “Only sensitive for you.” 

Warmth flushes on your face, and the arousal soaking between your legs begs to soak his cock. He’s so cute when he is all red-faced and whiny, eyes closed tightly as his brows knit together. And you suppose his own state of neediness triggers yours. 

“Want you inside of me now, Mark,” you pant, “Need it.” 

“Fuck~” his voice drips like honey as he moans, hands moving to grab at your waist to flip you under him.

You push yourself further up the bed and he crawls after you. It’s only now he realises the lace barrier still on your skin standing between you and his cock. Your panties are dark blue and they look so pretty against your skin.

He leans down, kissing the inside of your knee, letting his fingers slip up your ankle to cradle your smooth calf.

“Sometime tonight,” you tease.

But Mark likes to go slow, he likes to savour in your sight, study your body to remember every detail for his next late-night fantasy. He wants to bask in you being so bare and so ready for him — not your ex-boyfriend — him. 

He skims his hands further up your bare legs until he slides your underwear down and disregards them somewhere on the floor. Then, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, pressing your chests together skin to skin. He likes it like that — being so close and so intimate with you that it's almost raw. 

He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom. You don’t take your eyes off him once as he rips it open with his teeth and rolls it down the entirety of his length. Heat pools in your stomach because this is happening — and that makes your pussy throb. 

He keeps his eyes on yours as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside of you, breathless. You can’t help but sink your head back into the mattress, eyes closing.

“Eyes open.”

You lazily blink them open.

“Eyes always on me pretty girl,” he demands, thrusting into you. 

You’ve never felt anything like him. You feel so full. He’s everywhere. Even your lungs and head are filled with him.

“Taking me so well pretty,” he groans.

His praise has you gushing, whining with the feeling of him stuffing you. It’s not awkward like the first time having sex with someone can be. It feels like you’ve always been doing this.

“You’re okay?” he asks.

He sounds calm, but you can see the restraint that he’s barely holding on to by the tightening in his jaw, and the tension in his brow.

“More than okay. Just fuck me, Mark. Please.”

He brushes his lips over yours and whispers, “Oh I plan to.”

You smile, but it’s quickly gone as he starts to move, fucking you slowly, then quicker and quicker, and harder and faster. The headboard is banging against the wall, surely denting it, and you know if the neighbours weren’t already pissed about your knocking they’d definitely be pissed now. 

And selfishly, you can’t find it in you to give a shit because he’s like a machine, working thrusts into you at all the right angles to elicit sweet moans from your lips. 

You’re panting and groaning like a bitch in heat. Mind fuzzy with euphoria as your flesh slaps loudly together. If college you knew that Mark Lee, your best friend, was about to give you an orgasm she would have laughed in your face. 

But, God, the man can fuck. 

He urges you onto his cock harder, clit rubbing against his pelvic bone, each time your hips connected in powerful thrusts. 

“Oh God, Mark,” you try your best to keep your eyes open, but the pleasure is threatening to consume you. 

“That’s it. Cum on my cock pretty girl. I won’t come until you do.”

The idea makes you want to hold off forever, let him fuck you for hours just to bask in the feeling of your closeness. However, your body disagrees with that sentiment, and suddenly you’re cumming hard. 

“Shit,” he hisses, feeling your walls flutter around his length. 

Mark doesn’t slow down though, he fucks you through your orgasm like a madman, hammering deep to the hilt to chase his high. 

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N…shit…fuck…” He growls a sound so erotic in your ear, you feel like you might cum again.

He sags onto you, his body heavy but not crushing, his skin warm against yours. You touch your fingers to his cheek. 

“I don’t think I can move,” he says, breathless.

“So, don’t.”

The tips of Mark’s ears turn red at the suggestion, but eventually, he figures he needs to move — much to his dismay. He eases out of you, catching hold of the condom and pulling it off his cock. He rolls off of you and out of bed to put it in the trash before he’s back next to you, arms engulfing you in a hug. 

You look up at him and he presses a kiss on your lips before pulling back. “Are you staying?” 

“Do you want me to?”

“I asked first.” He says.

“I’ll stay if you want me to stay.”

Liar.

Mark swallows, “Okay well, I’ll get us breakfast in the morning then, yeah?”

He says it but he knows come the morning you’ll have slipped out in the middle of the night because this isn’t the first time he’s had sex with you. 

Mark has always been your rebound. Yes, he’s your best friend, but he’s also your favourite hookup call when your boyfriend’s being an asshole.

And he knew that when he first heard you knocking on his front door. He knows you'll never change – and strangely, he's content with that, he’s accepted it. Because even though he knows you'll move on again, he doesn't mind keeping your secrets safe until the next time when you want a man to heal your heart.

Because Mark will settle for being a pity fuck if it means he gets to be a constant in your life.

[lottiesgrl]

𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗵𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀

cw: canon-typical violence, mentions of stalking, semi-toxic behavior, smut, fingering (r!receiving), face riding (rhiannon receiving), strap-on use (rhiannon receiving), inspired by an ask that i no longer have in my inbox

🗡you'd be lying if you said you hadn't noticed the way rhiannon looked at you when you talked to your mutual coworkers. you were always able to notice it - the nasty looks she shot your way when you spoke with claudia and linus, even if it's over something as mundane as reporting on a missing bike

🗡you're pretty sure she hates you, and you're not sure why. i mean, what could you have done to deserve the way her eyes bore into the back of your head every time you're in a conversation?

🗡so, you vow to try and talk to her, in order to dissuade this "grudge" she has against you. but when you do, it doesn't go at all how you're expecting. the corners of her lips pull into a shy smile every time you approach her desk, her eyes averted and fingers pulling at the hem of her skirt.

🗡around the same time, you start to notice a few things off around the workplace. whenever jeff, that asshole who keeps criticizing your article proposals, says something particularly harsh, he always coincidentally gets caught up on the toilet. you're not sure if it has something to do with the fact that rhiannon is the one handing him his morning coffee each morning with a sickly-sweet smile that you're sure is hiding years of disdain.

🗡and it's not just at your job, either - the sleazy guy on the trolley that always tries to cop a feel each time you pass him hasn't been on since you complained about him to rhiannon, pointedly avoiding eye contact when you notice him on the street as he rushes to take the tube instead. and the woman in your neighborhood who always complains your lawn decorations has been complimenting them more than usual, with a strange expression that you can't quite discern.

🗡if you though rhiannon's jealousy couldn't get any worse than it already can be, you'd be deathly wrong. when the two of you get together, it's like someone flipped a switch, and her jealousy increases tenfold.

🗡it starts out with subtle gestures and touches, innocuous things that you might not have been able to notice if you hadn't already been aware of her possessive tendencies. a hand wrapped around your waist while you're socializing, intertwining your fingers as you walk to work together, and an arm flung over your shoulders when you're at the pub. she always needs to be touching you in some way, and you don't mind one bit.

🗡but as time goes on, she starts to be less subtle. well, at least she thinks she's being subtle. to you, the way she stares daggers into anyone who even remotely flirted with you was anything but inconspicuous.

🗡it's no surprise that she's incredibly insecure, and this is especially true when you're in a relationship with her. to her, the reason she's so possessive is because you're the only person in her life who truly sees her. no one else has cared about her like you, and the thought of someone else stealing you from her is absolutely mortifying.

🗡there have been many instances in which she breaks down to you about her insecurities, and you understand it. in your eyes, she's the most gorgeous girl you've ever seen, and you experience your fair share of jealousy. you run your hands through her hair, something incredibly vulnerable for her that she's allowed you to do, and assure her that you wouldn't want anyone else.

🗡you're more than content to live with rhiannon's possessiveness, even if it means that the men that bother you often end up missing.

nsfw under the cut

🗡when rhiannon gets jealous, more often than not, she gets turned on. really, really turned on. after all, it gives her such a rush to know that people can look at you all they want, but no one will ever be able to have you, to fuck you, like her.

🗡if she notices someone flirting with you while you're out at the bar, she will be dragging you home, desperate to have you all to herself (but not before she approaches the two of you, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your cheek while asking, "babe, who's this?")

🗡sometimes, if the bar is too far or she's feeling especially needy, she'll drag you into the nearest alleyway then and there. you have your reservations, but when she's two fingers deep inside of you whispering that she'll kill anyone who sees the two of you, your inhibitions fly out the window.

🗡whether she's dominant or not depends on the day. some days, she wants to bury her fingers deep inside of you, making you cry out her name until she's wrung multiple orgasms out of you. it gives her such a rush, knowing that you give in so easily and so willingly, all because you're hers. but some days, all she wants is for you to get her off. whether it's guiding your hands to her (absolutely dripping) panties, riding your face, or bouncing on your strap, she needs you to make her cum, and you're more than happy to oblige.

🗡she'll force you to look into her eyes, her grip on your chin tightening and wrenching your face up to look at her if you dare to break eye contact for even a second. "look at me", she growls, bottom lip between her teeth as you bring her closer to the edge. she wants - no, needs - you to see her, because you're the only one who can. you see her.

🗡aftercare with her after jealous sex is always so soft, pressing soft kisses to her forehead as the two of you lie in bed panting. you reassure her that you're hers, forever and always, and you can see the way a smile forms on her face at your words.

🗡you're hers. forever. and she'll always make sure of that.

[guppybibi]

Ditzy Princess

𖦹 pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x fem!reader

𖦹 word count: 2019

𖦹 content: mild cursing, childhood friends to lovers (eventually..) , denial, she fell first but he fell harder, reader is oikawa’s little sister, reader’s brain is a lil empty, but she's a strong woman nonetheless!!

𖦹notes: i have so many wips..but hajime my Filipino king AUGHH (im gaslighting myself shh)

✧. ┊    Part 1

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ

Being Oikawa Tooru’s little sister meant that you were equally as insufferable as him, debatably even more than him according to Iwaizumi. Iwa wouldn't go as far to say he disliked you, despite you being 2 years younger than Oikawa, the three of you still grew up together and developed a pretty strong bond. Oikawa had his moments, being the seemingly arrogant and egotistical person he is. Iwa was aware Tooru had some issues with his self esteem and was helping him in his own way. But in your case, nothing was backing you up. You really were just a crybaby diva, wailing as her big brother comes to save her. It really didn't start off so bad, after all you were a child who needed guidance and protection. He expected you to just grow out of it, news flash—you didn't.

Now that you're in your first year in Seijoh, he couldn't avoid you at all no matter how hard he tried. Being a headache must be in the genes, I guess. But you weren't worth putting up with, so he just started distancing himself away from you. Sure, sometimes you would barge into the gym, interrupting their practice to go to your doting brother. Which pissed him off, obviously. Though it was hard to tell since he always had a scowl on his face no matter the situation. Oh and by sometimes, he means every single day–unless you were absent or something.

Unfortunately for him, Oikawa wasn’t present today due to getting a nasty cold. Normally he’d make fun of Oikawa, along with the rest of the Seijoh four but he remembers that you’re present and that he would be your temporary savior while your brother is gone. It didn’t help that today in particular was a pretty stressful one, and as if the Gods above cursed him, a bunch of assholes picked on you for being the ‘uglier’ sibling. A bunch of envious little liars.

Naturally, it was your first instinct to go to annoy him. Your muffled cries could already be heard before you've even entered the gym, which made Hajime groan in annoyance as he muttered a random curse under his breath. And as if on cue, the metal door of the gym slides open; unveiling a very much messed up you.

Your mascara all smudged across your pretty face, fat tears staining it. Your subtly pink lips all wobbly as you make your way to Iwaizumi, knowing your brother wasn't here. At this point, this was basically a daily routine for the team, they didn't complain though. You coming in here and taking their captain and or ace meant they had an opportunity to take a break.

“ ‘Zumi! T-they were being so mean to me again, I didn't do anything wrong!” You cry out as you approach the ace with a pout on your face. ‘Pathetic..’ He thinks to himself, you were more than capable enough to defend yourself. (Verbally, at least. Physically is a different story.) “It's not my fault I don't look exactly like Oikawa! And I can't do anything about it, why pick on me for it?!” You continue, wiping away a tear from your glossy eyes.

Hajime couldn't even say anything in response, this wasn't the first time you came to him after someone bullied you for whatever reason. It was a sad thing to happen to you, but did you really have to go to him or your big brother every single time? What if they're not there for you? What will you do then? Still his good conscience couldn't just leave you sobbing like that, your doting brother wouldn't be happy about it.

Placing a rough calloused hand on your trembling shoulder, as an attempt to comfort you he starts speaking. “And what did you say to them after?” He asks, it was a completely normal question, you knew that. But you were used to just..constant coddling, no other questions asked–just instantly tending to you. “I..Nothing? I mean, maybe what they're saying is true..it still hurts though..” You reply, earning a nod from your older brother's friend. You had a point there, but you should still stick up for yourself! You had to learn, plus he didn't want to keep playing as your knight in shining armor when the two of you are pushing your thirties.

“Did you want to say something back to them?” He questions, raising a brow. You could be doing this for shits and giggles for all he knows, maybe this was a plan you and Oikawa had or something. “Well um, kind of?..” Even that answer somehow made sense, coming from a ditz like you–he didn't really expect much. “So can you or can you not defend yourself?” He asked yet again with a gruff voice, watching intently as he saw you shake your head. Okay, cool. You aren't doing this just to piss him off, that's a start.

“I could teach you, if you want to.” You blink once, twice. “Teach me how to..fight for myself?” You never considered it, you were just used to your big brother being there for you. No matter how serious or stupid it was, he’d be there in a flash. He nodded, crossing his arms as you thought about it. Your brother wouldn't always be here, today was proof of it. The same goes for Hajime, who knows where he's going after high school?

“I..think that’ll be nice actually.” And those were the words that started your tutoring sessions. You were incredibly nervous the first few times, like the personification of an earthquake. You did soon manage to get the hang of it, being able to defend yourself against your bullies unless it was really necessary for your brother and or him to step in.

To be honest, Oikawa was pretty opposed to the idea at first. Saying to his best friend that teaching her all of this ‘nonsense’ wasn't needed since he’ll always be there for her anyway. (What Oikawa didn't know is that Iwa was doing future him a favor, I mean–he didn't know he was going to Argentina!)

And so ‘Operation: Teach Y/N How to Defend Herself’ was successful. It had been like years ago at this point, barely remembered by you two like some distant memory. You didn't piss him off that much anymore, though he did have little to no contact with you; only getting updates through Oikawa.

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When he went to Irvine, California for personal matters he was aware of you being there as well since you went to visit and stayed at your grandparents. The chances of you two meeting were slim but fate had to play its part too! Now the both of you were sitting side by side, having a cup of ice cream as you catched up on your lives.

He told you about the meeting he just had with Takashi, some stuff about sports science and his personal life and whatnot. While you told him about life here in the States, being taken care of by your overbearing grandparents and stuff. You were a lot more mature than what Hajime had remembered, still a scatterbrain though. Though something comes up, leaving Hajime at some random bench while he taps away on his phone after you exchanged him your number. Saving it and putting in ‘Puny Princess’, it was stupid–he knew it was as he chuckled to himself.

No matter how fully grown you are, you’ll always be that spoiled little brat who seeks her dear knight in shining armor's protection.

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He was flying back to Japan soon, and he wanted nothing more but to cancel his flight and stay here–with you. Highschooler Iwaizumi would be laughing his ass off right now, any chance to get away from you was a blessing. He’d get on that plane like he's being chased by the police. He thought about it a lot, was it because you were less of a pain in the ass? Nope, that couldn't be the case because you still were. Sure, you didn't exactly need Prince Charming anymore which made you considerably much more bearable but it felt like there was something more to it. Why won’t life just tell him instead of forcing him to dig through a bunch of dirt in his mind?

Maybe he simply got used to being around you, to be fair–he’s been with you through thick and thin after all. Yup, that's what it was. No need to manually crank the gears in his brain anymore, this was totally it. Would he admit he had a teensy weensy little crush on you when you two were kids? God no, and that doesn't matter! I mean, that was like a decade ago–he doubts that mattered right now in any shape or form.

Well the first stage of grief was denial, he’ll work his way up. You, on the other hand, have fully accepted this stupid happy crush you got on Iwaizumi. Even your big brother knew about it, well you were pretty much an open book. Hey, your brother’s words–not mine. The way your cherubic cheeks would heat up when Hajime helped you up when you got yourself stuck in the mud, it was painstakingly obvious that you had liked him ever since.

You and your big brother had a heart to heart talk about back in middle school actually, it sits there playing constantly at the back of your mind.

It was midnight and Oikawa had come home late, you noticed he had been practicing overtime these days which worried you quite a bit but you knew Hajime was there to keep him grounded. So that's how the two of you ended up at 1AM, your brother silently eating his late cold dinner while you accompanied him.

“Did ‘Zumi practice late with you..?” You questioned, breaking the growing silence in the room. In response, he nodded and let out a dry chuckle. “Mhm, you haven't spoken a word since I got home and when you decide to speak it's about Iwa-chan? Do you not care about your dear big brother anymore?” He asks, dramatically feigning hurt as he places a hand on his chest.

He didn't miss how your lips went and formed a thin line, trying your best not to crack a smile. “Cmon, don't lie to your big brother–you like Iwa, don't you?” He teases, trying to get it out of you like he's sipping the very last drop out of the milk carton. “Maybe just a little..” You mumble, finding it just a little bit embarrassing that out of all the fish in the never ending sea, you manage to have feelings for your brother's best friend. “Hm..well I guess if you were to pick someone to marry I’d honestly prefer Iwa y’know?” You almost choke on your own spit upon hearing his words, blushing furiously. “E-eh?! Marry?! It's too early for that!” You exclaim, while your brother starts laughing like a hyena.

His words were very much true though, he trusted Iwa–so much so that if he had the chance to pick the person you’ll marry, he'd choose Hajime with no hesitation.

You roll around in your soft bed, unable to sleep as Iwaizumi’s face keeps flashing in your mind like a broken record. Wanting nothing more than to scream into your pillow, but your grandparents sleeping soundly in the other room prevented you from doing so. You wondered if you would ever go back to Japan, it seemed like your brother wouldn't after hearing him recently renounce his citizenship but it's not like you were going to follow in his footsteps. You've never felt this homesick before, stupid Iwaizumi–it's his fault for coming here unannounced. You thought your delicate heart moved on from this childish crush of yours after not seeing him in a couple of years, looks like it bounced back after meeting up with him again though..

Well, at least you had some form of communication with him after you gave him your number. That was temporarily enough for you.

[darylsfavoritegirl]

Hey guys!

Summary: This takes place in Alexandria era. There is a welcoming party thrown for the new group. Daryl doesn't come because of his complicated relationship with Y/n but once he stops by the party, he sees Y/n being all flirty and nasty with Spencer lol and Daryl gets superrr jeaolus only for him and y/n to end up arguing like crazyyy and kinda make a scene at the party (?). Daryl and y/n are like friends with benefits??? but it's complicated :/ and this is like a moment where Daryl realizes y/n is more than somebody he happens to share a bed with now and then.

Also they are not DATING. they're just fucking now and then with no strings attached. no emotions involved (atleast that's what they agreed to without ever talking) so this isn't cheating!!!

Warnings: mentions of rape. Spencer being an asshole and trying to take advantage of drunk Y/n. Daryl punching Spencer. Suggestive content. Lemme know if there is more!

this is more of a fancy welcoming party than that of in the show. they aren't gonna show up with jeans and stuff!

Y/n ran her fingers through her body, looking at the her reflection on the mirror with dilated pupils; not being able to take her eyes off of herself. She got all dolled up, her hair and make up done. She was wearing an alluring, ostentatious dress that was hugging her curves flawlessly which was given to her from a lovely woman in Alexandria. Y/n's head was slightly tilted as she kept eyeing herself.

"Ugh I can't even remember the last time I wore a dress." Rosita complained. Y/n looked over at her and gently grinned.

"I know right." Y/n said "Me neither." she added.

Y/n kept leering at her reflection when her eyes caught Maggie entering the room with a charming dress and a pleasant smile on her face. Y/n turned to her and slowly reached for her purse that was on the nightstand.

"Y'all ready?" Maggie queried.

"Almost." Rosita responded back with an enthusiastic undertone. It was true they went through hell to get where they are at this moment. They all knew that. They were all suffering in agony. These thoughts kept pondering Y/n's head when she heard the door being shut loudly from downstairs.

"Daryl's home." Maggie uttered while cautiously leering at Y/n. Nobody exactly knew what went down between them but it was clear as day that something did. They were distant from eachother, barely even talking. Everyone knew they weren't romantic in any sense but some kind of relationship beyond just friends or teammates formed itself between them back in the prison. They were top secret. Even the ones that know what they once were, couldn't dare to talk about it; like Maggie.

