#maybe stolen isn’t the right word but please I put the effort in

[chaotic-mystery]

Pairing: dbf!joel x f!reader

Summary: The next morning you wake up confused about the previous night. You have to start making your life better, and doing tequila shots the first night home didn’t help.

Content warnings: eventual smut, 18+ only mdni!, eventual smut, mean Joel, enemies to lovers, daddy issues galore, swearing, hangovers, red thongs trying to be stolen, reader tried to smack Joel but that didn’t end good, Joel was nice for like 2 seconds, then mean Joel came out.

Word Count: 3.3K

A/N: Thank you all for the patience with me on this! I’m so ready to continue and show you were this is going. I love you. Enjoy 🖤

With the morning sun pouring into your small bedroom window, you felt a leg under yours, brows furrowed at the spare body parts. Fuck. What did I do last night? You lift your head and turn it to the right, noticing the messy head of black curls and suddenly your eyes go wide. Tommy. Did I fuck Tommy last night? Soft snores came from his body while he lay there completely unaware of your internal panicking. 

Tucking in your arms under you to give you a boost up and out of bed, Tommy rolls over and grabs the pillow, suffocating it between his arms and chest. As you stand there with your hand covering your mouth, you wondered just how you got yourself into this mess. Maybe it was the tequila shots, maybe it wasn’t. Who’s to say? 

It was in fact, the tequila shots. 

How could you have been so careless, having sex with the second good looking guy you laid eyes on the moment you got back home. First, first good looking guy you laid your eyes on. 

The bathroom door closes behind you and you press your back against it, mind racing at how to handle this whole situation. Your feet tapped against the cold tile as you paced back and forth. 

What were you going to tell Tommy when he woke up thinking you wanted to be something, expecting to be a regular sleeper in your bed? 

Your hand covers your mouth in disbelief. What the fuck am I gonna do?

A deep breath enters your lungs as a boost of confidence that you can be straightforward with him about this. I’ve got this. You grab the doorknob and turn it to open the door, head poking out first to find Tommy still snoring away. He didn’t move one bit. Lightly tapping his shoulder, you grew impatient at the efforts going to waste. This wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t have to go job hunting today, like you promised yourself you would. 

With your bunny slippers trampling through the damp grass to Joel’s front door, you adjusted and tightened your robe only about a million times to make sure nothing was showing or sticking out. It was already 9:33 A.M, surely Joel has been awake for hours, right? He’s an older man and they are always up early for who fucking knows what. With your hand switching from beating on the door and ringing the doorbell, someone was bound to answer. The front door flies open to a very grumpy looking Joel, yanking down the rest of his shirt to cover his abdomen. 

“Can you please come get your brother from my bed? I need to go job hunting today and he isn’t waking up. It may have something to do with the tequila shots.” You scratched the back of your neck, too embarrassed to look at him.

A scoff leaves his lips and he shakes his head slowly. “Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. Talk to me all crazy n’ shit last night but now you need my help for your benefit? And for the record, I don’t doubt he’s still sleeping. I fuckin’ heard you two going at it all night after I specifically told you not to keep me up all night. So no, I’m not helping. See ya.” The door was just about closed when you put your hand between it and the door frame to make Joel choose whether or not he wanted to crush your hand. 

“Move. Your hand.” His nostrils flared slightly, his eyes shooting daggers into you. 

“No. Come get your brother or I’ll make being my neighbor a living hell for you.” No more jokes, no more bullshit was coming from you. If you didn’t find a job soon, you’d just be giving your dad more ammunition to use in the future when he talks about how disappointed he is with you. 

Joel’s fingers tapped against the door while he contemplated if he wanted to get roped into this or not. “I swear to fuckin’ god little girl, this better be the first and last time I’m gonna have to do this. Don’t drag him into your shit.” With one swift move he was walking down the porch steps on his way to your bedroom, muttering some bullshit under his breath. When he reaches your room he notices the door slightly shut and he looks to you to tell him to go in. “He’s not..naked…is he?” He whispers to you.

“Not that I’m aware of…but now that you mention it I don't remember honestly.” You whispered back, staring at the ground. 