"He is not coming to the party?" Rosita mumbled under her breath to kill the peculiar silence.

"I don't think so." Maggie huffed after taking a deep breath, her eyes still roaming Y/n's movements. She took a deep breath again

"You should come downstairs if you're all done. We will be goin' in 10-15 minutes." She spoke after she checked y/n for the last time.

She left the room. Rosita looked over at y/n for a brief moment. She barely knew anyone but she could sense there was something wrong, though, she remained silent.

"Uhh, I need to go to bathroom for something. I'll meet you downstairs." She said in a hurry as she grabbed her purse and made her way to the bathroom.

Y/n sighed audibly. She felt as if her track of thought was transparent and they could sense everything. She didn't know if Daryl was still downstairs and hoped that he wouldn't be. She gazed at her reflection for a brief moment and left the room.

••••••

Y/n saw Daryl as she stepped in downstairs. He was in the kitchen, a beer bottle on the kitchen counter. His hair was messy and greasy. His hands were on the kitchen counter. He was looking at the door, his back facing Y/n. He turned his head lightly as soon as he felt someone's presence. Y/n couldn't help but leer at his eyes exactly like he did. He may have checked Y/n from head to toe for a second or so, not showing any kind of affection nor admiration in his eyes or his body language. He made his way to the couch, put the beer bottle on the coffee table and started cleaning his filthy arrows with the cloth that was always in his jean pockets.

Y/n was almost feeling embarrased being infront of him like this. A sexy mini black dress, her hair and make-up done. She was incompetently trying to cover her legs with the purse. She was normally wearing even shorter shorts due to humid and the heat of the south and it wasn't like Daryl hadn't already seen every inch of her body but this, for some reason, felt different. A part of her sinked in sorrow because Y/n knew she couldn't have an intimate night tonight like many other nights with Daryl. "He is acting foolish." She got hot inside of her head. When was she ever gonna wear a dress like this and look like this again? And yet, there he was, missing such a fancy oppurtinity that he could've participated with her, show up with her. Hell, maybe that would keep jerks like Spencer away. It was play pretend. She knew that. The people that took them knew that, however shamming the old world wasn't immoral. Y/n didn't mind the elegance of the event, she cared for Daryl beyond that even if she didn't want to admit it but there was no harm for these type of things here and there. She was almost arguing with herself inside of her head. Y/n could feel herself getting sweaty already in that 6 inch dress. Thankfully, her saviors have been Glenn and Rick that ringed the door bell. She almost ran to the door, Daryl followed her with his eyes but turned back to working on his crossbow right after. Rosita and Maggie came downstairs as Y/n welcomed Rick and Glenn inside. They were gonna meet the others in the party. Glenn rushed over to Maggie, gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Rick couldn't help but look at the ladies with enchanted eyes

"You all look gorgeous tonight." He uttered confidently. There was no denying that he could be flirty.

He leered at Daryl and his smile faded away quickly.

"Your not comin' to the party?" he huffed. One could tell he already knew the answer by his tone. Everyone, including Y/n turned to Daryl. He shrugged his shoulders" 'M fine." He said then took a sip of his beer "Might stop ba later." he grunted.

"You better." Rick spoke in a daring tone as he frowned lightly. Daryl made a "Mhmm." sound and looked at his beer bottle for a moment and went back to continue the tense eye contact they had already formed. Daryl didn't seem bothered at all, not breaking the eye contact with Rick.

Daryl's eyes locked on Y/n's for a brief second before he got up, grabbed his beer and crossbow and went upstairs.

"And I thought I did a good speech about first impressions." Rick huffed under his breath, not hiding his frustration even a little.

Glenn looked at him with a knowing look as they lead the ladies to the door.

•••••••••

At the party, Y/n started helping with the beverages. She gave a proud look to Rosita as she came closer to her.

"Reminds me of old days you know." Y/n spoke as she watched Rosita coming closer.

"What do you mean?" Rosita asked.

Y/n was tipsy. She lightly hit her forehead with her fingers

"You don't know right? I was a barmaiden before all this." Y/n shouted as it could be hard for Rosita to hear her because of loud music. She never loved the job but anyone would miss anything from the past nowadays.

"That's good." Rosita expressed, with a fond smile on her face. She was only growing to love y/n's energy more.

Y/n didn't have to prepare beverages, she wasn't asked to. She only did it because it was taking her off of Daryl. Rosita sat one of the stools infront of her. She was watching people have fun when she saw Spencer approach them from the corner of her eyes.

Spencer approached y/n with a ludicrous smile bearing his face. Y/n instantly stopped what she was doing and looked at him with seductive eyes. She got drunk enough to not care about anything, anyone and after all her thing with Daryl have only been about sexual intercourse, nothing more. For the moment, that felt like a done deal too. No could blame her for wanting look for more. Rosita kept watching them for a minute or so when she decided to leave those two alone.

It was evident that Spencer was a bit intoxicated too if not as much as Y/n. He offered her hand to y/n for her to get out of the bar, she gently accepted his hand. Spencer placed his hands on y/n's waist as she looked at him with tempting eyes.

"You look gorgeous tonight." Spencer spoke. His voice was sloppy, even a little bit alcohol could make him talk funny. On the other hand, Y/n was too wasted to see that. She kept looking at his eyes with those seductive eyes of her. She didn't need to speak. Her eyes would do the job for her most of the time.

"You wanna dance?" Y/n whispered into Spencer's ear. She almost fell into his arms because she had to be on her tiptoes to reach him. He caught y/n and laughed it off.

"Yeah. S-sure." He said in a hectic tone. Spencer held y/n hand and led her to a corner. Y/n couldn't care less how far she'd go. She looked into Spencer's eyes with a fierce, alluring look before placing her hands on his chest. Spencer smirking lightly as he replaced his hands on her waist. They danced in that position for a moment, getting closer with each passing second and snuggling into one another. Their bodies were touching eachother passionately. They could feel eachother's breaths on their skin. Y/n wrapped her hands around Spencer more and went further with her sensual actions. Spencer could feel himself getting dizzy both because of alcohol and how far Y/n was going and grinding herself against him. He would whisper into her hear.

"You're so beautiful."

"Yeah just like that."

Y/n couldn't hear him, she was using him in a sense. She just went further and further with her suggestive moves that would drive any man out there crazy. They were lucky everybody was dancing, otherwise everyone would talk about them and give them disapproved looks. On the other hand, Spencer was fantasizing about taking Y/n to his place, spend a fabulous night. Y/n was wasted anyway, Spencer relieved himself. He wasn't gonna get ignored by her like always. Even at that point, he couldn't believe Y/n was all over him, grinding her ass against him so harshly yet so gently.

"Oh no." Maggie uttered silently as she pulled her arms that were grabbing Glenn on the shoulder softly. She scowled. Glenn took a deep breath, his annoyance growing thicker.

"For the millionth time Maggie, let Y/n have her fun. She is a grown woman." He sighed, obviously giving up. Glenn made out there was no way he could stop Maggie worrying about Y/n.

"No." Maggie said in concern. She softly pointed a spot behind Glenn with her head, her uneasy eyes widening a little bit more with each second. Glenn's eyes followed her gaze and he fixed his leer at Daryl and mildly huffed under his breath

"Fuck. He's been moody all week, right?"

"And he was drinking when we left." Maggie uttered.

They were both perturbed about what might happen.

"Look we step in if something happens, OK?" Glenn gently said to Maggie, trying his best to give her assurance.

"No need to get him all worked up." Glenn was trying to persuade Maggie to stay out of it unless a scene broke out at the party. Maggie nodded, slowly wrapping her hands around Glenn and smiling at once.

••••••••••

Daryl sat down on one of the stools that were lined up front of the bar, looking around to find a familiar face. He sighed at the failure of finding no one that he knew. This party wasn't for him. It reminded him the days where Merle and his friends would force him go downtown to hang out aimlessly in nightclubs, bars; hitting on every single girl that would catch their eyes regardless if they had someone with them. He hadn't really meet anyone yet. He was going on runs without any prearrangments and without letting anybody know, all alone. He asked for a scotch. His mind was busy. He thought guzzling one beer after another and working on his crossbow would engage his mind nevertheless, that failed.

He took a sip from his drink when he narrowed his eyes slightly at something. He thought he must've been hallucinating or mistake her for someone but it was clear as day. Y/n was dancing with Spencer and it was safe to say that it wasn't a cute, typical dance. They were all over eachother as if their bodies were glued. Y/n's hair was tangled and messy from the heat or who knows, from how long she had been dancing. She wasn't breaking the tense eye contact with Spencer. She was touching his face and giggling erotically at the same time. She would turn now and then and grind her entire body harshly against Spencer's for a brief moment in a seductive way. Her already-mini dress would fold everytime she did that. Spencer's hand would run through the front of her thighs. He would stroke Y/n's arms, hair, waist, anything. He would touch and caress every part of Y/n's body and Y/n didn't seem to mind.

Daryl's mind twitched at this scene. He didn't move. He wasn't fully drunk but his mind was growing more and more lethargic. He couldn't think clear. He felt a sense of jeaolusy, but did he have a right to feel that way? He had been avoiding her for weeks and so had she. Did he lose her completely? Did he ever have her entirely to himself? Was she trying to take revenge? Did it look like revenge or was she actually enjoying this? Didn't Y/n once say she liked the attention she was receiving from men when she was working as a barmaiden? Didn't she like to play with them like toys only for them to tip her more?

A heavy feeling of insecurity washed all over Daryl. It was crystal clear that Y/n was bewitching, almost way too bewitching. It wasn't like he never appreciated her beauty. The days he would wake up next to her and watch her chest going up and down lighly and admiring her beauty were countless. Maybe he should've made it more plain. He couldn't. A lump in his throat formed itself when he would think of the wall between them that he created. He couldn't be more. He didn't even know if he wanted to. He never had to worry about someone else back in the prison. There was only them and no one else. Spencer have been boldly flirting with Y/n ever since they got here. Daryl never could've foreseen that it would end like this. Y/n never responded back to Spencer after all.

Daryl's knuckles were turning whiter around his drink everytime he would fix his eyes on them. The sensation of jeaolusy and insecurity were no longer there. He was furious, bitter. All he wanted to do was to punch Spencer in the face. His glare growing more stern with each second, yet he couldn't get himself to get up and go over there. He was breathing fire. He examined Y/n's face, movements. He wanted to despise her but he horribly failed. He could just sit there and torture himself with this view, perhaps he deserved it. He notioned he deserved to torment himself with any way he could. Though he never would've want the torturer to be someone he deeply cared about in deep down. His eyes were hurting.

"Wanna go to my place?" Spencer whispered into Y/n's ear. "This place is getting boring." He added. Y/n gazed at him with puppy eyes before responding "Sure." She was wasted. She could barely even walk. Spencer smirked at her. It was not a pure smirk.

Daryl's eyes darted away to other people in the party for a second and went back to staring Spencer. He has acknowledged Spencer's intentions. He left his drink on the long thin table, he got up and slowly started walking towards them. He couldn't understand why Y/n hadn't see him until then. He knew what he had to do. He was gonna convince Y/n to come with him one way or another.

He got closer to them, he firmly grabbed Y/n by the hand and drew her to himself. She almost fell over him. "Daryl." she said in a tone above whisper. He stared into Spencer eyes in a stern manner and turned back to y/n

"Yer comin' with me." He stated. Y/n pulled her hand to herself and howled

"The hell I'm not." She was drunk yet strong.

"He was 'bout to leave with me man." Spencer spoke in a haggard tone. His tone indicated that he was irascible. Spencer's hand took place between Daryl and Y/n implying that Daryl couldn't touch her.

"She 's drunk, don' ya see that " Daryl grunted. He kept looking at Spencer, waiting for a respond.

"She can rest at my place." He grinned ludicrously.

Daryl could feel his blood boiling. He felt as if this Spencer guy was only trying to get under his skin. "And yer gon' let her sleep just like tha' " He huffed in a sarcastic fashion. He couldn't even believe he was still speaking with him. He looked over Y/n.

"Come on y/n. wer leavin' "

Y/n was sleepy. She clattered a "Mmm" sound as she let herself lean onto Daryl. She couldn't even focus on one thing anymore. Daryl held her by the waist and started making his way to the entrance when Spencer cut him.

"And your gonna let that mess sleep, huh?"

He pointed at Y/n by raising his eyebrows. That ludicrous smirk hadn't faded a bit. He was crossing the line. He was being stupid.

"Don't you think I haven't noticed the way you look at her."

Daryl kept looking at him without saying a word. He then spoke, gritting his teeth.

"Yea wanna do this here man?" He was giving Spencer one last chance so that he doesn't get beaten up. Spencer once again looked foolish, not understanding what he could've meant by that. Daryl was waiting for a response, he never got it but Spencer was not getting out of the way neither.

Y/n wasn't that sleepy at that point. She noticed Daryl's hands on her and freed herself from his grip and simply sat on one of the stools. She grabbed her hand to her head, whimpering in pain while she slowly massaged her temples.

Spencer looked at her with a knowing look. That was it. That was the last straw. Daryl looked over Y/n for a moment before jumping Spencer and punching him on the face with all his power. Spencer fell down and immediatly covered his face with his hand, his blood started oozing from his nose to the floor. He tumbled into some of the people there as he fell, which all screamed consecutively to the scene infront of their eyes. He had a huge ego built in himself that he didn't believe anyone would dare to touch Deanna's son, especially in a place like this; in an event like this. He leered at Daryl with confounded eyes.

Y/n turned to her back after hearing everyone scream. Her gaze shifted to Daryl after she saw Spencer lying on the floor with blood oozing everywhere. Y/n didn't say a word, neither did Daryl. However she had an uneasy look on her face. Daryl looked at her with stern eyes, not saying anything. He couldn't believe she was still where she was, not moving; not coming next to him. He was virtually disheartened.

"Fuck this." He grunted before looking at Spencer for the last time. He walked out from the scene. Y/n's eyes followed his every move when Rick arrived

"What happened?" He asked with curious eyes.

Y/n got up from the stool and sighed

"Daryl happened." She took one last glare to Spencer who was looking at y/n aswell. Y/n couldn't make out what his gaze meant. He wasn't angry, disappointed nor shocked.

Rick tried to grab her by the arm however she left the area somehow.

She scurried out. Her eyes scrutinizing the whole yard looking for Daryl. Y/n walked in a rush for a while when she saw him near the perimeter where people were taking patrols. He turned to her. He was enraged. Y/n had never seen him like this before. He was slightly trembling like he had just crashed into something. He tried to control his panting as he cried out

"If yer here to blame me, don't."

Y/n was taken aback by his cold manner. His "don't" sounded as if he was pleading. Yet she didn't step back. Maybe it was the intoxication, maybe it was the bottled up emotions she had been keeping inside of her for weeks but she didn't step back.

"Who else is there to blame besides you, Daryl" she uttered.

"You started off by ruining everyone's mood back at the house to punch Spencer on the face in the middle of a party." She shouted.

Some of the guards were staring down at them, looking fed up with the noisy party music, people throwing up here and there and now these two.

"A party that was thrown for us." Y/n added. She wasn't lightening the harsh, accusing tone in her voice even a little.

"I don' give a dam' 'bout the party." He uttered, swinging his arm at Y/n.

"You may not care," Y/n said, her voice started to tremble

"But the others do." She ended her sentence.

"It actually matters for some of us to survive in some place that's safe and liveable."

"Hell with all of 'em." He spoke.

There was a brief silence before he grunted

"Funny yea still think this 's all 'bout this damn place." His voice was slightly tall.

"Ya didn't see how he was droolin' all over ya." He looked at y/n. He was still, however his mood lied heavily on Y/n's words.

"Fuck you and Spencer. I was having fun." She emphasized on her words. Her frustration was growing bigger

"Ya callin' that fun? Grindin' yer body against some dude?"

"Yes, I call that fun Daryl. Have a problem with that?" She sighed at his sight.

Daryl stayed silent. He knew y/n was trying to get a reaction out of him. Both of them caught their breaths when Daryl spoke

"Yer so clueless, aren't ya?"

"Yer doin' it on purpose." He laughed it off while shaking his head. Y/n couldn't find something to say. She focused on her breathing, tried to calm herself down. Her heart was beating like it was trying to get out of her chest. She could hear her pulse's banging in her ears.

"He wouldva raped yea 'n yea wouldn't even know."

Y/n narrowed her eyes keenly at his statement.

"You ar- y-you." She was stuttering. She didn't know what to say. She just looked at Daryl. Her eyes got watery, she sobered up right there. Daryl fought back thinking she had something more to say in contrast.

"What? Yea thought he was fixin' to take yea in his place to feed yea a bowl of steamin' soup?" He grunted. He didn't care if he was being bitter. He didn't care if it would cause him to lose y/n entirely. He just knew he had to speak on what he saw tonight. Their eyes were still locked up on eachother when Daryl's eyes shifted something else behind Y/n. Y/n followed his gaze only to see Rick and Maggie coming towards them. The rest of their people were lined up infront of the door, watching them.

"Enough." Rick shouted as he got closer.

Both of their eyes were fixated on Rick.

FOOTNOTE

hey guys!! omg the duties i been ignoring to write these are crazy (no complains whatsoever im into this lol) i initially planned writing this even longer and a bit different (daryl practically dragging y/n to the house and y/n puking etc and it would end in a soft way?? like them cuddling and kissing etc and they would acknowledge eachothers povs etc but it would be a whole damn novel by itself and ive been impatient posting this so idk maybe a sequel??) also ive noticed its impossible to avoid daryl getting ooc now and then.. i yield... sometimes he is gonna feel ooc.. and there is nothing i can do🥹🥹

lemme know your thoughts!! love yall

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/765221485179731968/writing-about-my-favorite-characters-as?source=share

I'm really sorry to hear you're going through this, anon. I'm even sadder that it's not an uncommon story.

As another trans writer (trans woman, in my case) that's stumbled into other people eviscerating her works for "fetishizing" and being "het in f/f's clothing" I really sympathize with you, dude. The way I look at it is that you cannot try alter who you are for these people. They will always find a way to dislike you because you are their ideological enemy. They dislike seeing trans men in what they see as their ship tags, not yours, so they will always find something they view as a flaw and flog you for it until you either conform or leave.

I've had a similar experience to yours, though not a literal thread dedicated to me. Ouch. I write f/f and sometimes that features non-op/pre-op trans characters because I am personally non-op after many years on E, and I'm always astounded by how it obviously upsets people that otherwise claim to be progressive. I also tag things extensively and I even include some terminology clarifications at the beginning of smut fics so that everyone knows what they're getting into. It doesn't matter to them. It'll never matter to them what you or I do, so why bother trying to coddle them?

There are readers that like my works, but after walking into a fandom Discord's NSFW fic channel, I saw how many people assume that my fics are written by a cis person or the fabled Dirty Fetishizer. It's one thing to intellectually know this happens and another to see your own work - something that you as a trans person created to talk about some part of yourself - ripped apart as this nasty tripe that no "real" trans person would write or read.

To make matters worse, I saw all that after I went through a rather nasty spate of transphobic anons when the fandom was very young. It was so tiring. I was exhausted. Seeing virulent hate in the real world and then having it thrown in my face for writing characters in a way that people disagreed with was just too much for me.

My way of dealing with this was disengaging from my own fandom, turning off anons on tumblr, and blocking anyone I even felt slightly annoyed by just in case it boiled over into something else. It sucks, but it's how I continue to have fun with writing for my ships. I basically never go into my ship tags on Tumblr now, I curate whose fics I read carefully, and I only hang out in one Discord server that's very small. I still read and comment on others' works when I have the mental bandwidth for it, but I avoid most other writers, especially those I don't know just in case they're part of that -phobe segment, and keep the most vocally unpleasant authors permanently muted for my own sake.

Frankly, it is what it is, as thought terminating as that phrase can be, and I gave up trying with these people/this fandom. You could keep trying to interact with the greater fandom, but you should block the assholes that disregarded your lived experience for your own mental health.

It's an isolating process for sure, but that's why I supplemented it with seeking out other fandom friends, most of whom are trans. Maybe we disagree with headcanons, and in a lot of cases we're polar opposites, but we all stick together because otherwise we're all thrown into isolation. That, and I always try to focus on the folks that do like what I write.