The amount of restraint Joel had to use to not shout at you right then and there for not remembering was astronomical. His calloused palm flies to his forehead and smacks it roughly. “You are a pain in my fuckin’ ass and you haven’t even been here a week!” He whispers louder at you as he shoves the door open and takes a few steps inside. With his hand covering his eyes in case his younger brother's bare ass was out, he stopped where he felt was the middle of your room. 

“Tommy, get up. Cmon. Get dressed. Up, let’s go.” His foot reached out until it stopped on the box spring and he nudged it a few times to get Tommy moving. Soon enough Tommy rolled over and took the sheet with him, his black boxers poking out slightly. 

“Would you stop, he’s not naked.” You hiss and yank Joel’s hand off his face. A small gasp came from him as he opened his eyes and was met with a still half asleep Tommy. 

“Tommy, let’s go man; wake your ass up!” Joel groans and shakes the hell out of his shoulder, obtaining groans from his brother. 

He turns his head upwards to look at Joel, eyes slowly blinking open. “Joel? What’re you doin’- wait, did we tag team her like we did that one g-” His words were immediately ceased with Joel’s hand covering Tommy’s lips quickly, loud shushing drowning out his voice. “Get up, we’re leaving so Miss princess can go find a job and be a productive member of society like the rest of us common folk.” Joel bent down and threw whatever clothes were in a pile by his feet at Tommy, hoping and praying he’d get dressed and they can get the hell outta there and Joel can get on with his day. 

“This isn’t mine, but I’d love to keep it..” Tommy held up your red thong from the previous night's escapades and your face got feverish to the touch, your hands covering your face to shield you from the embarrassment. 

Joel smacks the back of his head and tells him to knock it off. “Hurry up, I’ll be back at the house. He turns to look at you who still had your face covered. With a firm bump of his forearm against yours, you lowered them and sighed. 

“For your sake and mine, don’t invite him over again. Next time he’s your problem to deal with.” Surprisingly to you his tone wasn’t harsh for once, more of a sympathetic ring to it this time. 

“Ye-yeah I won’t. Thanks again.” Taken aback by his semi sweet piece of advice, you nodded towards the door. “I should let you out so you can get back to your day.” With your hands in your back pockets as you walked him to the front door, you could still hear Tommy stomping around upstairs, trying what sounded like putting on his shoes. You looked at your phone to see if you missed any new texts from your dad, not a single message. You told him you’d be finding a job today but did he care to respond, tell you good luck, anything? No. Why would he? Joel must’ve been able to tell something was wrong because his frame softened along with his face, brows unfurrowed. 

“You uh..you okay?” He asked, cocking his head to the side just a tad to see your face while you looked at your phone. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” you coldly answer, pushing the front screen door open for him. He wanted to press the situation further but stopped himself. It was no secret you were bothered by something but he couldn't guess what it was. “I’m going to your dads here in a bit to talk about where he wants this fuckin’ pool for Janet.” His brown eyes rolled slightly as he let out a breathy chuckle. With his hand pressed against the screen door to prop it open and walk out to the porch, Joel stops and stands still for a moment before turning back around to look at you. 

“You sure nothin’ is wron-” 

He was cut off by Tommy marching down your stairs to the front door, stopping in front of you. “You, little lady. No more tequila shots for me, ever again.” He laughs, his gorgeous smile playing to his lips. Your stomach started to turn and have a funny feeling inside. Maybe it was the fact you really weren’t all that interested in Tommy. Yeah you banged him last night, but before that happened you two sat up for hours and talked while pouring sloppy shots of more tequila. He told you about him and how he worked so closely with Joel, his beautiful niece Sarah and how she was like the daughter he never had. 

“So maybe I’ll see you later?” The eagerness in his voice was so prominent it hurt that much more. “Uhh..maybe. We’ll talk soon, promise.” 

You kiss his cheek and send him and Joel on their way back across the grass to Joel’s house. 

Frustration and confusion course through your veins while you press your back against the front door, trying to make sense of what’s happened within the last 48 hours. It was almost 10:30 when you realized you should probably wash yourself before you go out all afternoon. 