--

[seventeenpins]

triptych - pt i

pairing: tommy miller x joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: after a shitty day, you go to a shitty bar to decompress. you're not in the mood to chat with anyone, but the man who sits at the bar beside you has other ideas. after a surprisingly nice night, you go back to his place only to discover he lives with his brother who happens to be an old flame of yours.

warnings: okay this part is a little suggestive but not really at all filthy (that'll come in part 2), reader comes off as an asshole but really she's just having a bad day, drinking, weed smoking, lil bit of grinding, intoxication with intention to fuck whilst under the influence but they're all into it, reader gets horny cos tommy has a cool lighter ????, no actual sex (yet), innuendo

a/n: thank you for the input both on my recent poll and in response to nb characters in future fic! i'm working on a couple of pieces but decided i'd first start with the poll winner: joel + tommy + reader threesome. there are so many great threesome fics already out there, so thanks for taking the time to read my humble offering to the genre. additional things -- there's no significant age gap. tommy is 25, reader is 29 and joel is 31 (or thereabouts, with that general spacing). sarah (referenced but not seen) is 8. part two is gonna get freaky af, and i'm always happy to hear about what nasty shit people wanna see in fic.

check out part ii

the lighting is low and the music is loud, the bass pulsing through the dive bar. It’s not a nice place, this bar, the floors and counters perpetually sticky in a way that makes you feel unreasonably grimy, but the drinks are cheap and strong.

you’re nursing a jack and coke, your third of the night, and you’re relaxing into the dizzying buzz when you feel the presence of a body scooting into the barstool next to yours.

please don’t try to talk to me, you silently will, just let me have one night of peace, please universe-

“what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” 

fuck

you don’t try to hold back your eyeroll at the cliche and make a show of knocking back the rest of your drink before responding, making no effort to look at the person next to you.

“until about thirty seconds ago, I was enjoying my drink,” you pause for emphasis, "by myself."

the bartender picks up your empty and you nod at him when he asks if you want another.

much to your annoyance, your rudeness doesn’t seem to dissuade your unwanted neighbor at all. he just chuckles. 

“bad day, huh?” he asks, and you nod. 

“yeah, me too,” he agrees, and you can feel his eyes on you as you start sipping. you can feel his hesitation before he speaks again, but you can just feel he's gonna blow right past it. "so, you wanna talk about your bad day? he asks.

"nope," you tell him, "you're not my therapist. you're just some... guy who wants to bother a woman who is very clearly trying to drink alone."

he lets out a sigh.

"look," he says, "i am sorry that i'm bothering you, and if you'd like me to leave, i won't say another word. i guess you just looked, like, genuinely lonely, and that shit fuckin sucks."

you soften at his words, and turn to look at him for the first time as he backs off and starts to get up.

"i'm sorry," you say, "i'm being an asshole."

he snorts, and smiles at you, a little abashed. you take him in. he's tall, with dark hair and dark eyes and, much to your chagrin, a really beautiful smile. he's a little freckled, and wearing a button-up that's rolled up his admittedly gorgeous and muscled forearms, and it's open and you can see the shape of his chest through his undershirt, and your stomach does a little flip.

"it's okay," you tell him, "stay. tell me all about your shitty day."

you smile, encouraging, and he sits down again.

it's an hour later, or maybe two, and you're not quite sure how many drinks you've had, nor how many he's had, but you're definitely on some side of drunk. you're leaning into the man, who's introduced himself as tommy and smells very nice (kinda musky and a little sweaty but in the nicest way and you wish there was a not-weird way to sniff his goddamn armpits but that's pretty inarguably weird.)

you find out you went to the same high school, but you were a few years ahead of him. probably caught one or two of the years my brother was there, though he told you, and you wondered if you'd ever met him.

when you asked if he had any weed, he grinned, very kindly insists he cover all of your drinks (for being a nuisance earlier in the night, please let me make it up to you, hon-) and leads you by the hand through the back of the building to the alleyway.

as alleyways go, this one is pretty nice. it's dark by now, but colorful graffiti covers the walls and though it's not an 'official' mural, you love it dearly and consider it a favorite.

tommy digs in a jacket pocket and produces a slightly-smushed-but-still-fat joint, and holds it out to you. you put it between your lips, and draw back, looking him up and down.

he pulls out a lighter--an oddly old fashioned sort of style that you really didn't anticipate from him. you'd expect a plastic gas station lighter, or even a naked lady bic instead of something that looked antique and well-maintained.

the casual way he interacted with this object he'd clearly taken such care of was, strangely, a massive fucking turn on.

when he'd first sat down, you were certain he was some sort of frat boy asshole. but after he'd told you about his shitty day (in which he ended up being 'slightly electrocuted' and received an absolute lambasting from his 'asshole of a boss big brother' about 'safety measures or some such') then he'd listened to you tell him about the promotion you were just passed over for. he reassured you when you went back and forth about whether you were justified in being frustrated because maybe you weren't that good, and isn't that as good a reason to drink as any? he was kind and patient, but also flirty and confident. and that stupid fucking lighter. in a split second you create a whole backstory. the lighter was his grandfathers, from the turn of the century. he took care of it his whole life, and then tommy's dad took care of it, and then tommy, and he keeps it polished and filled and the wick in good condition--

this may not be the weirdest thing you've ever been turned on by before. probably. but a lighter, really?

and with all of that together, you realised it didn't matter if your little backstory wasn't even slightly true, cos it was weirdly stylish and unexpected and it looked really nice in his big, lovely, veiny, calloused hands.

you needed to fuck this man.

"what'cha lookin' at me like that for?" he asks, and you feel a blush rise on your cheeks, but you gather your confidence and tip your chin up, pointing the end of the joint directly towards him, and he sparks the lighter, shielding the flame from the wind.

when the joint's lit you take a deep hit and hold it for a moment, eyes closed, before you exhale. you're about to pass the joint to him before you get another idea. you inhale deeply again, and then grab him by the collar and pull him towards you.

tommy melts instantly, drawing towards you and capturing your lips in a kiss. it's deep and hot and you can feel yourself getting wet, and then you feel a little bit dizzy and pull back and exhale the smoke into his mouth. he breathes you in and practically moans.

he's beautiful, moving from being silhouetted by the light of the street lamps to being hit with an iridescent glow that makes him look angelic.

you pass the joint to him. hits it. passes it back-

it's a minute before you say another word, and then before you can say it, he beats you to the punch-- "wanna come back to my place?"

after what was probably only five minutes (but feels like an hour) of waiting, you're in the back of a cab straddling tommy. you're not usually this brazen, but you're a little bit crossfaded, dizzy and loose, savoring the feeling the motion of the car, tommy pressing kisses down your throat, the windows rolled down, your hair whipping between both of you in a way that would usually annoy you but is now just an additional sensation that you could get lost in. you let out a small moan when you feel his hands grip your hips and rock you towards him, and his cock is hard and thick in his jeans. you don't realise the cab has stopped by the time you get to his place, and the driver coughs loudly and the two of you break apart.

tommy nods at the house on the left of the car and you both hop out and head over to it. tommy fumbles with his keys as you make your way to the porch but before he can find the right one, you press him up against the door and kiss him again. he growls, dropping the keychain altogether, running a hand down your back and feeling the curves of your body, grabbing at your ass, running his hand between your legs and feeling the dampness at the crotch of your pants.

"jesus christ, girlie," he huffs, and you're about to kiss him again, when you see the house illuminated around you, tommy's and your shadows black against the door, and suddenly, two loud honks of a car horn.

you jump a foot in the air, and tommy shouts fuck with a not insignificant amount of frustration. the car that's just pulled into the drive goes silent. the lights go off, and then you see a broad figure getting out of the car and slamming the door.

you turn to tommy, wide-eyed. "are we-" and you're not sure how to ask what you wanna ask, "are we about to get murdered?"

tommy chuckles, but he still looks pissed off. "nah, sweetheart. that's just my asshole big brother. who wasn't meant to be at home tonight!" he shouts the last part as his brother comes into view, clearly trying to start something, and it almost makes you laugh at how immediately this otherwise charming man goes into petty sibling mode.

but then the approaching man is illuminated by the porch light, and your jaw drops.

"joel fucking miller?" you ask, and you're pretty sure he'd be saying your name like that, too, if he hadn't temporarily lost the ability to speak.

"are you-?" he asks.

"i'm-?" you say.

tommy looks between you two, brow furrowed. "i take it y'all know each other?" he asks, and joel makes a strangled sound while you snort out a laugh.

"sure do," you smile, and look at tommy. "but any chance we could go inside? my feet are killing me."

they both nod and joel unlocks the door, while tommy scrambles on the ground to find his keys.

when you're seated, you get to the story.

"i had the biggest crush on him in high school. senior year, he asked me to prom and we had a great time." joel smiles a little, eyes crinkling in a way they never did when he was younger and it makes you hungry in a way you can't articulate. god he's been aging well.

"but then joel graduated, and i had a couple more years of high school. we took a break for a while, i'd moved out of town for a year, but we went on a couple dates after i graduated and moved back."

tommy looks between you two, and you're glad he doesn't look jealous or upset or anything, cos even though he would have no right, you've absolutely dealt with men like that plenty before. instead, though, he doesn't look mad or frustrated. you can't for the life of you parse the expression on his face. at all. more than anything, he looks amused.

"so, what happened?" tommy asks.

"he found out he got his ex pregnant." you shrug.

you'd be lying if you said it hadn't wrecked you for a while when it'd happened. you made more than a couple mix tapes with truly tragic heartbreak songs, and you had been sad that the possibility of trying this with joel after years of teenage heartache had been ripped out from under you, but you honestly hadn't thought about it for a while. more than anything, you reckon it speaks to his character that he made sure to stay with the mother of his child and do the right thing raising her.

"her name's sarah, right? and how's your wife?"

joel makes a pained expression, and tommy winces.

"ah. 'fraid she left years ago. sarah was still a baby." there's an awkward silence, but then he smiles a dazzling smile, "and sarah's doin great. she's turnin' nine this year and she's top of her class. never thought a kid o' mine could turn out so fuckin' bright. thought i was gonna fuck her up only havin' me around, and her uncle tommy o' course, but damn that girl makes me real proud."

you smile, and you're genuinely glad for him.

"speaking of-" tommy says, and you can swear joel preemptively rolls his eyes, "you said you weren't gonna be home tonight."

"i said i'd be gone for some of tonight. it's already two in the morning. sarah's over at mom's, but i've got work early. she's gonna take care of her all day, and now i won't have to get up at the asscrack of dawn to get to the site on time."

"ah-" tommy says, "well shit."

you're all silent for another moment, and then as if a switch has flipped you realise how fuckin weird this entire situation is.

"so, uh-" joel says, cos now he's somehow become the leader of the conversation, "i take it i've interrupted, so let me get out of your hair. and. i'm gonna go crash in sarah's bedroom, tommy, so i'll... be. at the otherendofthehallway"

you had never seen joel miller so awkward and flustered and you can't help but giggle a little, and joel narrows his eyes at you, but then he cracks a smile, too, and then the three of you are laughing so hard you have to wipe a tear from your eye.

you fall into a silence again, but it's not uncomfortable this time. you need a moment to yourself, though. among other things, if you could tell your nineteen year old self that you're at the home of joel miller, after making out with his incredibly hot brother, and now you're just sitting around with them, you'd be baffled.

"mind if i grab a glass of water?" you ask, and tommy stands to get you one, but you stop him. "don't worry, i've got it. are the ones on the dish rack alright? do you boys have beer? can i grab anything for you?"

"thanks, sweetheart," tommy calls, "there's a pitcher for water in the fridge, and we'd both take a beer. help yourself to one too, if ya like."

you fill up your glass full of water, pop a bottle opener into your pocket, and grab three bottles of beer by their necks in your spare hand. you place them down on the coffee table and open each bottle but take a big gulp of your water before you start on your beer.

when you look up, tommy and joel are communicating in what you can only assume is a sibling-specific language of small head shakes and narrowed eyes, and then finally a brief, firm, synchronized nod.

they both turn to face you, and there's a bit of a weird energy but you're not not into it.

"what's up?" you ask, and tommy looks at joel, and joel nods, and then tommy looks back at you.

"now-" tommy starts

joel cuts him off before he can say anything of substance-- "and we don't want you to feel pressured, sweetheart, the choice is yours, and if you'd like- either or both of us to fuck off, just say the word, yeah?"

you nod slowly.

"but we have a proposition for you, honey," tommy finishes.

you look between them. they're both standing sitting there, a bit bashful, and it's fuckin endearing. two men that you'd use confidence as a descriptor for each of them. very different siblings, both in looks and in personality, but their eyes are the same and you can see a delicious darkness burning in each.

"how would ya like to fuck us both?" tommy asks, and your heart skips a beat.

they don't need to ask you twice. you do your best to hold back your grin.

"fuck yes".

[candyredmusings]

Bioshock Splicer Starters

Assortment of dialogue taken from the a from two types of Splicers in the first Bioshock game; Baby Jane and the Breadwinner

Other Bioshock Splicer starters: TBA [Dr. Grossman & Lady Smith] [Pigskin & Rosebud] [Toasty & Waders]

Baby Jane

Get away from my face! Not on my face!"

"Oh! Oh, God damn it!"

"Look at yourself! And you would do it too!"

"Talentless?! BORING?!"

"You don't deserve this!"

"I'm a star, not you!"

"You're jealous, jealous!"

"Why did you cut me?! Why?!"

"You did this to me! You!"

"I deserve it, you fuck!"

"Give me the part, you bastard!"

"Off. My. Stage! GET OFF!"

"Stop ogling me!"

"You're making me lose my place! STOP IT!"

"No, it's not perfect, AGAIN!"

"He's standing in the wrong place!"

"Get your FAT. HANDS. AWAY FROM ME!"

"Just say something, goddammit!"

"What's that? Is it him?!"

"I smell something nasty."

"Is that someone naughty?"

"Honey? Is that you…?"

"I heard that!"

"It hurts, it hurts…"

"Why did you…?"

"I'm sorry… We can do it together!"

"DARLING! I'M HOME EARLY!"

"I don't- I don't wanna- I don't wanna hear this… I- [Whimpering] I don't want to hear this…"

"Pretend you're not interested. They like that."

"Have it your way, you sleaze!"

"Well, that was good drama."

"Get a girl all bothered… for NOTHIN'!"

"That gets a girl's blood flowing."

"I'll be better next time! Please?! Don't go!"

"When we do meet, it's gonna be so nasty!"

"He's gone! They always leave…"

"When I murder you I'm gonna put your body in a dress!"

"My god, there's so much blood!"

"Aw, Jesus, what did you do to me?!"

"I'm NOT. DEALING WITH THIS!"

"No… No No No. Wha- What's- What's that? Oh, no no, no…"

"In the theater, a woman gets used to attention."

"She was up for the part as well, but then they found her in a salt pond."

"I was gonna be famous… now look at this dump!"

"Who needs to make it on Broadway? When you can make it here."

"What's the matter with me…? I'm pretty enough!"

"Hey fella'! Don't 'cha wanna take a walk with me?"

"Come on, baby! You told me you was gonna take care of me! Were you lying…?"

"I used to be beautiful. What happened to me?!"

"Why are you making this so hard for me?!"

"C'mere and say that to my face, you slimey bastard!"

"You wanna play with me?"

"Hello? Did you come to talk to me?"

"I can be nice if I want to…"

"Next time, work on your timing."

"Oh, and we were just getting to the best bit!"

"Tell me you love me! Go on, say it!"

"Just pretend, you imbecile!"

"You ruined me!"

"No one touches me! No one!"

"You won't touch me again!"

"Someone shou- should do this for me, someone should be doing this for me!"

Breadwinner

"Get out of my territory!"

"Amateur! Fuckin' amateur!"

"I'm top dog, you shit!"

"GET OUTA MY FUCKIN' OFFICE!"

"You come to my town?! To MY TOWN?!"

"You're a nobody! Nobody!"

"Who the hell is that?"

"Yeah? Well, you're fired! Ya got that?"

"I was right, I tell ya. I was right, god damn it."

"Come on. Gimme a break!"

"Come on. Just let me explain, will ya?"

 "I'm too busy for this shit."

"Waste of my goddamn time."

"This isn't makin' me time OR money!"

"Goddammit, I'm bleeding!"

"Ahh. Ahh yeah, finally some service! Woo!"

"What happened to this thing?"

"Ha, it's my lucky day!"

"She should not have come here."

"Ah, a man can start a business down here, yeah. Now now, it's- it's not too late. I'll get to it."

"It's just a bad quarter. Naw, that's all. Yeah, market'll come back, huh? Yeah! Everything'll be fine. Yeah, it'll all be fine… Augh."

"I just gotta wait out the down cycle. I'm a success… I'm a fuckin' success!"

"I ain't afraid of failure… cause I ain'ts gonna fail!"

"These assholes don't get it. I'm a winner!"

"Came here to get rich… ain't gonna leave 'till I do!"

"Came down here with a dream… That dream's gonna happen."

"Aw, come on… they're gonna kill me if I lose you!"

"That's it? We're done?"

"You think that I'm dumb? Sure, sure, why not? You keep on thinkin' that."

"You think I wouldn't notice if you just waltzed in here? Huh?"

"I'll tell you what: I'll pay you to stay alive next time. How's that for a deal, you shit head."

"I earned this! Me!"

"You give it to me, you hear?"

"Just open your mouth."

"Ah, whose fault is this?"

"Look at this dump! Nothing left but nothing!"

[highinmiamiii]

KNOW IT DONT COME IN A SHOT GLASS PART2

18+ billy butcher x supe!reader

author’s note: hello my fellow freaky weird girls this is pretty nasty, i hope u all enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it. as i mentioned before this is probably my first time trying to write any kind of fic since like middle school. this is slightly inspired by butcher and maeve scene in s3, but with reader, and better because it’s inspired by Rehab by Amy Winehouse ;)

(CW: mentions of addiction, alcohol relapse, breaking sobriety, smut, PIV, unprotected PIV, f!receiving oral, breeding if u squint, language)

pls lmk if i missed anything

The next thing you knew, you’re sprawled out woozily on the couch, having taken off your sweater leaving you in your tight-fitted black tank top, 4 drinks deep into the horrible fucking idea that was breaking your sobriety with Billy Butcher.

Butcher leans against the couch, a glass of the authentic Russian vodka he had brought back from their mission to find Soldier Boy held between his fingers while he twirls the drink in it, looking intensely at it. Even though this isn’t the first time you’re helping Butcher and his team, you still haven't gained Butcher's complete trust. At least half an hour has passed with the both of you drinking, barely even speaking before Butcher had gone on a rant about supes and why they were ‘The World’s Greatest Cunts’. “I done it all…Coke, Smack, Meth, E…nothin’ quite like this..” Butcher says, analyzing the small tube of V

“Jeez-“ You say huffing at his admission to having done pretty much every drug you’d ever heard of. Butcher sighs and runs his hands over his face, leaning back on the couch as he says “Nobody should have that kind of power. Not even me. Every single one of them has to go, including you" He leans in closer to you, his eyes never leaving the small tube of V. "But I'll be damned if I let someone like you slip through my fingers." His voice is low and dangerous, hinting at the thoughts swirling around in his mind as his eyes flick up and down your body.

You furrow your eyebrows, taking a swig from your glass as you try to decipher what the hell that was supposed to mean. You chuckle softly “You’re an asshole, I’m going out of my way and risking my life to help you, but you really just want me gone too” You roll your eyes and cross one of your legs over the other sinking further back into the couch. “I respect it, Really, your eyes are on the prize, I get it.” You say teasingly before taking another sip from your glass and sliding it across the coffee table. His voice is rough and serious as he looks at you directly, he leaves his glass on the table after finishing the last drop that was left in it. leaning forward and resting my arms on my legs as i let out a deep sigh. there’s a beat before i slowly tilt my head up towards Butcher as i look into his eyes deeply. "What I want and what's right aren't always the same thing," he says, his gaze unwavering. He leans in even closer to you, close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin. "You're clever, I'll give you that.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean, Butcher?” You roll your eyes, once again, your vision a little fuzzy and your thoughts a little cloudly now. Butcher tsks and tilts his head over to you “Means that you, with your little superhero complex and your 'doing what's right' attitude, could be a liability. But... at the same time, you're the only one who seems to see beyond the surface of all this fuckin’ blimey shite." he says, his voice low and husky. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing against your thigh, sending shivers down your spine. "You drive me mad, woman.” He says with his lips slightly parted, eyes wide as he looks into your eyes “But that doesn't change my mission." Butcher clears his throat and reaches for the glass on the table, to pour himself another glass.

Your eyes search around his face, taking in those pouty parted lips, the scruffy, slightly greying beard and his wide glassy eyes, you take a deep breath and slowly lean closer before grabbing his entire face and breaking the distance between the two of you as your lips smash together in a searing kiss, Butcher let’s out a muffled protest. A flicker of surprise flashes across his face, quickly replaced by a scalding intensity as he deepens the kiss, his hand snaking around your waist.

A few seconds go by before he pulls away and shakes his head, looking down before looking up into your eyes and standing up, the look behind his eyes showing a thousand words…or rather, these specific ones:

‘What the fuck was that??????’

You scoff in annoyance and sit up, running your hands over your thighs before getting up off the couch and looking at him. You cross your arms over your chest and avert your gaze to the side “What? Still think you’re too good for me, s’that it?” You say, taking a few steps closer to him, looking up at his face. You raise an eyebrow, that was the easiest way to convince Butcher to do just about anything, any self-loathing asshole for that matter. Make it seem like there is no lower low.

A flash of annoyance flickers in his eyes, but then he sees right through your little game. With a smirk playing on his lips, he steps closer to you, towering over you. He looks down at you with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Too good for you? Darling, I'm not the one playing dress-up in some fantasy world." He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You laugh in his face “That’s real fuckin’ rich, isn’t it? Considering I didn’t have a choice to be like this, you’re the one fuckin’ playing fantasy. You live it for what, 24 Hours? You’ll never fucking know what it’s like, Butcher.” You slowly get more riled up as the rant progresses, backing him up into a wall until your forearm is just under his neck. Pinning him up against the wall, he was strong of course, but no match for a supe, especially as wasted as he was right now.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but the flash of annoyance quickly returns. He smirks again, his hands coming up to grab onto your forearm. "You're right, darlin'. I'll never know what it's like to be a fucking sick ultra-cunt supe freak” He smirks, fucking smirks like the smug cocky bastard he is, knowing he’s just adding insult to injury right now.

You squint, your eyebrows knit together in frustration as you sneer at him, pushing back even harder now. You use most of your force now as he strains under you, holding him down effortlessly with your strength.

“Fuck. You.” You whisper into his ear slowly enunciating each and every syllable. His smirk fades, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. He tries to push back, but it's a futile effort against your superior strength. "Jesus-alright, alright... I get it," he says, his voice strained, breath hot against your ear. His body tenses under yours, a spark of defiance flickering in his eyes. The smug look on his face returns, but his eyes are still a little wide with caution. "You’re a big fucking superhero. Congratulations. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo, sweetheart." He sneers again, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He tries to push off from the wall, but you don't budge an inch. "Let go of me, damn it.” he says.

But even as he struggles, a thrill runs through him, his cock slightly kicking up in the confines of the rough denim on his body. You surrender, letting your arm fall, but your knee is now beginning to nudge just between his legs. "oi, easy there, love," he says through a hiss as your knee nudges into the now sensitive, growing bulge in his jeans. "You don't want to start something you can't fucking finish." Yet his words falter as he watches your knee press tighter against the growing bulge in his pants, his breath catching. He swallows hard as his back meets the cool bricks once more, unable to break free from the intensity in your eyes, and the persistent nudge of your knee into his growing hardness. He clears his throat and tries to maintain some semblance of control. Trying to keep his voice steady even as his heart pounds in his chest and you invade his personal space again, he stammers, eyes darting between yours.

His back is now fully against the wall, your knee remaining unmoving between his legs as he starts to squirm. You reach out and grab his face with one hand, leaning in and practically devouring his mouth with a fervor and hunger that was difficult to understand for yourself. He was such a piece of shit, what the hell were you doing? Butcher's initial instinct is to push you away, but he finds himself caught in that fiery gaze and the taste of your lips. He responds eagerly, his hand reaching out to grip your hip possessively. The irony of this moment does not escape him, but neither does it stop him. The kiss is sloppy and messy, desperate and breathy before you let your gaurd down, your strength faltering in hopes that butcher will take some control here as you sigh breathily into his open mouth. Sensing your surrender, his ego swells. His free hand slides up from your hip to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepens the kiss.

His tongue explores your mouth boldly, hungrily; it's been a long time since someone has challenged him like this. Butcher grips your waist tightly and flips you both over roughly so that now your back is against the wall and he’s the one pushed up against you. He desperately attacks your neck with his mouth, suckling and biting all over your collarbone. You gasp softly at the searing feeling of his lips devouring your skin like he’d never seen a woman in his damn life. His hand sneaks down your back onto the swell of your ass, giving it a tight, rough squeeze as your hand tangles itself in his hair, giving it a sharp tug before pushing him down onto his knees in front of you roughly. Butcher groans into your neck, the sound muffled and needy as you pull his hair, he drops to his knees without hesitation, his hands immediately going for the waistband of your pants. He attempts to yank them down in one go and growls in frustration when they won’t budge, his big clumsy thick hands struggling to get the button open. You snicker under your breath softly, looking down at him as he struggles “Really?” Butcher stops his struggling and tilts his head back to look up at you, his light eyes shining with a mixture of annoyance and pure unfiltered lust. He smirks ear-to-ear before reaching up and yanking the button of your jeans off, the fabric ripping easily under the force of his strong hands.

You gasp, biting your lip to stifle a chuckle as you look down at him, lips parted and eyes wide in shock “Did you just fucking rip my jeans-“ “-And now they're coming off," he finishes gruffly, his hands gripping the waistband of your now-open pants and dragging them down your legs, taking your sheer black lace underwear with them. He leans forward and nuzzles his face into your thighs, inhaling deeply before looking up at you from between your legs. You smirk “you’re a fucking pussy, y’know, for someone who advertises himself as some hard ruthless badass- psssh, i mean, on your fucking knees in front of me, between a supes thighs, really? s’pretty pathetic” You scoff and grip the back of his hair tightly once more.

He growls in frustration at your words, his eyes flashing with anger as he grips the backs of your thighs and yanks you forward, forcing you to straddle his face.

He buries his face in your center, his tongue darting out to taste you. He groans in pleasure, the sound vibrating through you as he begins to devour you eagerly. He laps at your folds, his tongue sliding through your slickness and tasting every inch of you. He sucks on your clit, drawing it between his lips and teasing it with the tip of his tongue before plunging his tongue deep inside of you. You gasp, letting go of his hair as he has your thighs around his head. You throw your head back in a breathy sigh as he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before with his tongue “O-oh my god..” You roll your hips slightly, basically riding his fucking face for a second. His cock is almost leaking through his jeans when he feels you do that. The feel of your hips grinding down on his face is enough to make him lose control. He grips your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he eats you out with wild abandon. He growls around your pussy, the vibrations making you tremble. He continues to feast on you, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he holds you in place. His arousal is palpable, the thick bulge of his cock straining against the denim as he loses himself in your taste.

Your legs are shivering at this point, hair is sticking to your face with a sheen of sweat over your body “B-butcher-“ You moan sweetly, rolling your hips once more and burying your hand in his hair again. The feeling of his beard scratching between your thighs was enough to make your mind go numb. The fact that you were both the drunkest you’d ever been for a period of time was of course, not helping. Everything felt so fucking good, it was like you were buzzing with pleasure everywhere Butcher touched you. The bruising grip of his finger on your ass and thighs, the smooth silky, yet rough glide of his tongue through your slick folds and in and out of your tight creamy cunt. He groans into you, the vibrations only adding to the symphony of sensations assaulting your body. His grip on your thigh tightens, pulling you impossibly closer as he suckles and flicks his tongue rapidly at your clit, bringing you right to the edge. “Jes-Jesus Christ-“ Your legs are trembling and your entire body is on fire, the pleasure is so fucking intense, you’re so close, everything is going right. Until Butcher stops. He fucking stops. He pulls away, leaving you aching and empty, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. “Not so fast, luv. Not bloody done ‘ere yet" He rises to his feet, his erection straining against his jeans. You look at him in complete disbelief and rage “Are you- Are you fucking kidding me?? I was about to-“ You sneer at him and grab him by his ridiculous fucking Hawaiian shirt

He doesn't flinch under your grip, meeting your anger with a cold, calculating gaze. "I know exactly what you were about to, love. And trust me, it ain’t happenin’ till I bloody say so." He plucks your hands off his shirt, his touch rough and possessive. God he was so fucking annoying. “You’re so fucking annoying.” you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah? s’that right, darling?” His hand moves a stray hair out of your face before picking you up and carrying you over to a nearby desk, he sits you up on the edge, moving whatever paperwork was there to the side and beginning to unbutton his shirt. “Fuck you, I’m not waiting.” You sneer, quickly sliding your arm across the desk and wiping every last paper, trinket, file, ashtray etc. off the desk and onto the floor. You sit up and grab butcher by the shirt again, flipping you both over and pushing him down so he’s laying down with his back against the desk. You pop the buttons of his shirt off by ripping it open for a little bit of payback for your jeans. You straddle his waist, huffing and panting heavily as you look down at him before continuing to make out with him, just this time as you gently grind up against his crotch. He moans into your mouth as you grind against him, the friction of your wet heat against his erection through his jeans almost unbearable. His hands find your hips, gripping tight as he breaks the kiss, gasping for air. "Fuuuck, you're a feisty one, aint ya?” You reach for his belt, trying to unbuckle his while continuing to grind down on him and make out with him. He groans as you unbuckle his belt, her eyes darkening with desire. He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. "Gonna let me feel that tight super-cunt, eh?" he growls, nipping at your bottom lip. You scoff “Ew- what the fuck- don’t- don’t call it that-“

You snicker as you unbutton his dark jeans and tug them down his thighs, trying to catch your breath before continuing further.

He grunts, his cock springing free as you lower his navy boxers. It's so incredibly hard and thick, a vein that you almost think you can see throbbing running down the thick shaft, the tip already glistening with precum. "What do you want me to call it then, love? Your pretty little pussy?"

You shake your head no and make a disgusted face.

He smirks, his eyes roving over your body hungrily. "Your delectable, succulent, irresistible cunt?" He reaches up to cup your breast, thumb teasing the hardened nipple through your top. "Or maybe your divine, heavenly, fuck-tight pussy?"

“Okay, okay! stop, please. i’m begging you. let’s just stop referring to it all together” You bury your head in your hands, slightly snickering but also absolutely appalled at the strange

pussy-naming creativity of William Butcher. He laughs, ruffling your hair before pulling your hands away from your face. He chuckles, his hand moving from your breast to your waist. He pulls you closer, nuzzling your neck. "Alright, love. No more pussy talk." He nips at your earlobe, then starts trailing kisses down your neck and shoulder. You reach for his leaking, rock-hard, veiny, thick cock, running your thumb over the tip ever so gently. He shudders, his hips bucking slightly as your thumb teases the sensitive head. A low, rumbling moan escapes him. "Christ, that feels good." He reaches for your hand, guiding it to stroke him fully, his length pulsing in your grip. You give the thick pulsing shaft a soft squeeze with each pump of your fist, your thumb continuing to brush his sensitive leaking tip. You bite your lip looking down at him as you continue to pump his cock. He throws his head back, eyes clenched shut, his teeth gritted as he groans deeply. His eyes snap open, meeting yours with a heated gaze. He reaches up, grabbing your wrist to still your hand around his cock. "Look at me," he commands, his voice low and rough. He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your knuckles. “I-I want it. Please.” you whisper. “Want what, love?” Butcher tilts his head acting clueless as he runs his hands up and down your waist, admiring every inch of your body. “Now is not the fucking time to act stupid if your cock isn’t inside of me in the next two minutes i swear to god Butc-“ the wind is smacked out of your lungs as he sheaths into your tight cunt with one sudden thrust, you yelp almost silently as you look down at him your lips parted in a pout and brows knitted together in a mixture of pain and pleasure. His face contorts with pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt, his thick, calloused hands gripping your hips possessively "Ah, there it is," he growls, his voice strained as he holds still, buried to the hilt inside you. "Look at you, taking my cock so deep." He leans in, nipping at your lower lip. "You're so bloody tight, love.” Your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden as you bury your head in his neck letting out a soft quiet muffled whimper, the tip of him was nudging against that spot inside you that made your eyes roll back so deliciously. It was rare guys ever even managed to hit that spot one during sex for you, Butcher had barely just slipped in and he was already pushing so tight up against it that you were out of breath. "Fuck, you're lovely," he groans, feeling your walls quiver and flutter around his cock. He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you down harder onto him as he begins to rock his hips up in a slow rhythm. "Look at me, love.” You’re panting heavily as your already fucked out gaze meets his gorgeous devilishly handsome eyes “Mmmh, p-please” You throw your head back as he fucks up into you, even though you were on top, if you even tried to move right now you would probably collapse from how good this felt, how fucking full he was making you feel. "You want me to fuck you harder, is that it?" he growls, his voice rumbling against your chest as he picks up the pace. You whine “Fuck..No-Ye- I-“ You wrap your arms around his bare back thrusting your hips up to meet his thrusts as you whimper “Butcher- Jesus- I- fuck..” The pleasure thrumming through your body is so fucking intense, he was so so so deep, so thick, filling you to the very brim you felt like you were out of breath more and more with each thrust. Digging your nails into the skin of his back and scratching at it as you begin to slowly bounce your hips on his cock. "Ah fuck," he grunts, feeling your nails dig into his flesh, the pain only spurring him on further. He bucks his hips up into you roughly, matching the bounce of your hips. The filthy sound of your skin, slapping against each other fills the room, mixing with the sweet sounds of pleasure spilling from your lips that was beginning to drive Billy to absolute madness.

"You're driving me fucking crazy, you know that?" he pants, his voice strained as he pushes harder into you. His fingers dig into your hips, gripping tightly as he tries to keep himself from losing control completely.

“I-I’m close Butcher-“ You gasp out softly, gripping his shoulder tighter, your nails leaving little red crescent mark dents in his back. "Bloody hell, you better not come until I tell you to," he hisses, his cock twitching inside you. "I'm not done with you yet, love." He grips your hips harder, his fingers bruising as he pounds into you with renewed vigor. You whine throwing your head back “Mmmmmh- P-please…why..” "Because I say so, that's why," he grunts, his face contorted in a mask of pleasure and exertion. "You'll do as I say when we're like this, you hear me?"

"Oi, I said, do ya fuckin’ hear me" he says, his voice strained. He watches as your breasts bounce with each movement, the sight eliciting a primal instinct within him. You nod softly biting your lip as your panting grows heavier “Please…mmphh…Butcher” you sigh.

"Christ, you're a sight for sore eyes," he grunts, leaning forward to take one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. You groan in frustration and pleasure, so desperate to finish, and so sick of his bullshit teasing. Your hand snakes between both of your bodies, reaching between your legs as you dip your fingers into your slick, puffy folds, trying to get any sort of friction against your throbbing delicate clit. Butcher smirks at your frustration, raising an eyebrow. He grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from your clit and holding it above your head. "I told you, I'm in charge here." You pout, grinding your hips down in a desperate attempt to get a sliver of friction back where you needed it most “Fuck you” You sneer “Stop. I-I needa cum Butcher please” You whine, pouting and looking up at him with those wide doe eyes. "What's the magic word?" he teases, his voice low and sultry.

It’s moments like these that make you want to slap the smug ridiculous fucking accent right out of him. You squint at him, grinding your teeth together. His grin doesn't falter as he leans down to whisper in your ear. "Come on then, y’can have what you want...when you say please." He punctuates each word with a gentle bite, his stubble scratching against your cheek. Your hands make their way back up to his hair, giving it a gentle pull before moaning a desperate “Please” into his mouth, you kiss him hungrily, trying to fight his grip stilling your hips from moving up and down. He smirks against your lips at the sound of that single word, pleased with your desperation. Butcher loosens his grip slightly but doesn't let go completely - just enough to let your hips squirm and move in small motions against him. Butcher's thumb finds your swollen clit, circling it slowly as you whimper and writhe beneath him. He groans at the sensation of your wet heat, the way your body yields to his touch. "Christ, you're soaked," he mutters, rubbing your clit with increasing pressure. Butcher's cock continues to slip and slide inside you, stretching your entrance before plunging deep and pulling all the way back out again. His wrist twists, pointer and middle finger rubbing against your swollen clit in a come-hither motion that has you gasping and crying out. Letting out a ‘humph’, Butcher thrusts into you harder, he can feel your muscles tightening around him, your breath hitching as you edge closer and closer to release. "Come on, love," He continues to pound into you with increasing intensity, his fingers never leaving your clit, rubbing and circling in a maddening rhythm that has your legs giving out deeming you unable to continue riding him, and your back arching. He leans down to bite and suck at your neck as he fucks up into you harder, his fingers pinching and rolling your clit in time with his deep thrusts, the combination of the dirty talk, the bite of pain and pleasure, the slick friction of your slick warm cunt clenching around his cock and pulling him in deeper, all building to a cacophony of your whimpers and soft moans muffled into his neck, combined with his deep groans and shaky breaths. You were both just about to fucking explode with pleasure as your legs trembled insistently, your walls clamping around him tightly, practically choking his poor cock. "Blimey... that's it... fucking squeeze my cock with that sweet cunt of yours," He grunts, his lips finding yours in a bruising, desperate kiss. His hips buck wildly against yours, fucking deeper into you as he chases his climax. “A-alright then, Doll- come on- I’m gonna-“ He taps your ass gently trying to signal for you to get off of him before he came. You bite your lip and smirk planting your hand on his chest for leverage before taking a deep breath and starting to bounce up and down once again. His hands slide up your waist trying to still your movements “Y’little fuckin’ brat…” He groans, gripping your hips tightly as you continue to bounce on his cock. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries to hold off his orgasm, but he’s helpless under you.

You throw your head back, gripping his shoulder tightly and digging your nails into it as your climax approaches, your tight slick walls fluttering around him. The feeling almost suffocating Butcher as you continue to ride him with intense fervor, chasing your orgasm. Your tits are bouncing wildly as your face contorts into a loud whimpered moan of his name, your pussy squeezing him in so tight as you cream around him, gasping for air as your legs shiver, your entire body on fire that it sets off his own orgasm.

With a final deep thrust, his cock buried to the hilt inside your throbbing pussy, he explodes. His orgasm ripping through him with a roar. Pumping the white-hot spurts of his cum into you as he fills you up, painting your inner walls with a reckless abandon. His whole body shudders and trembles with the force of his orgasm, leaving him breathless. He opens his eyes to look at you, admiration shining in their depths. You desperately try to catch your breath, your brain slightly fuzzy of the feeling of his sticky spend dripping out of you right now. You look into his eyes and immediately feel your cheeks begin to flush in a little bit of post orgasm clarity. He watches you, his chest still heaving as he tries to catch his breath. The intensity of your orgasm was almost overwhelming, and he grins at you as he sees the slight dazed look in your eyes. "Fuckin' hell, you're incredible."

He runs his hand down your bare arm looking into your face as his other hand slides down your waist, helping you up off his cock. You bite your lip softly and cross your arms over your chest. He keeps his hand on your waist, guiding you off of him gently as he props himself up on his elbow. His other hand gently trails down your arm, feeling the goosebumps forming under his fingers. You look around the room, spotting your panties on the floor, picking them up and slipping your legs back into them as you throw your tank top back over your torso. You walk over to the couch again, settling into it “Got a cig?” You ask. He watches you as you slip back into your panties and throw on your tank top. The way your breasts move under the fabric as you walk across the room is mesmerizing. When you ask for a cigarette, he grins and fumbles through his pockets before sighing deeply as he feels an empty box “Fucking bollocks…I got bugger-all, fresh out, doll” He runs his fingers through his hair before picking up his boxers and stepping back into them “You wouldn’t mind coming with me to nick a pack, eh?” He looks you up and down before continuing looking around the room for the rest of his clothes. You sit up and chuckle

“Well- I don’t typically go to the store in my underwear, If only I had pants to wear… Oh, that’s right.” You say, tone dripping with sarcasm and bitterness at the loss of your favorite pair of jeans.

[necrotic-nephilim]

Give me your most controversial dc opinions!!!