With just enough time to spare to smoke a cigarette to calm your nerves before leaving the house, you look over to Joel’s driveway and see his truck is gone. He was probably at your dads house by now, telling him all about this morning and how you’re the worst neighbor already. Who cares what your dad has to say to that though, you’re a grown ass adult and you can do what you want. 

You smooth your hair down one last time in the reflection of the window before you flick the half smoked cigarette and blow the smoke from your mouth. Reaching into your purse you pull out the squashed packet of gum that was half gone. The sweet notes of mint dance to your nose as you unwrap the piece and toss it in your mouth, discarding the paper back into the package. Still no message from your dad the last time you checked. You probably should’ve never messaged him about it, he was never going to care like he pretends. Getting in your car and cranking the air and still painfully getting used to the heat once again, you put on your music and begin driving around all over town to find a decent job somewhere in this hellhole.

With the afternoon sun slowly going down, you huffed as you sunk back into your car after being denied from the seventh business to get a job. You could feel your luck fading with every declining response, the fear of being more of a disappointment creeping up on you like a scary shadow in the dark. The warm steering wheel held your head as you leaned forward to take a breath. 

Back at your dad’s house, Joel’s putting his things away back in his little tool bag he carries in his truck for shit like this. He hates being unprepared, it’s not a good look for himself. 

“So have you talked to your daughter recently?” Joel casually brings up as he puts away his tape measure. 

“Yeah, she texted me earlier this morning about finding a job but I don’t know about all that. She’s not what these people are lookin’ for. She’s always late and she flakes, she can never amount to anything and she doesn’t put her mind to it. She quits when the going gets tough, s’why she ran away from here all those years ago to follow her mother across the country. Told her it was a stupid idea and she’d regret it and now look where she’s at. Back here in Texas with me.” Your dad laughs like anything he just said was remotely funny. Joel stopped putting tools away the moment your dad started to talk shit about his own flesh and blood, the only one of his kids that continues to acknowledge his existence. Even though Joel was still very pissed about last night and this morning, he didn’t think it was right for your dad to be talking about you like that, especially to him, a complete stranger to you. 

He had to bite the inside of his cheek as he thought long and hard about what to say next. 

“But you did respond and tell her good luck or somethin’ right? Sure she’s nervous and it sounds like she wants to get it right this time.” He looks over at your dad who was watching the birds fly away from the trees, his red polarized sunglasses he got from the gas station years ago shielding his eyes from Joel’s. 

“No, I didn’t. She’ll be fine. Can’t hold her hand forever Joel. Plus I don’t know if they’d want her to work for them. They all heard the same thing I told you, can’t help that I know everyone in town and they wanna know my life.” He laughs again and Joel can feel his jaw clench together. 

“Alan, man cmon that’s messed up. You just said you can’t hold her hand forever but you aren’t helping her grow up either by doin’ that.”

Your dad just waves Joel off and chuckles, turning to look at him, “She’ll be fine.” Something told Joel you wouldn’t be though. 

On your drive home you skipped going back to your cozy hideaway and opted for the bar from last night, just having a taste for a beer. A single beer, no more tequila shots…for now. You sit down on the stool and turn yourself until you’re facing the bartender who just happened to be Michelle. There was a gnawing feeling at you, like you needed to apologize for putting Joel in a funk last night. 

“What can I getcha sweeth-” Her words silenced when she was face to face with you. Giving her a small wave, you took a deep breath, trying not to mix up your words. “I think we got off on the wrong foot and I’d really like to start over. I didn’t mean to step on your toes last night about your bar. I think it’s cute and for the record, Joel isn’t watching over me, he’s my dads best friend and yes we’re neighbors but I don’t want to fuck him and he doesn’t want to fuck me- he actually can’t even stand to be around me and that’s mutual so I-” 

“Okay, enough- stop it!” Michelle raises her voice and looks at you closely. 

“What do you care if I like you or not darlin’?” 

Your fingers comb your hair back and fall to the bar top, smoothing over an imperfection you managed to find. “I don’t want bad blood with anyone, that’s all. I’m already having a tough time finding a job and my dad- I’m sorry. I don’t mean to dump my problems onto you. I just don’t want the list of people wishing to see me fall on my ass grow. She was pouring you a diet coke and tossed a little straw in it, setting it down in front of you before leaning on her hands that were on the curve of the bar top. 

“You said you needed a job?” The fizzy drink rolls down your throat and you nod fast. You can see she’s thinking of something in her head, the way she's biting at her fingernail slightly and her eyes are scanning back and forth.

“Come back tonight for training and wear something sexy but nothing too crazy..it’s a bar not a porno.” Michelle raises an eyebrow at you and walks to the back with empty bottles, leaving you sitting in the stool alone and your half drank coke dripping with condensation. With your lips fishing for the straw, you sucked the rest of the liquid down and left a ten dollar bill under the cup and immediately got into your car to drive home. 

As you pull up to your house, you notice Joel’s truck is still gone, and no Sarah in sight. Wonder where she is…

Almost all of your clothes were tossed onto the floor while you tried to piece together a cute outfit. You landed on a black pleather halter top with laces in the front and black skin tight pleather pants. The black cowgirl boots your mom got you as a joke were finally making their way out of the box and onto some concrete. As you curled your hair and put it in a messy Pam Anderson inspired bun, you felt sexier than ever in weeks, maybe months. Bartending was all new to you but you’d like to think you learned new stuff quickly. With all of your touchup makeup packed away and about ten sprays of body spray, you were ready. 

The gravel in Joel’s driveway crunched under his tires and he put it in park. You peaked from the bathroom window so he wouldn’t see you, it looked like he was on the phone. 

Your chunky boot heels thump against the stairs and off you were out the door, ready to go to the first job you’ve been scared of doing. You cover your eyes from the warm setting sun and look at Joel through his truck window. He sighed and got out, immediately growing and looking away. “Where in the hell are you going? You better not be goin’ to Tommy’s I swe-” 

“Uuugh nooo I’m not and if I was, who are you to stop me?” You fire back, your purse dangling slightly. 

“Hey! I’m just trying- you know what? Forget it. How did the um..job hunting go?” Still not looking directly at you but in your direction, you told him how shitty it was. “Well um ya see..”

“But it’s totally okay because I stopped at Michelle's bar on the way home and she offered me a job. That’s where I’m going right now actually!” The excitement dripping from your words was like nails on a chalkboard to him considering how wide his eyes got. 

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ jokin’. You can’t seriously be working there?” He rubs his eyes out of frustration and groans loudly. Your smile slowly faded and you could feel the fiery ball of anger growing inside you. 

“What is the fucking issue?”

“Do you have to be everywhere in my life every damn time I turn around, Jesus christ! I mean, the first night you’re here you’re dumped on me and then you bang my brother, insult my girl’s bar and then turn around and work there? What goes through your fucking head sometimes?”

He puts his hand on his hips and stares at you, waiting for some sort of answer. You meet him halfway in the grass right on the property line and raise your hand to smack him for talking to you like that when he catches your wrist in midair, shoving it back down to your side.

“Fuck you! I didn’t ask for him to dump me on you! Newsflash, you’re friends with a dickhead! Michelle was the one who hired me and last time I checked it’s her bar, old man. Not yours. See you fucking never, asshole.” Just when you felt a sliver of hope of maybe ever mending this weird thing with Joel, he shoves his foot in his mouth and misspeaks, taking you right back to square one of not liking him. 

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #daddy joel #dbf!joel #dbf! joel miller #dbf joel miller x f reader #joel the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #code red #chaotic mystery

[dodo-begone]

Crotch Goblins

Pairing: Purpled x Reader, Ranboo x Reader, Tommy x Reader, Tubbo x Reader

Request: wait would it be cringe if i like. requested your take on the yandere kids

Word Count: 1.6K

Warning: yandere, fighting mentioned, stalking, fear of abandonment, anxiety, stealing, kidnapping, the egg

A/N: This is all platonic! Nothing romantic.

Ranboo

This poor child lives in constant fear of forgetting you. His memory issues are a big problem and it affects everybody he loves. And his anxiety definitely doesn’t help his situation; it only feeds his paranoia of losing you.

To prevent losing any precious memories of you, he’ll write down so much about you. He’d probably have books on books just dedicated to things about you he wants to remember. Another way to always remember you is to never be away from you! It’s much harder to forget somebody if you’re constantly around them!