HA YES GLADLY I WOULD LOVE TO (added a read more because i had a lot of words oopsie)

The Titans Tower Incident was in character for Jason Todd. at worst, it's a *bit* over-dramatic and a little cringey, but if you consider his actions, his motivations, and what he *actually* does, i honestly don't think it's OOC for him. he's just kind of a dramatic asshole in that era and i stand by that comic. the issue isn't the comic itself, it's how people interpret it.

i think the DC fandom, specifically the Batfamily fandom, really likes to claim to be progressive for brownie points, but then will have the one token woman that everyone decides is acceptable to hate. like, it's one thing if you dislike Carrie Kelley, i get it. Frank Miller isn't a great writer of women and she can be a lack of a character in the original Dark Knight Returns. but if you go out of your way making constant edits and posts shitting on her, it's *weird*. especially when most of the people shitting on her haven't even consumed her source, and their reasons for disliking her can apply to any other Robin, especially Tim. but as long as you put say, Steph or Cass on a pedestal, you can talk on and on about how you want to kill Carrie for the crime of existing. it feels like acceptable misogyny. i also think this extends to writers. if you put say, Gail Simone on a pedestal, you're free to blame everything under the sun on Devin Grayson. (to be clear i think you can and should hate Devin Grayson for a lot of things, but most rumors about her are untrue and if you look at every badly written comic and go "sounds like something Devin Grayson would write" that's really weird bc everything she's done, men like Chuck Dixon, Tom King, Tom Taylor, Marv Wolfman, etc have done in tenfold.) like, misogyny = bad unless it's That One Woman We've All Agreed To Hate. it's weird and i keep noticing it. and no one seems to unpack it. (i mostly see this on TikTok, not Tumblr tbf)

i don't care if you ship BruDick or not, but it's not weird for canon content to imply or state Dick had a crush on Bruce when he was first taken in. even in canon where Dick sees Bruce as a "father figure" in the most generous sense, that bond took years to build and when Dick was freshly orphaned, he *had* the memory of loving parents and didn't want Bruce to fill that role. you don't have to ship BruDick, you don't even have to like batcest, but if you're vitriolic toward just the idea that "hey maybe a young kid on the cusp of puberty might have some weird feelings to work out about the canonically very attractive mysterious playboy who took him in before seeing him as family because that bond took years to build" is nasty and terrible and wrong to you, you don't like the Batfamily, you just like the nuclear "neat" version of it in your head

the Batfamily characters are *all* too hypercompetent. like all of them are just *too* good at what they do that in order to write them in interesting arcs together, you have to willingly make some of them OOC in order to not immediately have the Problem wrapped up. i get it, Bruce is the greatest detective, Tim is wicked smart, Jason's a heavy hitting brawler, but we've reached a point where all of these characters have so many buffs they're not *fun* anymore. especially not in a group setting where you need to justify them needing each other's help. and even worse-so when they interact outside of the Gotham, you end up making every non-Batfam character seem useless just to make the Batfamily look cool. it's exhausting. i want to see these characters lose fights, look stupid, and not be the best for once. they're all getting so good they're just kind of. boring. which is the worst sin for a character, IMO.

i think we should go like. a good year of all Justice League-related teams not having a single Bat on the roster. just as a cleanse so *someone else* can shine. i get why non-Batfam DC fans are sick of the Batfamily bc jesus. it's oversaturation of the market.

power scaling "who would win" fights are fucking boring and i don't care. that's the least interesting thing about the fandom. you're missing the point of all of these characters if you only care about who could win a brawl. also it's just a stupid debate because the answer will *always* be: whoever the author of the comic wants to win.

the Batfamily is too damn big. i love every single one of them do not get me wrong. i'd die for the little niche characters who are likely never going to be relevant again like Julia Pennyworth or Kate Spencer. but it's too fucking big at this point. it's insisted to us that these characters are family but like. half of them have barely existed on the same page together more than once. it's ridiculous and it cannot sustain itself. none of these characters are allowed proper shine because they'll just get dropped for the next new shiny character. i think Maps Mizoguchi is a cool lil lady, but i know in my soul in like. three years she will fade into comics limbo and we'll have a new shiny character to fawn over. it's a brutal cycle bc DC doesn't know how to give any of these characters follow through, just wants to wave around cool new concepts.

both Under The Red Hood and Death In The Family are mediocre adaptations and strip the most important emotional elements of Jason's story from the plot. you can't properly adapt Jason's death if you leave his mother out of it. like they're phenomenal movies as their own pieces of media, but they lack the necessary emotional weight for Jason.

on the note of adaptations: the Young Justice cartoon is i think the best case study of "how do you react to a piece of media that's amazing on it's own, but is a fucking horrible adaptation?" because like, i can't discredit it. it's a good show. but it's a bad adaptation and i think people using it as an entry point for DC can make their views of certain characters and teams *very* warped. the Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey movie falls into a similar vein for me. if that movie was it's own thing with original characters, it'd likely be a top five movie for me. but because it's *such a fucking bad adaptation* i can't help but hate it for brutalizing the characters and the general concept of the BoP. it should've been a Gotham Sirens movie, and Young Justice should've been a Teen Titans show. and sure, adaptations don't owe us accuracy, but they have negative effects on the comics when they gain popularity. so i struggle to like Young Justice bc of how badly it's affected certain characters.

also on the note of adaptations: the best adaptation of how comic media operates is the Sandman tv show. adapting comics to tv shows or movies is difficult bc comic arcs don't operate the way show/movie arcs do, but the Sandman show proves it's absolutely doable to adapt the storytelling style while still making the typical adjustments you need for an adaptation.

DC needs more Deaf representation. in most areas, DC either matches Marvel or outperforms Marvel with representation of marginalized identities, but it's fucking tragic we have no deal Deaf rep in DC whereas Marvel has quite a few to pick from. this one is personal bc i'm Deaf but it does fuck me up the only option we have is a side character from Tim Drake: Robin who doesn't appear anywhere else and isn't a great character overall. DC i'm in your walls.

on the note of representation, if i see one more person say Titans had "perfect casting" while in the same breath admitting Dick was whitewashed, you are weird and i dislike you. it's really fucking weird that whitewashing is permissable to this fandom if the actor cast/fancast is hot. Dick should've been a Roma actor. Damian should not be fancast as a white actor. it's the bare minimum.

i have so many more but i will end with this especially controversial one: Dan Mora's art is overhyped. that man has the worst same face syndrome i've ever seen and i will not lie half the time i can't tell which Robin he's drawing. his art is technically gorgeous and it's so pretty to look at, but begging for every comic series to be drawn by him is boring and terrible. the art style of a comic reflects it's genre. wanting all comic art to look like Dan Mora's art is sucking the style out of comics. i miss art styles like Todd Nauck's that clearly reflected the genre of the comic.

i lied i have one more i'm REALLY passionate about: Tim's vigilante name after Red Robin should not be bird-themed. naming him Sparrow or Cardinal is *just* as bad as naming him Red Robin longterm. they're *just* as derivative and they *sound* cool but don't hold any real unique identity for Tim outside of Robin. like it baffles me we all agree he needs to move on from Robin and then decided "let's name him Robin Lite". if he has a bird name, it should be Jackdaw so at the very least, he's not red anymore. and Jackdaw could be a fun callback to Drake, in that it uses part of Tim's real name (his middle name, Jackson) while standing out a bit. but if i really had creative control i'd give him a completely unique name. if it has to be Batfamily related, Gray Ghost. but in my head, his name should be Conspiracy. i could write a lengthy meta on why and tbh it is based in my love for the Question and wanting Tim to have a similar detective noir-esque gritty solo, but i genuinely don't think he should be Cardinal or Sparrow. those names only continue his identity issues of being trapped as either Robin or a Robin knockoff.

[reallyromealone]

A request from patreon

Derek and Spencer were surprised that they were doing Intel gathering only a town off from spencers but didn't think to much of it as they walked into a small diner with a few customers scattered around and an older woman refilling sugar containers behind the counter "excuse me" Derek said smoothly as the woman looked up with a bored expression, analyzing both men as they held up their badges "you have a moment?"

The men asked her some questions, the woman answering to the best of her abilities before pausing and looked at Spencer almost confused before speaking "you look familiar" she said as if trying to remember something "whats your name?"

"Spencer Reid" Spencer said awkwardly, he had never been to this diner so he was a tad bit confused, maybe she saw him on tv from a case or something.

It was almost like a lightbulb flashed over her head "you're that kids dad!" She said almost proud of her realization and Spencer looked confused as he spoke "I'm sorry what?"

"Yeah that one kid whose always hanging here, orders off the breakfast menu and god he puts an insane amount of whipped cream on things"

Yup.

That was his kid alright.

"He's always hanging with with this kid whose dad's real bad news, if you want answers you may wanna talk to them but be warned rumor has it they got into a real nasty fight with some asshole with a knife"

And like that, Spencer was out of that diner dragging Morgan with him "ohoo, that kid is in shiiit!" Morgan said as Spencer began calling his kid frantically.

(Name) hissed as he looked over himself, his friend doing the same as they hid in an alleyway "I can't believe you took him down" he said as he held his hoodie to his nose "for a pacifist, you sure know how to throw a punch"

(Name) checked his phone and visibly paled at the missed calls and texts "oh fuck..."

Spencer and Derek walked to the alleyway after Penelope pinpointed the teens exact location (Spencer was thankful he put a tracker in his kids phone, his job made him justifiably paranoid) to see his kid bloodied and bruised and the other with what looked to be a black eye and broken nose.

"(Name)?!" Spencer said panicked rushing to his kid "jesus Christ, what happened?!" Morgans cop voice slipped out as the teens jolted slightly "I'm calling an ambulance then you boys are gonna answer some questions"

After the ambulance came and the boys were cleaned up, Spencer and Derek took them off to the BAU for questioning.

(Name) looked at his Aunt AJ, the blonde looking at the teen pointedly "you're lucky your dad felt he was to close to ask questions"

"Now spill"

(Name) explained the situation that happened and how the two teens like going to that specific diner because the lady there adds chocolate chips to their pancakes for them and how when they left this guy tried cornering them when (name) and his friend were walking to his friends home as (friends name)s dad--who was trying to be better for his son (name) added-- would drive (name) home.

"I kind of just panicked and did what you guys taught me" (name) said softly and Penelope confirmed his story from the camera footage she had gotten, the boys were genuinely just hanging out when attacked "do you remember what he looked like?"

"Yeah, he looked like..."

When the boys were freed from their individual questioning, Spencer was waiting for the kids "hi dad..."

Spencer checked into he teen before glancing at the other kid "your dad is here to pick you up, him and I spoke so you're not in trouble"

(Name) hissed as the stitches from a cut he got in his arm stretched "now let's get you home, you look like hell" Spencer joked as the boys said their goodbyes and to see each other at school.

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None mostly. Goldfish slander, some minor injuries resulting from clumsiness, mentions of events from the show. Layla is here! We stan a healthy, happy divorced couple in this house >=\

A/N: There will be multiple chapters like these in this series, mostly dialogue and filler to help facilitate plot.

Taglist: @shirukitsune @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @bad4amficideas

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Chapter 4:

Old, Unhappy, Far-Off Things

"You guys can't keep doing this." Layla said over the phone.

"I know, I know." Marc sighed, running his hands through his hair. He haphazardly sprinkled some fish flakes into the tank to feed the ever chubby goldfish; looking at the glass to see Steven's reflection staring back at him, a frown creasing his features.

(Marc, you're going to make 'em pop!) Steven scolded.

"Well, how am I supposed to know how much to feed three goldfish?" Marc groaned.

"Steven told you the fish were gonna explode, eh?" Layla laughed softly.

"Yeah. Almost exactly that. I swear, I've never met a man who needs an emotional support fish." He replied, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, screwing the lid back onto the tiny container of nasty-smelling flakes.

(How dare you! Gus and his friends are members of this family! You're going to hurt their feelings!) Steven said, absolutely aghast at Marc's summary of how the little aquatic creatures fit into their lives.

(The other two don't even have names yet, hermanito.) Jake finally piped in, coming to co-front to see what all the fuss was about.

"But seriously, Marc. You have to take it easy. Just tell Khonshu to shove off and ignore his bony ass for a few days!" Layla sighed. Though they weren't married or intimate anymore, Layla still cared deeply for "her boys"; even Jake, to a point. Even if she didn't fully trust him, he was a part of Marc and Steven. Part of their system. She knew Jake was the protector. She knew that he was only violent when he absolutely had to be.

Or when Khonshu sent him after fresh targets. She still didn't like that.

"You think I haven't tried that?" Marc flopped onto the sofa, his hand resting over his face as he sighed.

"He's a god, Layla. It's not so easy to just say no."

"Taweret doesn't seem to have a problem with boundaries." She pointed out.

"Because Taweret is a big softie, Layla. She literally mothers you." Marc retorted with a grunt.

"Well… she is the goddess of motherhood. One of them, anyway." Layla conceded.

"And Khonshu is the god of being a tall, harping asshole who refuses to let me rest." Marc leaned back, closing his eyes as the leather on the sofa softly groaned under his weight.

"You think we like working for him, still? We don't. We need the suit, and people need to be kept safe..."

"Have you considered just… giving it all up? Telling Khonshu you're done? Just hang up the cape?" Layla hummed.

Marc could feel Steven and Jake fade into the background of the headspace, leaving him alone to his conversation with Layla, not enjoying the current topic at all. And it would be smarter to prevent a possible argument between Jake and Marc, right now. They had enough headaches.

"I already tried that, remember? Khonshu just used Jake before we knew he was here and had him kill Harrow."

"Right…"

"And besides…" Marc said, conspiratorially. "...I think he already has his sights set on another person to be a Moon Knight. And I don't know who it is, but I know he's going to hold it over my head. Steven, Jake and I would rather be dead than let some poor, innocent person see the shit we have."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Okay… You obviously need a mental health break. Anyplace in particular you can go to get away from everything?"

"Well… there is one place. A little shop Steven found that's nearby." Marc replied.

"Is it a bookstore?" Layla laughed.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." Marc chuckled. "Some woman runs it. American, if you can believe that. Apparently the store was her aunt's or something and she inherited it from her when she died. Steven's built a bit of a rapport with her. Me too. Kinda. She also sells stuff like coffee, tea, snacks… kind of like a one-person cafe."

"She runs it alone?"

"Yeah, impressive actually. But, it's not always safe, I saw that the other day." Marc nodeed.

"Oh? What happened?" Layla asked, wholly invested now. They had a friend? She likely didn't know about their DID, but Marc, and by that extension Steven, and possibly Jake having friends was a win in Layla's book.

"Some abusive drunk ran in after his girlfriend. Apparently she hid his girlfriend in her flat upstairs when she came in covered with bruises and freaking out." Marc said, smiling a bit at remembering your tenacity and urge to protect somebody you didn't even know. Even Jake respected you after that. And Jake respects very few people.

But it proves you were a protector, like he was. Not to the same extent, but close.

"Sounds like a good person."

"She seems like one. I just hope she doesn't get herself into trouble with anymore–ah!" Marc hissed, dropping the phone and waving his hand in the air as pain whipped through his fingertips.

"Shit!" He cursed, picking up the phone again with his other hand. He glared at the red marks appearing in his palm.

"Marc? Are you okay? What happened?" Layla asked, her voice just a hair above worried.

"Yeah, just my fucking hands again. Last week it was my shins." He grunted.

"So either you're getting old," Layla teased. "Or a certain someone hurt themselves again."

"Yeah, just wish they'd quit it. It's really inconvenient."

"That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

"What?" Marc asked, his brow furrowing as he watched the burning red marks blossom on his skin. Pretty, almost, if you were into that sort of messed-up body art.

"Marc, please don't tell me you haven't considered that every time you got hurt, your soulmate felt those pains, too?" Layla deadpanned with a sigh, most likely pinching the bridge of her nose. He could picture it now. She was probably pacing in the kitchen of her flat in Cairo; the sun illuminating her figure, making her curls glow in an amber light, highlighting her jaw as she frowned.

But the thought she triggered in his mind sent a stone dropping into his gullet. Had he really not considered that? He thought that maybe, being Moon Knight would… would dull the pains, or maybe negate them entirely. Or… was he just stupid and didn't put them into consideration?

If they can feel his pain, and he can feel theirs... what about when he…

But sometimes it felt redundant to think about and worry for someone he never met, but at the same time…

"Fuck." Marc hissed, wiping at his face.

"Oh, my gods! You haven't been careful at all have you?" Layla gasped.

"I…"

"Marc! You and the other two need to get it together and take it easy. You think you don't understand things? Imagine how your soulmate feels. They're probably going about their normal daily routines and feel it when you get shot! Oh gods, what about when we were in Egypt and you got impaled?" Layla murmured. "Gods, I almost forgot about… what about when you died? I don't even want to imagine what they felt."

Marc dropped back into the cushions staring blankly at the ceiling. She voiced the very thing he himself was hesitant to mention.

"I… I forgot about that, too." Marc said, his voice almost flat.

"I imagine they must have been confused when their mark reappeared."

"Fuck…" Marc groaned, feeling exhaustion suddenly creep into his body. But then, he jerked, gripping the back of his head. "Damn it!"

"Another pain?" Layla mused.

"God–yeah. Right in the back of my head." Marc grunted.

"Yikes. Your soulmate must not be having a good day." Layla chuckled.

"Whoever they are, they're accident-prone as all hell!" He grumbled, pouting as he rubbed the fresh sore spot.

"Pot callin' kettle, Maaaarc." Layla sang softly over the phone.

"Yeah, yeah. You sound like Steven."

"Good."

"Ugh, please don't say that." Marc said, a smirk cracking his mask of discomfort. "He's already nagging me."

"Okay, okay…" Layla quieted for a moment. "Hey, Marc?"

"Yeah?"

"I might take a trip to London. Maybe if I'm there, Taweret and I can run interference for you to give you a break." Layla suggested.

"Layla… You don't–"

"Already looking at plane tickets." She interrupted.

"Of course you are." Marc smiled. That was one of the things he loved about Layla when they first met. He was drawn to her. Her snark, her determination…

"Yeah. I'll pack a bag and hop the flight that leaves in a few hours."

"Wow, okay." Marc said, his eyes widening. "You're serious about this?"

"Who else is going to babysit you three and get Khonshu off your back if me and the Hippo Mama don't?" Layla jabbed playfully.

"Oh my god, you do not call her that." Marc snorted, shaking his head.

"She thinks it's a cute nickname. And she agrees with my plan, so…"

"Oh great. You two gonna just harp me and remind me to take my vitamins, too?"

"I mean, if we have to…"

"Ugh. You're impossible."

"But that's why everyone loves me!" Layla laughed.

"Sure, sure. And Layla?" Marc asked, looking at the mark on his wrist, a soft fond look in his eyes. It was blooming today, the rose.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem, Marc. Go hang at that bookstore and get a coffee or something, yeah?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You hurried up the stairs and rushed to your oven, frantically cursing with each step as you hauled yourself up the stairs and into your flat.

You practically ripped the oven door open, coughing as smoke filled your nostrils as the burned pastries greeted you.

"Damn it!" You whine, slipping your oven mitt on and grabbing the small pan with one hand.

Your phone started ringing and you spun on your heels to glare at the offending object secured to the wall.

"Oh, shut up, you–"

You felt the pan tip when you turned, the blackened treats threatening to fall to the floor, and without thinking you reached out with you other, unprotected hand and gripped it, before making a sharp yelp and throwing the pan onto the counter with a loud bang, blowing air over your burning and blistering hand.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You hiss, turning to your sink and hitting the tap for some cold water. The stinging subsided, if only minutely.

The phone rang incessantly again.

You dropped your shoulders and rolled your eyes with a groan, and pulled away from the soothing coldness of your tap.

But, of course, as your natural "luck" would have it… You trailed water onto your floor, and slipped into it, cracking the back of your head on the tile. Not hard enough to knock you out, no, but it was just enough to hurt, and leave a rather nasty bump.

So. There you lay, flat on your back, water still flushing into the drain of your sink, smoke detector now going off, and your house telephone ringing impertinently.

"I didn't do anything! Why're you guys always giving me the short end of the stick?" You shout at nothing in particular; maybe whatever gods could hear your lamentations and rueful words.

For extra effect, you flipped the bird with your uninjured hand.

Yeah.

Fate was a funny thing, all right.

Chapter 5: Link

[ashrillvenheim]

Awakening Past

Chapter 24

pairing: Ashley Graham x Leon S Kennedy.

Content: (+18) romance, angst, gore, erotic/suggestive themes at some point, slow burn, violence, action, self-harm, death talk,

If you're a MINOR DON'T keep reading, thank you.

Archive of our own / WORK LIST / Awakening Past Masterlist

prev/next

“ Okay, be careful, we'll meet you there.” replied the brunet before cutting the transmission.

Leon let out a sigh as Jill approached him at a brisk pace.

“ Did you hear that? “ she asked, brushing dust and gravel off her clothes.

“ Yeah, I guess we'll just have to figure it out. Do you have the radar? “ the agent checked to make sure his weapons were in good condition and had not been affected by the fall.

“ Yeah.”

“ Good, then let's get going.”

The two began to walk through the strange grottoes carved into the stone. Leon listened carefully to the echo of their footsteps, sensing where there was a path to follow or just a dead-end hole. He looked like a bat. 

Jill was walking beside him, looking at her surroundings with cold sweat trickling down her spine, so he decided to bring up some conversation.

“ Well, can you start explaining what happened to you and Ashley?”

Leon's neck gave a subtle tug.

“ It's not the time or the place, Jill.”

“Oh, it's the perfect time and place, Leon. There's no Ashley or Chris, there's no one to hear us, bother us or judge you, just me.”

“ That's enough for me not to want to tell you.” growled the man climbing a rock. Jill rolled her eyes.

“ You're jealous of Einar.”

“ I'm not jealous of that idio-” he shut up suddenly when he was aware of how unconvincing he was sounding. He sighed heavily and knew that with Jill he had no escape in this conversation.

“ I'm not jealous, I'm worried and...I was an asshole.”

Jill was silent as she heard him finally give in, even surprised, as stubborn as he was, that he gave in so quickly.

“ Why?”

He sighed, slipping through the cracks.

“ Because I said something barbaric to her, and it's all getting mixed up in my head.” He paused. “After seeing how she came back from her date with that guy at the Springfield museum, I can't help but wonder if Einar will do the same to her. If he'll be using her or if what he's showing is real from the start, I don't know if Ashley sees it, or doesn't want to see it, or it's just me being paranoid.”

Jill was silent for a few seconds before asking.

“ What did you tell her at the bar, Leon?”

The man swallowed for a second.

“ That her choices of men hadn't been the best.”

Jill stood in place and threw her head back, covering her face with her hands.

“ Oh my God...Do you realize what an outrageous thing you said to her? Just be glad she didn't smash the bottle over your head, how much of an asshole can you be?”

Leon grunted and turned to her.

“ She gets lots and lots of nasty guys Jill, she may not see it sometimes, but-”

“ Doesn't see it? Ashley's been around snooty, phony people since she was a kid, way more than we have, and you say she doesn't see it?”

“ She's been out of touch for a long time.”

“ How long?”

“ More than four years,” the agent whispered and Jill threw her arms up in the air.

“ And isn't that proof enough for you? Doesn't the fact that she's gone more than 4 years without dating prove to you that she's capable of discerning the ones that suit her from the ones that don't?”

“ There are times when desperation clouds your judgment, Jill.”

The woman frowned.

“Like you?”

Leon's eyes widened wildly and his heart shrank as if he'd been punched. His blue eyes met the woman's and Kennedy's lower lip vibrated for an instant.

“ I-”

“Guys! We've been attacked outside, I don't know who, but someone has broken in!

Jill and Leon tensed at the sound of Gunnar's voice, could it be Wesker's men, how had they found them?”

The earth began to rumble again and Leon looked around, listening and feeling the vibration in the bowels of the place. He watched his feet, ready for any cracks that might appear as everything began to rumble.

But nothing moved.

The two stood still as the tremors and reverberations subsided again. They looked at each other and tried to contact Chris, but he was unresponsive.

“ Crap.” Jill said with a grunt. “Let's go ahead and try again to contact Chris or Ashley.”

Leon nodded with his heart pounding.

For the next few minutes, the man could only hear his and Jill's hearts pounding. They were both terribly worried, when suddenly Leon's radio beeped. The officer picked it up at full speed.

“ Ashley? Chris?”

“ It's me. - Redfield's voice echoed through the machine and Jill sighed in relief.”

“ What happened?” asked Valentine.

“ It's Ada, she followed us and in the earthquake she fell with Ashley.”

Leon went white and for a few seconds everything around him disappeared.

Ada was there. And Ashley was with her.

A violent hurricane of emotions began to tear him up inside and Jill had to slap him on the cheek to bring him back from that deep well. He blinked and looked at the woman, who was watching him with seriousness and concern.

“ She's fine and has found the "Mother Plague". She told me she will collect samples and look for the way back. Do you see with the radar my location?”

The two agents looked at the small screen on their machines.

“ The signal is weak, but I think we're in a nearby area. We'll go look for you and then meet up with Ashley.”

Leon was still worried, but the words wouldn't come out of his throat.

“ What about Wong?” Jill asked.

“ 'I don't know, but I hope she fell somewhere other than Ashley's, it looks like she knows Graham's olfactory ability and used something so he couldn't smell her, so she caught us by surprise.”

“That was something Ada would do” Leon thought unconsciously, but didn't say it out loud.

“ Keep us posted, we'll meet soon.” was all he was able to say.

Chris nodded and ended the call. Jill watched the screen for a few seconds before turning to her partner, whose expression had darkened drastically and who seemed to be in an inner struggle. He didn't seem to be doing very well, so she raised her hand and rested it on his shoulder. Leon blinked and turned to her with a look of concern. 

“ Ashley will be fine, you know she can take care of herself.” Valentine whispered in an attempt to calm him. Leon knew this, but a part of him needed someone to remind him.

“ Yes.” he said in a whisper, trying not to think about Ada. “Let's move on.”

Jill nodded and they set off again.

*

Her head was spinning. The smell of blood filled her nostrils like a hammer blow and it took a few seconds for her eyesight to focus.

She grunted in pain and gently sat up to a sitting position. Slowly the memories came to her and filled in the gaps in her memory.

Ada. She knew she should have left her down there.

Ashley hissed, raising her hand to the wound on her head that seemed to have stopped bleeding, but had stained half her face. She reached for the flashlight and saw that it was still there, but, right next to it, was her shattered radio.

She cursed the woman in every possible language.

She stumbled to her feet and needed a moment to recover. She noticed that her backpack was not there, nor was her gun, and deduced that Ada had taken them with the samples.

How nice of her not to have shot her already.

She sighed heavily and retrieved what little she had left. She inhaled deeply and stood still.

But she hadn't taken her scent with her.

She smiled inwardly. Whatever she had used to camouflage her scent, it was losing its effect.

She adjusted her harness and picked up the ropes. Her eyes were riveted on the creature petrified in the stone. She thought for a second and decided to place her locator beacon on it before heading deeper into the grotto and climbing.

*

Leon presses the button on the talkie to try to contact Ashley, but only noise could be heard. He sighed again and turned his eyes back to the front. His thoughts couldn't help but go to Ada, why, why did she have to be there to ruin what little progress they were making? She had followed them from who knew where and now Ashley was stuck with her. With a mercenary who years ago had not hesitated to tell him to leave her behind in Spain and go with her.

The venom spewing from her lips was unrivaled. Even he wasn't.

The words he had shared with Jill a few hours earlier echoed in his head like drums. He should have apologized, should have gone to Ashley so she wouldn't have to face Ada alone. Wong was ruthless and would not hesitate to play dirty to take what she wanted.

He knew that all too well. He just hoped Ashley was safe.

Leon picked up a tiny echo in the depths just before the radar beeped softly, alerting them to someone's approach. They followed the signal and both raised their guns as they approached an uneven intersection. Leon heard the footsteps and shone the gun on the figure emerging from a steep grotto.

“ Chris!” Jill exclaimed, unable to contain a big smile. Leon lowered his gun and the Captain lowered his with an exhalation of relief.

“ At last!” he sighed, receiving a hug from his partner. He looked at Leon and his expression darkened. - Have you been able to contact Ashley?

Leon frowned and denied.

“ Shit.” Chris cursed. “this area is full of pathways, those creatures look like they came out of the very bowels of this place.”

“ If the “Mother Plague” is as deep as Ashley says it's gone down, then it's no wonder they had caverns all over the place. The exits may be blocked, but I'm sure the walls aren't as thick in those places.” Leon analyzed by touching the porous walls. “Although Ashley is better at detecting the paths leading outside. Do you have any of those explosives left, Chris?”

The three of them sighed.

“ Yes, but we should find her first, do you have her location?” asked Chris to his partner, who looked at the screen.

“ It seems to be below our level, but she's not moving.” Jill's expression became anxious. “Do you think something might have happened to her?”

Leon clenched his fists.

“ Maybe she's climbing vertically and that's why we see her in the same place. Let's try to get to that area and see what we find there.” Leon's voice was neutral and controlled. As much as he could to contain the trembling in his voice and the anxiety that was eating him up inside. It was okay, he had to trust her.

After hearing Leon's words, both Chris and Jill knew how nervous he was, but he was right. They couldn't be fatalistic. So, following the radar's lead, they set off to regroup all together again.

As they walked through the steep grottoes, the earth shook several times. The rumbling from the bowels of the mountain ranges was like the internal roar of a volcano. Chris told them about what they found before Ada appeared and they were separated in the earthquake. He told them about the size and how they seemed to devour each other when they were buried there. Jill and Leon looked disgusted, as did Chris when he saw them.

They climbed up steep slopes and crevasses that they barely squeezed through. They didn't know how much time had passed, that place seemed frozen in time like the ship graveyard in Norway. 

Leon listened intently to every movement of the place, concentrating on picking up any sign that might give him a clue as to where Ashley was.

But then he heard footsteps and...an all too familiar voice.

He raised his fist to stop the group. The voice didn't seem to be in the same grotto as them, it would have to be on the other side of the wall.

“ What is it, Leon?” whispered Jill, her muscles tense.

The agent's face darkened and his brow furrowed deeply.

“ Ada.”

The two ex-STARS tensed and tightened their grip on their weapons.

“ If she's here, Ashley shouldn't be far behind.” Chris whispered with a growl. The three of them walked through the grotto as Leon came to understand the woman's words more and more.

“ I think she's above us.” Leon pointed.

“ I'm close to the outside, send me a helicopter, they're right on my heels.”

Leon's eyes widened.

“She's going to get away!” He hurried to make a run for it to find a path that would lead them to her so he could stop her. “She must have gotten something, otherwise she'd still be searching!” The anguish he had managed to calm came back to him.

Jill and Chris ran alongside him, but stopped when they reached a closed road.

“ Fuck!” Chris exclaimed, holding his hands to his head, and Leon nervously looked around every corner, but found nothing.

He heard a whistle.

He stood still and pressed his ear to the wall. It was no ordinary whistling, it sounded...like the sound of the wind.

“ Chris! Blow this wall down!” he called to his companion, his heart pounding. The brunet looked confused for a moment, but didn't question his partner's words. Without hesitation, he pulled out another small explosive which he placed in a hole in the porous wall and the three backed away before detonating it. 

The icy wind came at them with almost painful force. The change in temperature left them disoriented for a moment, but Leon soon broke into a run outside. They were a long way from the original entrance, but he couldn't hear the helicopter.

They still had time.

Another explosion was heard several meters above them and the man turned to see that figure emerge from the dust.

The figure that had caused him so many headaches since they had known each other.

Ada waved her hand to push the cloud of dust away from her face and looked down to where she had heard a rumble earlier.

Her eyes widened, subtly surprised as they met Leon's familiar figure.

It was only an instant that they shared glances, only to then turn and start running up the mountain. When she turned around, Leon saw the backpack hanging from her back and his blood froze.

Ashley's backpack.

He broke into a sprint up the steep, volcanic, half-flopped rock faces. His legs sank into the rubble, making his ascent excruciatingly tedious. He had to get to her, he couldn't let her get away. He drew his gun and saw Ada reach out with her hook gun.

No, he couldn't let her.

He raised the gun and took aim. Ada's hook stuck in a distant rock above her.

Leon's finger rested on the trigger.

He had to stop her. He had to shoot...Like he had to do in Raccoon City...when that time he couldn't.....

Ada's legs shot out from between the rocks, propelled.

But he couldn't pull the trigger.

An explosion burst the wall above Ada, who was ascending the hook, and suddenly a body charged at her. The violent impact and weight released the hook and the two bodies tumbled down the loose stone of the hill.

Leon blinked and heard Ada roar as she struck her assailant. He saw a blonde mane roll and rise from the ground. Leon's heart felt an indescribable relief when he saw Ashley safe and sound.

But Ada didn't think so.

Wong pulled out her hook and fired at her rival without a glance. Ashley managed to dodge it and charged at the woman with all her might. Ada was superior in technique and experience, but Ashley was stronger now.

Ada exclaimed as Ashley's fist impacted her side and threw her to the ground. She coughed and her hand shook, where the hell did she get that strength? What had happened to the girl hiding behind Leon in Spain?

She stood up and pulled out the gun. It was a threat, it was clear now. Ashley grabbed a handful of gravel and threw it at her as she went to fire. The echo of the gun detonating echoed, but missed her. She tried to take the backpack from her, but Ada pulled the knife with her other hand and Ashley pulled hers to engage in hand-to-hand combat. 

“ Well, the pretty girl has learned how to fight.”

Ada's vicious voice whispered between metallic blows. Ashley gritted her teeth as the woman's elbow struck her in the waist.

“ Do you want Leon's attention that badly?”

Her venomous words took her by surprise and the knife caught her in the thigh. Ashley roared and grabbed the wrist of the gun to avoid a shot that rang in her ears.

“ What the fuck do you know about me or Leon?” the blonde snarled and kicked her in the knee. Ada roared as she fell to her knees and felt Ahsley yank the backpack forcibly off her. Wong lost the pistol which slid away from the two and kicked Ahsley away with a kick to the chest.

The two fell to the ground and sat up in gasps.

“ More than you know. Leon has no secrets for me. You think I don't know how you called him in Spain? Come on, Ashley, admit it, you're only doing this to be with him.”

Ashley clenched her fist around the hilt of her knife.

“ Do you think I'm that simple?” she growled through her teeth like a dog.

“ And Leon is just like you, unable to change his Hero complex, he's even passed it on to you, who was unable to leave me lying there when I was unconscious.”

Graham tensed her muscles and charged at her again.

“ That's not true, don't talk about Leon like that, he saved you from Saddler.”

Ada narrowly dodged the blade, which caught her glancingly in the shoulder, making her hiss in pain.

“ He saved me because he is incapable of hurting me or leaving me to my fate. Leon is a poor rookie cop who fell in love with a mercenary.”

Ashley felt rage pumping her blood like fire and managed to reach across Ada's throat to deliver a headbutt. Wong staggered back.

“ Don't you dare insult him! He deserves it all and I'm not going to stop fighting for the second chance he gave me to live!”

Ada snarled and like lightning fired the hook. Ashley couldn't dodge it this time and the metal dug into her shoulder. She screamed in pain, but grabbed the metal cable to pull it and drag Ada to her. Wong blocked the blonde's knife, grabbing her.

“ You're inept and living in a fairy tale! The world is cruel and merciless and Leon is up to his head in that shit, you think you're going to pull him out? He can't let go of his past, he can't let go of me.”

Blood trickled down Ada's arm and down Ashley's. Graham looked at her with the eyes of an enraged jaguar and grabbed her with all her might to lunge again with her head. Ada withstood the onslaught.

“ I don't care if he has demons! We all have them! I chose this path because I want to help! Because he taught me not to lose hope!” she struck her head again, blood splattering on the floor. “ I don't care that he won't forget you! I will fight and fight so that he won't have to stand alone against the world you feed!” And once again. “Even if he can't see it, I'll be there!”

The last headbutt knocked Ada to the ground and Ashey stumbled backward with the backpack clutched in her other hand. With blurred vision she reached for the gun and pointed it at her, her hands shaking from the effort and strain.

Ada was still seeing in spirals, but when she sensed Ashley's figure aiming at her, she managed to pull the trigger on her hook. The rope recoiled, snapping violently out of Ashley's flesh and driving her knee into the ground, off balance.

A whirring sound echoed through the clouds and snow. Ada shot the hook skyward with difficulty, her body dejected and blood staining her face. 

The helicopter caught the hook, and Ashley's shot missed against the rocks as Ada was lifted into the air.

Leon watched the figure disappear behind the curtain of thin snow as he finally reached the bottom of the hill down which Ada and Ashley had fallen. He looked at the figure of his companion and his heart shrank. 

She was covered in dirt and blood. She held the prized backpack with an iron grip in one hand, while in the other was the pistol. The hand that carried the gun was shaking, but her knuckles were white from how hard she was squeezing it, as if she was holding back a terrible inner rage.

And she was. Ashley felt like she was going to burst at any moment. She wanted to scream, curse and cry at the same time, from the fury she felt.

She should have left her down there, it would have been the logical thing to do.

But maybe Leon wouldn't forgive her. “ He can't let me go.” Ada's words echoed like daggers inside her. Part of her knew it wasn't that simple, but then...she remembered how furious he'd seemed when he'd first told her about Ada. And he didn't seem angry because of the woman, but because he seemed incapable of hating her to some extent.

Or so she thought at least.

She smelled Leon approaching and gritted her teeth to push the woman's horrible words out of her head.

Leon had seen the violent fight. He would never have thought Ada would attack her like that, but Ashley...she had fought almost...to death. The two seemed to have wanted to finish each other off at that moment, though Leon had sensed that they wouldn't have.

But that didn't make him feel any better when he finally got to her.

“ Ash... ley?” he whispered her name, somewhat fearful of upsetting her current delicate state. He saw the woman's shoulders shake for a second before she turned to him and made him swallow saliva.

Her face was covered in blood. The wounds on her body had stained all of her clothes and now seemed to have stopped bleeding, when they shouldn't have.

Her expression was grim and angry. Her golden eyes glowed menacingly and Leon had to approach very cautiously.

“She's escaped.” she whispered hoarsely from the effort.

“ Yes, but she won't be back soon, you've hurt her badly.” he answered her softly.

He didn't want to talk about what he had heard. Because he had heard it ALL. He watched Ashley simply nod and let Leon take over the gun and the backpack.

Shortly thereafter Chris and Jill arrived, who had been left behind in the chase. They went to ask when they saw Ashley's condition and hesitated.

“ I left my locator in the Mother Plaga” said the blonde in a whisper."

Her three companions looked at each other for a moment.

“ Let's go back to Gunnar.” was all Chris said, aware that they needed to regroup and heal their wounds before thinking about how to proceed at this point.

Ashley simply let out a slight sound in affirmation and let them help her walk back.

*

Gunnar soon found them with the ponies. He had followed the source of the sound of the explosions and the helicopter and the group could see how far they had ended up from the main entrance. The mayor was horrified when he saw the condition of the group and rushed them to the old woman's hut.

There they tended to everyone's injuries, none being extremely serious, being mainly cuts, abrasions and bruises from the falls and fights. Ashley's shoulder hook wound was the only one that needed more attention and it was Jill who stitched up the injury.

“ Gunnar, do you have any cell phones I can use?” Ashley then asked as Jill finished bandaging his shoulder.

“ Yes, but who are you going to call?” he held out his cell phone in confusion.

“ Someone I sent for help.” she said, dialing the number she had memorized.

The other three understood who he meant.

“ Do you think he's arrived?” Leon asked softly, looking away to give her privacy while she was being bandaged.

“We'll find out now.”

She pressed the call button and the sound echoed in the room heavily, like a bell breaking a dense silence with its rumbling.

Someone picked up.

“ Rag-”

“ I'm gonna tie you up and gag you. I'm going to stick your feet in a pool of ants and pull out all your hairs one by one with a pair of pliers. I plan to kill you, revive you and kill you again by giving me non-stop heart attacks.”

The anguished voice echoed in the room and the team's eyes widened at the familiar tone.

“ Hunnigan?” Ashley's voice was shaky.

“ Don't ever, ever, ever, EVER give me these death scares again.”

Ashley felt her eyes become watery at the sound of that voice.

Ragna had arrived and had managed to give them her message. Ahsley clutched the Vegrisir around her neck and thanked whatever entity would listen for crossing her path with Ragna.

“ I'm sorry Ingrid, but we're fine, we are and we've found it.” said the blonde, unable to contain a smile of excitement, relief and nerves, which spread to the rest of the group.

They were no longer alone.

“ Have you found a sample?” The agent's voice was unbelievable and they needed a while to bring her up to date with everything that had happened in the last few weeks.

The feeling of absolute relief ran through everyone's body when they heard that call and many of the worries that had been eating away at them since they were left alone, gradually disappeared.

“ Well, now that we have your location, we will send a plane to pick you up and extract the specimen, good job.”

When they said their goodbyes and the call ended, the agents dropped into the first place they found with a long grunt of pent-up emotions.

Now they just had to wait to go home.

*

Narsson's expression when she saw them get off the horses was one of absolute horror. Her face went pale and she approached Ashley with trembling hands.

“ My God, Ashley...” she whispered, taking the young woman's face in her hands. Graham sighed heavily and closed her eyes, feeling all the tension snatching at her remaining energy. She received her teacher's embrace like a warm blanket and was grateful that she didn't decide to lecture them. Enma could see in her former student's golden eyes that she had enough on her mind.

She greeted the rest just as worried, seeing how dirty and tired they came. Night had already fallen, and the orange lights of the town felt warm before the soft snow that was still falling, although the storm had already seemed to pass altogether.

They were taken care of at Gunnar's house. They had already told him what they had seen down there. It was decided that after they extracted the Mother Plague fossil, they would proceed to reseal all the exits that had formed in the altercation with Ada.

During the talk, Leon was quite absent, as was Ashley. He had heard the words they had shared in their confrontation and felt a terrible knot ever since. The way Ashley defended him from Wong's hurtful words...they were eating him up inside. So much so that he didn't even know how to apologize anymore.

That night they spoke very little. Over dinner with Narsson they updated her on the eggs they had found and the dinosaurs they had seen, but because of the dangerous terrain, they didn't think it was safe to go back into those caves.

They did not tell her about the Plagas they had found or Ada.