If you allow it, he’ll fucking cling to you. He loves the attention and reassurance you give him. Aw yeah he's a poor memory boy and constantly scared of Dream and enderwalking. Please stay by him??? Pretty please??

He’ll occasionally come over to your house in search of your company. Though he won’t tell you that directly. It’ll be under the pretense that he’s very scared of something happening and wanted to stay with you for some comfort. Not all of that’s a lie though. He always goes to you when he’s anxious; you’re his safe place. You make everything right and good again. You found it rather endearing that he trusted and liked you so much. Baked treats would always be on standby for his visits.

He’ll occasionally come over to your house in search of your company. Though he won’t tell you that directly. It’ll be under the pretense that he’s very scared of something happening and wanted to stay with you for some comfort. Not all of that’s a lie though. He always goes to you when he’s anxious; you’re his safe place. You make everything right and good again. You found it rather endearing that he trusted and liked you so much. Baked treats would always be on standby for his visits.

He’ll slowly start to stay at your house for longer and come back quicker. Soon he’s practically living with you. You’re not bothered by it at first, and you don’t think about it after a while. The domesticity of the situation just feels right. Why would you disrupt something like this?? And he deserves some of this. After all, the dsmp isn’t a nice place, and especially not to Ranboo. Why don’t you just let him have this?

Tommy

Tommy lives in constant fear of you abandoning him. Or worse, having someone take you from him. He’s lost so many loved ones already, and he doesn’t know how many more he can live through. You’re one of his most prized possessions, besides Tubbo and the Disks. Above Tubbo, but a close contender with the disks.

He’s gonna be clingy af. And he’ll do anything you want him to. By that, he really means anything he thinks you’d want him to do or something that’s “necessary”. Overall it’s just bad stuff. Be prepared for some warfare to happen just for you.

No thought, only fighting. Fights will break out over the silliest things. Like he wants attention from you? Fight! Someone getting too close?? Begone thot!! This is his friend! Not theirs! Back off.

After every fight, you’ll bandage his wounds while lecturing him. Not a single thing you say will be properly heard by Tommy. Your words would slur together in his ears, turning themselves into a beautiful song. Did you know your voice sounds really good? Oh yeah, you make the pain go away so quickly too. Your medical skills are just so fucking good, can’t you see?

There will be no question that he’d steal for you; he’d do it without question or request. If he finds anything that you might like or need? Yoinked as soon as the old owner isn’t looking. Finders keepers, after all. The smp is a dog-eat-dog world. And you deserve the fucking best shit man. If you find out it’s stolen, you’d return it in a heartbeat with so many apologies. You somehow found it somewhere and you didn’t know it was theirs. Wow you must like Tommy if you’re covering for him like that!

You’d be dragged around by Tommy on some days. All a grand tour to show you his creations, and he begrudgingly shows you some of the builds by the others. He feels somewhat inadequate when he eventually shows you his stuff. Like his multiple cobblestone towers. But you’re giving such nice compliments for each one. And they’re all so unique too. No two compliments are the same. He is a really good builder, huh?

Tubbo

He’s going to be protective of you. Not overbearingly so, but definitely is watching out for your safety a ton. With him having watched the lives of those he loves fall apart around them, he doesn’t want the same fate to fall upon you. He can’t go through that cycle again, and especially so soon. You’re so nice too. You definitely don’t deserve that fate.

Micheal took a liking to you really quickly. If Micheal likes you, that means that you’re a part of the family. He doesn’t care what you have to say, it’s just facts. You have a problem with it? Try bringing that up to Micheal. Want to tell him that you aren’t a part of the family? Exactly. So that means that you are a member.

Oh and you help him so much, which he’s thankful for. And it’s not just to a specific type of task either. You help with everything. Building, cooking, caring for Micheal, the whole biz. With you doing so much and putting so much effort into everything, that must mean that you love him like he loves you, right? Nobody does this much for somebody else without loving them. So the obvious answer is that you love him back!