Ashley and Chris were the first to go to sleep, being the worst off when they met the mercenary. They slept through the night, and Ashley didn't wake up until noon the next day.

It was the shuffling she heard from the haystack in the stables that woke her. Ashley grunted, pained, and got out of bed to see what was going on outside. Children and animals could be heard everywhere, as if it were a carnival. She dressed and went down to the stables and then out into the street. 

The snow was an insistent thin curtain, it didn't seem to want to leave. A jumble of smells came to her, a mixture of food, bread, aromatic plants, mint and alcohol.

As she walked down the street she saw the facades of houses decorated with dried herbs and braids made of animal hair.

“ Ashley!” a voice called out to her from a distance. She turned and saw Helga walking towards her with a basket of loaves. “ You're awake at last.” she smiled happily at her.

“Yes, but what is all this?” she asked confused, but unable to take her eyes off the bread in the baskets. Helga saw her mouth water and laughed before breaking off a piece and giving it to her.

“ It's a meslin flour bread with walnuts and raisins. Remember when you arrived I told you that we were thinking of making a Blót? We have been preparing it for several days, and tonight the songs and the feast for the gods will take place, maybe this way they will get rid of their bad mood and decide to give us back the sunlight.” she laughed looking at the sky. Ashley still found it magical the way they still worshipped the ancient Norse pantheon there.

“ Tonight?” Ashley asked with a mouthful of delicious bread.

“ Yes, we will sing in the town square and drink. You are all invited, feasts are for sharing.”

Ashley was grateful for the detail and all the kindness that woman had shown them since they came.

“ Have you seen my partners?”

“ They are with my children in the market making wheat braids.” laughed the woman softly. - They've ended up adopting your friends.

Ashley laughed with her, feeling, for the first time in weeks, at ease.

“No problem, I'll go with them, I'll see you at sunset.”

They both said goodbye and Ashley walked through the old streets full of joy as she munched on the delicious bread.

She greeted familiar faces she had met the previous days and finally arrived at the small town market. It was somewhat difficult to discern the smells, but she managed to pick up the scent of Leon and Chris. She followed it and passing through the crowd saw the figures of her companions sitting in a circle. She called out to them, but they did not hear her in the din.

Until blue eyes were the only ones that lifted in her direction.

Ashley's heart skipped a beat when she saw him rise from his seat. Their gazes were locked on each other, and there was...something. Like a string that made them unable to blink and urged them to go to each other. Ashley slipped through the crowd and saw Leon take a step toward her.

They needed to talk. There was too much going on in Ashley's head that would drive her crazy if they didn't fix their misunderstanding.

They took another step toward each other.

“ Hey, Ashley!” a broad hand gently wrapped around her shoulder, causing her to lose focus of the sapphire-eyed man and turn to one with emerald irises.

“ Einar?” before she could react, the Norwegian embraced her tightly, lifting her off the ground for a second.

Leon was pinned in place when he saw Einar's figure reach Ashley earlier and embrace her. He saw Einar smile and the two walked towards the group.

“ The marmot has woken up.” announced the Norwegian with a laugh and Ashley couldn't help but search for Leon's gaze, only to find him with a neutral expression, devoid of the eagerness she had thought she had seen only seconds before.

“ It's about time, come on, relieve me before my hands fall off.” Jill grunted, getting up from the stool and holding out the wheat braid she had been making with Helga's daughter. Her brother was with Chris and Sven.

Ashley looked a little confused, but on impulse she nodded and took Jill's place, feeling both Einar and Leon's eyes on her.

“ How are you doing?” asked Narsson next to her with a somewhat worried expression.

The blonde resumed braiding the plant under the girl's directions.

“ Well, now that I've slept better.” she smiled at her, trying to calm the anguish she knew it caused her to see her hurt.

Leon watched Ashley as he worked on his own decorations that Helga had asked for. None of the group mentioned anything about the expedition or the condition of Ashley or Chris. One or two things Einar asked, but he realized it was a subject he would not get anything more out of than he already knew. 

They just followed the kids' directions to carry out all the tasks they had to have ready by nightfall. During that time, Ashley felt a strange discomfort toward Leon. Ever since her encounter with Ada, the way he looked at her seemed... different.

Hours passed until finally dusk came. With the midnight sun it would be a very different experience from what Ashley had experienced on other holidays.

The sky was not filled with stars, but the hue it took on as midnight approached almost seemed... oneiric.

They were led to the town square, the largest area of the small village. Everything seemed to have been set back centuries. Torches lit the place along with Viking motifs carved from horns, wood and adorned with skins and braids of animal hair and wheat.

There was food on large solid wood tables that had been set up around the perimeter of the square, and in the center, they carried a pile of instruments. Those who would sing and intone the melodies dedicated to the gods carried their large cow horns, along with Viking harps, horsehair Tagelharpas and skin drums of different sizes.

The inhabitants had dressed in braids, metal bracelets, leather tiaras and drawings on their faces or bodies.

The visitors were led to one side of the stage and sat on the furs they had provided for the audience under tents that protected them from the soft snow.

Helga's children painted their faces with blue pigments, laughing as they decorated them with lines on their foreheads and chins, although they decided to give Chris and Sven more of a raccoon shape.

People were talking loudly and shouting happily with their mugs of alcohol and bread. Gradually they took their places on the huge fur rugs and wooden benches they had pulled out of the houses around the square. The town itself seemed to have taken on the essence of a giant living room, with the torches as fireplaces and the musicians as the center table.

Ashley was elated to hear them. Narsson had long ago taught her about fascinating Nordic folk music and she had longed to attend one of these festivities ever since.

So her heart was pounding.

The crowd gradually quieted down and the voices soon turned to distant whispers until silence reigned in the square.

The characteristic sound of the Tagelharpa resounded in the place, echoing among the houses. The melody was soon accompanied by the first drums, reverberating in the chests of those present and rumbling against the facades next to the stringed instrument, immersing them in an ethereal aura.

With the deep sound of the horns, the ground seemed to tremble and spirits to emerge from the depths of the earth. As various instruments added to the melody, Ashley felt them stir something within her, as if the music was the voice of her deepest, most visceral instincts.

The first voices joined the instruments and it was as if they were putting voice to the most primal instincts and emotions of those present. Almost as if they vibrated with their souls.

Narsson closed her eyes, feeling the essence of her ancestors, but when she opened them, she saw the amber irises of her student, glowing in the light of the torches. 

Even if she had not been born there, nor raised with that culture, Nordic music was something that captivated her since she had been taught it when they went to Amherst. It was as if those tunes brought out something in her that she had been unaware of until then, and he was glad to see her enjoying herself in that way. So much so, that it caught the attention of the other agents and the guides. The group smiled as they watched her humming the repeating verses, moving her foot to the rhythm of the drums and her body to the beats of the wooden sticks between them.

It was as if everything around them disappeared. The problems, worries and anxieties vanished with each beat of the drums. The tension in their muscles evaporated with the booming of the horns to the winds and their bodies felt lighter with the sound of the strings.

They didn't know how long it took before the song began to soften, slowly ending in little whispers before fading away.

The audience screamed loudly and applauded the musicians energetically. The songs that followed later were accompanied by the audience, and some people were even encouraged to get up on the small stage with the musicians.

Then Helga's daughter ran, after finishing one of the melodies, to the musicians. The ones who looked younger spoke to her and the girl turned to point out Ashley in the group of strangers. The blonde froze as the little girl ran up to her and took her by the hands.

“ Come sing!” she exclaimed happily. Ashley stiffened as she tugged at her.

“ Me? Oh no, no, no, I couldn't....”

“Your teacher told me you sing very well! The gods will like it, I'm sure!”

Ashley turned to Narsson, who was smiling broadly at her along with the rest of the group. Einar and Sven seemed particularly curious having never heard her before, so they were gesturing for her to come up on stage.

The woman sighed defeatedly.

“ One song.”

“ Two!” the little girl rebutted and lifted her off the carpet to drag her over to the musicians.

The crowd applauded and Ashley greeted the performers shyly, but they were very welcoming. They offered her to first do a song accompanying the backing vocals and held out the paper containing the lyrics. She stood next to a couple of girls as young as herself and let the melody sweep her back into a dream world, where her voice blended into a chorus of whispers and melodic shouts in the wind in their local language.

The guides were very surprised, while the rest of the group smiled at how happy Ashley seemed among the musicians and singers. She got right into the rhythm of the drums and when the song stopped with her soft voice intoning the last choruses, she went to get up to return to her seat, but one of the girls grabbed her arm.

“ Sing your song, sing one that is special to you, you have a beautiful voice.”

Ashley turned red at the mere thought of singing in front of so many people and...let alone a song that was important to her.

“ I don't know, it's not even an original song of mine, it's an artist who sings with more classical and Celtic tones.” she tried to turn down the offer, but that information only seemed to encourage the two girls who were encouraging her to sing.

“ Much better! New songs always come with different emotions, we would love to have you sing it for us and the gods.”

Ashley didn't know what to say. She wanted to refuse, but felt that if she did she would be insulting them in a terrible way.

She had never been able to sing that song in front of anyone, not even Sergio and Jonh, who begged her to be able to record it over and over again and she just refused.

She looked aside for a moment, the emotions that had been distracted until then returning to her. She sighed.

“Okay.” 

The girls exclaimed, happy, and pulled her and the other musicians closer together to agree on the new song. Ashley was terrified when she mentioned Eurielle's “By a thread” song to them. The girls knew the tune and soon got the rest up to speed on how to adapt it to their instruments. They did a little test on the bass and when they all understood where the notes and theme were going, they got down to business.

Ashley sat down with the two girls who would be doing backing vocals for her and they announced to the audience the new song Graham would be singing. She was terribly nervous and couldn't look at her group. Or rather, she couldn't look at one man in particular.

The first, harp-like notes echoed softly, soothing the audience to listen. Ashley clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking and closed her eyes to calm her emotions and let the notes gently rock those feelings that so confused her.

She took a deep breath and her lips parted.

“By the light of the moon....

Not a second to lose...

Two star-crossed lovers entwine....

Her voice predominated in the square. A soft tone that contrasted with the previous songs or even...the one she sang that drunken night.

This one wasn't erotic, it seemed...a song of love and longing.

“They were carried away 

By a powerful wave

Which swept their fears aside...”

Those verses made Leon arch an eyebrow and shift his posture on his mat. For some reason, those words brought him back to that dark village. 

“As they laid side by side

On that cold starry night

And they held each other tight”

He didn't understand why he felt that those words partly narrated his past. Maybe it was his imagination? His blue eyes were fixed on Ashley's figure and he saw that she was not smiling. Her expression was...distressed? As if that song was bringing out a part of her that she had never shown.

As if it was baring her feelings.

“He whispered her name

Over and over again...”

He remained static. It was not his imagination.

The voice was taking on strength as the music became more intense. He could see how Ashley's tense hands showed how intimate the song was and how deep it reached, ascending and ascending until the last chorus burned with her voice.

“All the storms we have faced!

That tried to break our embrace!”

It was their song. Of the two of them.

“Didn't win 'cause you're still mine...

By a thread...”

Leon noticed how Ashley clutched the bracelet on her wrist, the one he gave her and suddenly, the metal he always wore around his, felt heavier.

He realized he was holding his breath and was only able to catch his breath when he saw her drag out the last note and inhale deeply. As if they had both felt the same thing in that song. 

The thread the song spoke of. Their bracelets.

Ashley stood up with flushed cheeks and trembling hands. She did her best to smile and take a small bow before stepping off the stage to applause.

I needed to breathe. She was struggling to fill her lungs. She couldn't look at the group, she couldn't after singing that song. She had felt a jumble of conflicting emotions. Her own from when she had been in the village, the farewell, the rescue, her new path, the reunion and all the memories they had shared until then, and now Ada too.

She had created a horrible hole in his chest.

She walked through the people until a hand took her arm gently and as she turned she met Einar.

“ You've been great, do you want to go for a walk?”

She didn't say it, or show it, maybe because she didn't want to admit it, but a part of her had wished that instead of those emerald eyes, it had been an ocean looking back at her.

“ Yeah, my head hurts.”

Leon watched in the distance as Ashley marched off with Einar, and something in him shrank. Terribly.

His whole body had tensed to go after her, but Einar had beaten him to it and now he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to sit down again, he was too upset to do that, so he decided to leave the square for a while.

*

Einar and Ashley walked through the somewhat quieter streets. The Norwegian gently slid his arm around her shoulders, but he could sense that her head was not with him. He stopped and took her by the chin.

“ Should I kiss you again to get you to stop spinning things around?” he said in a soft but teasing tone, leaning towards her. Ashley didn't respond on the spot, thinking maybe it would be a good idea, but when the man's lips brushed hers, something shrank inside her.

She rested her hands against his chest and Einar stopped.

“ Is something wrong?” he asked, confused by her strange attitude.

Ashley looked down at the floor, her expression nostalgic and vulnerable.

“ What do you want, Einar?” her voice was somewhat muffled.

The Norwegian blinked and stood upright again.

“ Me? To have a good time with you. You're strong, I'm attracted to you and you're interesting.”

The man's honesty surprised her, but to some extent she appreciated it.

“ I...I like you, but...I don't think we're on the same page.” she finished.

Einar watched her in silence, aware now that there was much more inside her than he had believed. He hadn't been looking for anything serious, after all they barely knew each other and had come from far away, he never expected anything from her but to have a good time, but if that was in Ashley's plans. And from what he could see, it wasn't.

The Norwegian sighed and gave a lopsided smile.

“ Is this about your partner?” he asked bluntly, to which Ashley didn't know what to answer at first.

“ No, it's about me. I'm not in a situation where I'm just looking for the same thing as you, I'm sorry.”

Einar understood perfectly well what she was referring to and sighed loudly, but with a comical air.

“ Wow, and I was looking forward to find out if you were that fierce in bed too, it's a shame, I envy the one who will be able to have that experience.”

Ashley turned red up to her ears, but she saw that he really meant it. That he respected her.

“ Thank you Einar.”

“ Don't get sentimental, you know I'm not into that complicated stuff.” He smiled at her and shook her hair. “ But I'm going to steal you a goodbye kiss.”

She went to reply, but before she could pull away, he gave her a soft kiss, almost as a tease, as she felt him smile against her lips.

When he broke away Ashley smacked him on the chest and smiled as she heard him laugh.

“ A revenge.” he said slyly and then added. “By the way, the hot springs in town are open, if you want to be alone for a while.

Ashley thought for a second and seemed convinced by the idea. She needed some calm.

“Yes, I'll go.” She watched him walk away from her back towards the square. - See you tomorrow! - said the young woman to which Einar responded by raising his hand and waving goodbye to her.

She stood there for a moment and then decided to go up to the hot springs.

*

When he saw her return to the square he was only surprised. Leon was resting on one of the tavern benches he had set up when he saw Einar return. His body rose unconsciously as their eyes met and the Norwegian passed him.

“ She went to the hot springs, you guys are too complicated for me.”

The agent blinked and turned to see the guide wander back into the crowd. 

He stood there for a moment. Should he go? He thought he had gone with Einar to be together, but...she seemed to have turned him down.

The logical part of him told him that maybe it wasn't the best time, but after hearing the song and seeing Ashley's expression as he did it, he felt he should at least apologize for everything they'd been through those last few days.

He took a deep breath and walked towards the hot springs.

*

Ashley sighed as the warm water surrounded her and relaxed her muscles. Her clothes rested on a small bench at the edge of the natural pool. She should have asked Helga for a swimsuit, but she would have to make do with her underwear.

The water was up to her chest and she took the opportunity to remove the bandages from her shoulder. The wound looked like nothing more than a nasty cut that would be fully healed by tomorrow. She took a breath and sank into the water. Silence enveloped her like a blanket underwater. After all the hubbub she had been in for hours, she was grateful for the calm. But at the same time, she was beginning to hear her thoughts more loudly.

Although the small worry that Einar was giving her had already subsided. Yes, she had to think positive, that's it.

A few slivers of water came to her and she opened her eyes quickly to surface. She took a breath and looked around. She still seemed to be alone.

She glanced toward the entrance and noticed another small pile of clothes next to hers. She arched her eyebrows.

“ Hello? Einar?” she turned around in the therma, looking for the owner of those clothes. “ Enma?”

Suddenly a hand closed around her ankle, dragging her underwater. She threw a kick that reached no one and propelled herself to get out and breathe.

Only to hear a laugh.

She wiped her eyes tensely and found Leon looking down at her with a smile.

“ You should see your face.” He told her in his usual teasing tone.

Ashley blinked in confusion and stared at him not knowing how to react for a second to the sudden change in attitude.

It took her a second to realize that it had been him who had grabbed her ankle.

“ You're an asshole.” she splashed in his face angrily, but not angrily. She couldn't hold back a smile when she heard him laugh again. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Leon shook his head like a dog to get the water off his face. A gesture that had been characteristic for as long as she had known him.

The man tossed his hair back, now disheveled and with locks falling everywhere.

“ It was the idea, princess.”

Ashley fell silent. When was the last time he had called her by her nickname? Since the incident in Norway? It seemed like an eternity ago and it made her heart beat faster for a moment.

“Are you tired of the festival already? Or have you had too much to drink? You smell of alcohol.” she joked, not knowing quite what to do. The two of them were bathing in their underwear in that bathtub. Alone.

Leon stood upright in the water, which reached below his chest, just like Ashley. He couldn't help but glance for a moment at her bare shoulder, where the wound marked her smooth skin. He turned his eyes back to her.

“ I just got a shot and it was noisy, yeah, but…” he paused to scratch the back of his neck and sigh. His voice deepened subtly. “I came to talk to you.”

Ashley stood static, feeling the nerves start to course through her.

“ Talk? About what?” For some reason she thought playing dumb was the best idea.

Leon fixed his eyes on her earnestly.

“ About our discussions.”

Instinctively Ashley cringed and sighed, wanting to turn away. If she wanted him to apologize it was a no-brainer.

“ Leon, I don't know if this is the time-”

“ I want to apologize.”

Those words took the woman by surprise and she felt Leon's hand around her wrist to prevent her from leaving.

“ Forgive me, Ash. I was an idiot to say those things to you, I...” she fell silent, not knowing how to express herself. Ashley turned to him, moving closer to listen to him carefully, and he saw it. He looked aside and swallowed his pride and habit of keeping it all in.”He was worried and...I think...jealous.”

Ashley stood still with her heart in her throat. What had he just said?

“ Worried and jealous?” she asked, not quite understanding what was going on.

Leon grunted to himself and raised his head uncomfortably.

“I don't know, I...I didn't want you to get hurt again like Dylan did. You're important to me, Ash, what we went through in Spain...it was just you and me, and I know I shouldn't care, and you've grown and evolved, but it's...like an impulse for me to want to defend you. I'm sorry.”

The man gave her a glancing glance, too embarrassed to stare at her, and Ashley knew. The blonde was silent for long seconds and was about to respond when Ada's words came back to her.

“You don't always have to defend me, Leon.” she whispered looking down at the water between them, but rough fingers grabbed her chin to make her look up. Her heart stopped as their eyes sank into each other.

“ I know, but…” he paused, looking at the small wounds on his forehead from the headbutts she gave Ada and then at the ones she suffered on her shoulder in the confrontation, then added, “What Ada told you about me is true.”

Ashley's eyes widened.

“ Did you...hear us?”

Leon nodded.

Ashley's face went scarlet by the second, to the point where she was unable to look at him and had to avert her eyes. Leon could hear his partner's racing heartbeat and his fingers trailed down from her chin to her neck, where a small scar rested, but with a horrible reminder.

“ What Ada said is true. I have demons that sometimes consume me Ash, and I don't want that to drag you down, I don't-”

“ What Ada said is bullshit.” Ahley's violence took him by surprise. “I know those demons and I know you fight them, but you've never dragged me in. You've never wanted to involve me in anything more than you had to, even if it meant risking your life. - Ashley's hand came to rest on the knife scar he wore on his shoulder, a wound that shared a moment with the one on her neck. “Like you did that day.”

They both remembered that day. The horror and fear they went through at that moment. When they thought they were about to escape the island. In how they met Saddler after his miraculous impact with the truck Ashley was driving and...in how he took control of her body.

Leon stroked his thumb over the mark at the level of her jugular vein. 

The pain he felt, when that psychopath tried to stop him while Ashley was unable to control her body, was still vivid. The words the leader of that cult spoke to her, “Kill him” he said handing her a knife. And how she walked to him, controlled by the plaga and raising the blade to finish him off.

Still in pain, he stopped her, but the plaga was strong and Saddler walked away, ordering her to finish him off. By this time Leon was weak and called out to her again and again and again, aware that he may have lost her forever.

Ashley brushed the scar at the end of her collarbone and remembered how Leon's call made her wake up. At that moment she was aware of what he might do to him and her only thought at the moment, was to aim the weapon at her.

At that moment, Ashley pressed the blade against his neck, ready to end his life rather than hurt Leon, but he stopped her as the knife sank into the flesh. He screamed and begged her not to do it as Ashley cried that she didn't want to kill him, that she would rather kill herself than let Saddler control her to kill him.

It was horrible. Those seconds when they both withstood the pain of the pests and Leon promised her that he would save her, that they would both get out of there, only for Ashely to lose control of her body again and the knife to sink into Leon's shoulder.

They both felt a shiver run down their spines as they touched each other's scars.

“ I'm sorry.” was all Leon could whisper, moving closer to her without realizing it.

Ashley raised her eyes to him.

“ You're always apologizing to me when it's not your fault, when it was others who made us do all this.” she whispered, the song that represented all those feelings still echoing in her head.

“ It was nobody's fault when I was an asshole and told you you had bad taste in men.”

Ashley frowned, pained, and took his jaw in her hands.

“ Stop, please. Yes, you were an asshole, but I know you would never hurt me, not on purpose and you may have overdone it this time in your eagerness to defend me to the point of sounding like an angry jealous man, but I forgive you.”

Leon dropped his shoulders at her touch and he himself raised his hands to place them on her cheeks.

“ You shouldn't forgive me so easily.” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers.

“ You may have been somewhat right, my taste is terrible with men.” she smiled, having missed that closeness and brushing her nose against his.

“ That's not true.”

“ I have you as a friend.”

Leon was silent.

“ You're so silly.”

They both laughed softly and approached each other without thinking, hopelessly attracted. All that pent-up tension they had been feeling for the past week gradually disappeared. They were glad to have resolved that situation, although...they hadn't talked about that...jealousy Leon had mentioned. But she didn't want to ruin the moment of reconciliation, so they just felt for each other.

Ashley had missed Leon's scent, having him so close and soothing her like he had always done. Leon thought the same of her and couldn't help but move one of his hands up to entwine his fingers in her damp hair.

Neither wanted to move and they both felt the same strength that made them cling together in Norway. 

Leon gently moved his nose from side to side, the gesture that was already like a little ritual just between them and Ashley reciprocated. But they both felt something different inside them.

Einar's kiss, Leon's jealousy, Ada's words about them...that whole trip had been testing them and now that they thought they were back to normal, it didn't quite feel that way.

Their breaths became slightly more labored without realizing it and they felt their hearts pounding against each other's chests.

For a moment they were back in the room. To when they clung like two desperate souls.

Leon encircled the nape of her neck gently and Ashley his neck. Their caresses produced sighs that were lost in the mist of the hot springs.

They didn't quite know what was happening to them, or maybe they did, but they didn't want to think about it. They just let themselves go, pressing their bodies together as if they were afraid someone would break their embrace.

Just like the song. Their song.

Ashley caressed the man's cheekbone lovingly, responding to the sway of his nose, but gradually their faces drew closer together. Their breaths reached each other's lips and both felt their skin tingle.

The voices of their consciences faded away and little by little the goblins, which they had always had in the back of their minds, began to emerge. They whispered to them to come closer. They told Leon to sink his hand deeper into her hair and Ashley to wrap his hand around her neck. 

Their bodies had no room and the burning of their skins was the only thing on their minds.

They moved closer and this time, a light touch was the last thing they needed for their minds to finish clouding over.

Their lips brushed and met in a shy kiss. A kiss that led to another less embarrassing kiss, and this one to the next. Their lips becoming heavier and heavier and their kisses deeper and deeper. Soft sighs came from them and, not knowing who asked permission first, their tongues met and moaned hopelessly.

Leon's broad hands gripped her waist tightly, almost as if he wanted to melt into her, panting between each kiss, but unable to pull away. Ashley sank her fingers into his hair, clutching him with gentle tugs that made him growl into her mouth, which she devoured like nectar.

They surrendered to each other in long, slow kisses. So deep they seemed to want to devour each other. The moans and grunts that came from their lips between each bite were invitations to follow the next.

The two lost the reins of their thoughts and simply let themselves be carried away by their instincts. The taste of the other's forbidden lips was poison and, as such, seemed to be consuming them deeper and deeper into the well of desire.

That kiss seemed to be the beginning of their undoing.

[dea-doesnt-do-d1ck]

Family line

★≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺★

Kiyosumi was nauseous.

Additionally, he had the biggest hangover he's had in weeks, all because he had gone on a bender over the weekend.

So now, here he was, Monday afternoon, nauseous, lying on his futon, the nasty looking bedside table that functioned as a nightstand beside him starting to tremble as his phone that was laying screen down on the booze-stained wood began to vibrate.

Groaning in annoyance and clicking his tongue,the man picked up his phone,his brows furrowing causing deep wrinkles to set on his forehead as his eyes tried to focus on the bright white screen which irritated them, considering the rest of the room was bathed in darkness due to the man having closed his curtains before trying to take a nap.

"Whaddya want...?"

His voice was gruffy and clearly communicated even more than his rude words that he was in no mood to talk or even interact with anyone. Well, anyone other than his cat that was currently lying in her bed that stood next to his.

"Hello kiyo, how are you? Good? Great. Anyway, do you know what we're celebrating this Saturday?"

"No."

The person on the other end of the phonecall sighed a bit, before letting him know it was Keichi's birthday. Kiyosumi's brows furrowed even more as he told her he didn't care, his sister cutting him off before he could say anything more rude than that as she told him that they'd be celebrating at their mother's home.

"Look, neither I nor him expect you to bring a present but you're coming. Bye bye, see you Saturday!"

Before the Japanese man could protest, the older woman hung up the phone as kiyosumi resisted the urge to toss the smart device across his room, instead just slamming it down on the night table, as if to show his upset despite the fact that there was no one around to see it as he tried to snuggle back into bed.

But there was something stopping him.

He almost screamt in frustration as, additionally to the nausea and headache already plaguing him, a third, even more annoying and useless source of pain joined as he held his arms over his stomach. The dread he held for this Saturday caused a stomach ache to plague his already plagued body.

★≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺★

Kiyosumi wanted to die.

Not seriously, or at least not entirely seriously, but he didn't remember the last time he had felt so bad, so useless, so stupid so.... So weak.

He was often brushed off and disliked by many as just some cocky karateka asshole who was way too arrogant and needed to be taken down a notch, and while partially, it was true (He was both a karateka and an asshole after all), he was also incredibly insecure and, towards people he actually respected, oftentimes almost soft.

Like baki. In the begining, he had thought of the boy as some arrogant 17 year old, but now, things we're different. He admired the boy's ability to fight and his unbelievable strength. It was a bit similar to how he felt about Katsumi.

Sure, he was the grandmaster's son, and sometimes, too cocky to be likeable, but he was also an incredibly kind and strong man that Katou had long admired, and who astounded him when he asked for Katou to act as his master.

Of course Kiyosumi being Kiyosumi had acted as if it was no biggie, but in reality, he had been really proud of himself that Katsumi admired him enough to make him his master, even if it was just for short.

All this to say that Kiyosumi was by no means 100% some cocky asshole, he was often rude, but he had other moments too and he wasn't ashamed of that.

Right now though.... Right now he was ashamed. He had never done as horrible during training as he had now, it disgusted him and made him feel weak and he hated it.

He didn't even bother changing out of his gi, his apartment wasn't far and it was smer so he had only taken off his jacket while keeping on his wife beater that hugged his upper body tightly. Before he could leave however, Suredo peeked his head into the changing room, making Kiyosumi scoff as he didn't even make eye contact.

"Yoy wanna go out and get a beer?"

The large redhead asked as Katou looked like he was deep in thought before saying he had beer at home. Atsushi nodded slowly as Katou wanted to brush past him only to be stopped.

"You wanna drink at your place?"

An all too familiar need arose from deep within his brain as he huffed, but nodded, Atsushi following his 'comrade' to said man's apartment.

And then it began.

Soft, almost sensual kisses against eachother's faces and lips, necks and throats as Kiyosumi was seated on his dresser by Atsushi who's never ending sloppy, insecure but incredibly affectionate actions gave Kiyosumi some warming ease that separated him from the anxiety and that seemed to stop him from spiraling into what might've become a depressive episode.

Sure, mental issues were no simple thing easily stopped by a bit of affection, but this kind of affection at least caused his mind to be focused on other things than the dreaded feeling of weakness and uselessness.

And when he was pinned down on his futon, his muscular calves caging in Atsushi's waist, both him and the man currently working on bringing both of them closer and closer to release moaning and groaning, he only thought about that.

How good it felt, how warm he felt, how dizzy he was but how good even that felt. Even afterwards, when he was sticky with his own semen and smoking a cigarette, his mind was fairly calm, atsushi laying by his side, holding him.

It was pretty nice.

Kiyosumi would never say that, but he liked this, however, he was unusually needy and touchy in the moment, so Suedo understood him just fine, even without words.

And then, he raked his hands through katou's damp and sweaty hair, asking him what was going on in a surprisingly non-chalant way. Neither his caring and sweet actions, nor him asking was normal for this man, but Suedo couldn't help it.

Kiyosumi took a long drag of his cigarette before putting it out and rolling onto his side as Suedo huffed before hugging the black haired man close.

In the middle of the night, Kiyosumi just randomly woke up, turning his body which caused the sheets to shuffle with his muscular form as he looked at Suedo's sleeping face illuminated by the moonlight.

Biting his bottom lip, kiyosumi curled up again, all that peace of mind leaving as soon as he once again came to the realization of what he had done like how he did every.single.time.

God, kiyosumi felt so pathetic.

>≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺<

"Kiyosumi, I'm glad you came!"

Cringing at her high pitched voice, Kiyosumi gave his sister a soft glare before putting out his cigarette as the both of them headed into the house in front of them, the door opening upon his sisters ringing of the door bell.

"Oh dear, you two came! I'm glad!"

The short, frail looking woman said, smiling up at her children before gently cupping kiyosumi's face.

"My, what a handsome young man, you look just like your father-"

"Mom, let him get inside first."

Hana said, gently swatting at her mother's wrists, the woman nodding, releasing kiyosumi's face, the man clenching his jaw. He hated when his mother did that.

Both him and Hana took their shoes off, the black haired woman putting them away neatly just like him. He was good mannered when it came to certain things, after all.

Once inside, he handed off a messily wrapped gift to Keichi, wishing his younger brother a happy birthday as the young man beamed with joy, smiling at the man he admired.

God how Kiyosumi both hated and loved that stare.

He loved it because,especially when he and Keichi were younger, he always protected his little brother and just loved the way said boy's whole face would light up with admiration when he saw him. He'll yeah, he really was the world's coolest older brother, that's right Keichi, and don't you forget it! Call him strong again, go on, he really was insanely strong, wasn't he? Even if a certain grandmaster rarely acknowledged it.

It started in high school that he began disliking it deeply. Sure, he was still cocky about how strong he was like before, but now there were... Other things. His constant smoking, boozing, fucking, those were things he didn't want his younger brother to do.

Sure, they made Kiyosumi cool, (except for the last one, because this was before he would've ever tried having sex with men and he was incredibly awkward during and after sex with women since, well, he just wasn't really meant for it) but they could easily fuck up Keichi's life.

And then, after his first time having sex with another man (Probably someone from the dojo), he began absolutely fucking hating it. How could his little brother look at him with such admiration when he did something so shameful and wrong....?

It would've baffled anyone else to find out that Kiyosumi Katou hated being admired, since, at the dojo, he looooved whenever anyone even praised him and was generally pretty cocky, it even baffled Kiyosumi a bit now like he'd ever admit it, but it was probably because of their parents.

Kiyosumi came from a rather traditional family, A salary man father, a housewife mother and two siblings, his life could've been lived pretty normal. Except for the fact that his parents, despite their plain jobs and normal appearances behaved in ways that would surely cause at least some heads to turn.

Take his father for example; Hardworking salary man that used the weekend to unwind and go on camping or fishing trips, spending little time with his family, and when he did, usually just being a rather stoic, not very emotional man. He never really did much with Kiyosumi, other than occasionally taking an hour on a Sunday to teach him basic 'manly' skills, which to his father meant, teaching him mechanical things, maybe helping with mathematics homework and one time very reluctantly taking him out to fish.

His mother, whom most people pitied because they thought she was some poor, unloved housewife, was one of the most mentally unstable people he'd ever met, and while he partially felt bad for how his father treated her, he couldn't handle her outburst.

She could go from being overly affectionate, mainly physically, to the point it started freaking Kiyosumi out, to crying and screaming at them for the smallest slip up and just looking at them and treating them with disgust. Sometimes she'd just sit at the kitchen table, crying about why her husband didn't love her until Hana would just come up and try to escort her mother to the bedroom so the woman could sleep.

In those moments when his mother had her breakdowns, he felt bad for Keichi who was completely overwhelmed by all of this. Not like Kiyosumi ever did anything to comfort him, he'd just leave and go to the dojo or hang out with his delinquent buddies, but he felt bad, he truly did.

"Thank's Kiyo!"

Keichi cheered, clearly excited over the gift as Hana nodded with a small hum of surprise that her younger brother actually managed to get Keichi a gift. Kiyosumi just gave a curt nod before the four of them sat down for tea and cake, his mother smiling, her hands folded in her lap, the table next to her also set as he took in her appearance and realized she had dolled herself up a bit, wearing makeup and jewelry, her long black hair down instead of in its usual bun.

"Your father promised to join us later!"

She excitedly announced as Keichi smiled happily. Out of the three, he was the one who craved their parents attention the most. And while Hana tried to uphold at least basic communication and social interaction, Kiyosumi just completely ignored them.

"Now, how are you doing? Hana, have you found a boyfriend yet, because my friend, she has this son, around your age, you used to play together-"

"I have a girlfriend, mom. You've met Chiyo before, I don't need a boyfriend."

His mother frowned a bit.

"Hana,you can't possibly expect to be happy with a girl by your side. What about children,how will you have those?"

"We can adopt or maybe, I just don't want kids? Not every woman has to live that picket fence dream, you know that, right?"

The woman responded, clearly annoyed with her mothers old fashioned attitude as the woman told Hana not to paint her out to be the villain.

"I'm just worried, that's all, don't be mad at your mother for worrying!"

She said, her voice taking on the hurt one she always put on when she wanted to act like the victim. Kiyosumi hated it, but he just clicked his tongue slightly. Goddammit he needed a cigarette right now.

Then, his mother continued trying to make small talk, Keichi and Hana joining in, but Kiyosumi couldn't care less.

"Ah, Kiyo, how about you? You're doing so much of that karate, you've become such a good man, are there any cute girl's you're interested in?"

"No."

"Well, I suppose it's just like in middle school. All you cared about is that karate, I guess that means there's no space in your life."

His mother chuckled.

"But I know this other woman, her daughter is such a good girl, I'm sure you two would be a perfect pair! Why don't I give you her number, hmm? Or even better, she could come over and-"

"No. I'm not interested-"

"Oh don't be like that, I'm sure once you meet her-"

"Mom, I said I'm not-"

"But you can't be happy with just that karate! A young man like you should experience love, you should kiss and go on dates and-"

Kiyosumi clicked his fingers against his thigh, clearly starting to get annoyed, but before he could scream at her, Keichi interrupted them both.

"I-I met somebody too!"

Silence.

Kiyosumi raised a brow at his younger brother's flustered behaviour before the boy spoke up again.

"They're really kind and sweet and I wanted to maybe...introduce them to you today-"

"They're? Do you mean she?"

Kiyosumi scoffed as Hana elbowed him in the side and Keichi froze over.

"Uhmm...I..."

"That's wonderful news, I'm sure she's a lovely girl! Why didn't you tell me about her earlier?"

"Because it's not a girl."

Hana smacked Kiyosumi over the back of the head at this statement,the man just glaring at her as her mother looked at Keichi in confusion.

"Keichi, she's a girl, right?"

"Yes..."

He sounded like he wanted to add something,but he didn't,kiyosumi's dark eyes picking up on how his younger brother let his nails sink into his thighs.

And then, just as Keichi seemed to reach a certain determination to speak up again, the front door opened, which seemed to turn their mother into a whole different person as she rushed to the door to greet her husband and kiyosumi scoffed while Hana squeezed Keichi's hand under the table.

"It's fine if it's not a girl Keichi."

"It is a girl!"

The young man's insistance made his statement seem less true, but Kiyosumi couldn't care less. Or at least that's what he told himself.

Once his father and mother entered the room again, what ensued was the worst dinner Kiyosumi had ever had, but despite his uncaring attitude,he could tell it was worse for Keichi.

Fiddling with his fingers, the boy seemed overly anxious to say something that never made it past his lips, and Kiyosumi kind of wanted to tell him to man up and say something, but he refrained. Why should he care?

Eventually,the pressure seemed to wear him down enough so that he finally spoke.

"I'm not...I don't feel like Keichi anymore. Now that I'm eighteen, I think I can finally say it with certainty."

Kiyosumi quirked a brow.

"The hell you mean, you don't feel like Keichi anymore?"

He asked, his mother looking at Keichi and his father between short, worried glances.

"What are you saying sweetheart-"

"I'm not a man. I don't feel like a man."

And once again during the short time the five of them had been together in the tidy living room, there was silence.

"Oh, that's perfectly normal, congratulations on coming out-"

"So, what, you're a crossdresser? A ladyboy?"

His father's words were disgusted both in tone and what he chose to say as he wiped his mouth with his paper towel before getting up.

"Darling, please, I'm sure he didn't- K-Keichi, you don't mean it, yeah? You mean, you're a bit feminine, right? You're still my son, right?"

Kiyosumi just looked at Keichi in confusion. This was... Was Keichi Transgender?

He had heard of that, probably from Katsumi or something.

It was almost a bit funny to Kiyosumi if he was honest to himself, that both of his parents were so old fashioned and homophobic, and his sister was a lesbian, he was, though he'd never openly admit it, gay, and his little brother turned out to not be a brother at all.

"No it's nothing like that, I'm not... I'm not a crossdresser or anything. I don't feel like a guy or a girl I just-"

Keichi was babbling,cleaely sweaty as keichi tried explaining keichi's feelings.

"Oh, you're non binary, that's completely normal!"

Hana assured Keichi who, in all of Keichi's panic looked at Kiyosumi for help.

There it was.

That look they had always given him when their mother had a break down.

Sadly for Keichi, Kiyosumi still wasn't one for comforting, so he grumbled something about smoking, getting up and going outside as Hana looked after him in disappointment while she tried comforting Keichi.

Their mother was a sobbing mess at this point,asking the world how she deserved this, begging Keichi to say they were joking and to apologize to their father.

Meanwhile, Kiyosumi was standing outside, having a smoke, Hana eventually leaving, screaming at their mother how insensitive she was and whatever, brushing right past Kiyosumi, Keichi stumbling out until they stood by their brother's side.

"Kiyo... Is there something wrong with me?"

Oh god keichi shouldn't be so vulnerable around Kiyosumi. The Japanese man took a long, maybe even too long, drag of his cigarette before staring at Keichi.

"I don't know man."

Upon Keichi's crying, Kiyosumi lazily wrapped an arm around Keichi, before telling them not to listen to their mother.

"Look I won't... I won't pretend to be super supportive or whatever. I don't care if you're my brother or sister or whatever,we never hang out anyway."

He put his cigarette out on the wall, right next to him before just staying quiet as Keichi sobbed into his chest.

This was part of why he didn't want Keichi to look up to him.

Part of him believed that what he hated most about himself, who he loved and who he was had influenced Keichi like this and he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.

And yet, he also felt jealous. His younger sibling, who had always looked up to him had managed to tell both of their pparents something like that, while Kiyosumi still hid that he wasn't interested in women one bit out of sheer and utter fear. How pathetic.

"W-Will they hate me now...?"

Keichi sniffled and Kiyosumi shrugged.

"Yeah. But who cares anyway."

Keichi's crying increased as Kiyosumi said something that shocked him even more than it did Keichi.

"Why don't you come to the shinshinkai with me?"

He wasn't even sure why he said it, maybe because he had found comfort in the dojo?

Maybe because he saw doppo and natsue as better alternatives to his parents? He had no idea. But before he could take the words back, Keichi spoke.

"I'd really love that."

Well fuck.

Now he couldn't take it back.

But, he thought, maybe it'd be fine. Maybe they'd have a good time, maybe Kiyosumi could feel good and like not so much of a disappointment with his younger sibling there to admire him.

Yeah, he liked that idea, so much so, it managed to make him smile a bit, so much so that it managed to make his stress and anger momentarily melt away as for the first time in years, he felt like an actual good, respectable older brother.

He liked it a lot.