Will do anything in his power to convince you to move in with him, Ranboo and Micheal. Like really hard. He pulled all of the charms and stops. And there’s a very slim chance that you didn’t move in. Though you would eventually. There isn’t a chance in hell that you wouldn’t be living in that house by some point. You’d be moving in with or without your consent. Maybe one day you just woke up in the mansion. Oh hey why do you look so confused? You agreed to move in already silly, don’t you remember?

There’s no and, if, or buts about it; he’d get Ranboo in on it also if he wasn’t already. They’re platonically married after all. And the three of you are all friends. So it’s obvious that Ranboo would be in on it as well. If he isn’t, then he’d turn a blind eye to Tubbo’s behavior. Huh, yeah he didn’t notice that at all. Nope, nothing odd happening here.

Would absolutely get you to help him on every little task that he could. Especially with building and taking care of little Micheal. The builds would be little cottage core stuff. Such sweet and quaint things. Not too much or too hard, but very pleasing to the eyes and the feeling of accomplishment the two of you got at the end of the project felt incredible. Children can be such a handful too, so any help for Micheal will be much appreciated. Plus it’s so much fun to play with children, especially children in Micheal’s age group. The more time you spend with them, the less time you have to spend with anyone else. Which leads to a smaller chance of being taken from them.

Purpled

This man? Oh he’s so fucking happy that you and him don’t have many relations outside of each other. It’s so much easier for you two. Since you two are so close, it’s easy to coerce you into living with him. Yeah it may be far from the rest of the smp, but that’s okay. It’s not like you had any friends there. It’s easier to stay safer so far away from everything. And you know what’s even better? Nobody would even notice y’all disappear!

Before y’all moved away, he always conveniently showed up at random times. It was always during times when you were alone or felt alone. Really helped you there; made you feel loved that somebody noticed and was there for you. Though it was odd how often he appeared at just the right moment. You wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth though.

He always knows what to get you. What your favorite flowers are, what food you like, what your favorite color is, your favorite gift items. He even knows your dislikes. Even the ones you don’t tell him. You know, anything a good friend would know.

If somebody even remotely offends/scares/harms you, they’re in fucking trouble. That? Yeah, that’s a valid reason to start a fight. He’ll beat them within an inch of their life and threaten to do it again if they even thought of hurting you like that. >:( Definitely got them to stop talking to you.

Since he’s working for the egg, he feels like the egg could maybe protect you?? Yeah he’s not completely under its control and he sees how crazy the other members of the eggpire are, but it can’t be that bad. The others are just praising it, talking about how it could make all of his deepest desires a reality. Not many people like going to the egg, and they wouldn’t be looking for prisoners there. So it should be safe for you. Well, safer than the outside world. And his deepest desire is your safety and love, so that should be easy to gain if he brought you to the egg, right?

There is no question: he’d kidnap you to bring you to the egg. Though it’ll be after a while of trying to persuade you to come with him for that. You heard so many horrible things about the egg, so it’d be better if you didn’t get involved with that. So if his attempts to get you to the egg fail, then some forceful measures will be used. It was for your best interest after all.

#c: purpled #c: tommy #c: tubbo #c: ranboo #tw: yandere #dodo writing #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #purpled x reader #ranboo x reader #tommy x reader #tubbo x reader #yandere #tw: fighting #tw: stalking #tw: anxiety #tw: stealing #tw: kidnapping

[acapelladitty]

Heisenberg/Reader fic (nsfw)

(please check the link below to see all tags and warnings)

Full fic is also available on AO3 here

His hands are warm against your shoulders as he pins you into place with both his grasp and his stare, “Before I lock you in,” there is a slight hesitancy in his voice which isn’t common and it has your full attention, “if something fucks up then you let me know straight away so I can scrap it. Can’t go breaking my favourite toy before I’m finished with it.”

It was an attempt at humour, and you smile along with him, soothing his concealed anxieties as your hands come to rest on his chest. Both fully clothed, you knew you wouldn’t remain that way for long and the anticipation of your game was heady as he accepted your touch as consent.

“Good girl.” He purrs, the words low in his chest, “Then strip and we’ll see just how much you can take.”

The instruction sends a shiver down your spine, and you follow his command; first to go is your shirt as you carelessly pull it overhead before dropping it to the floor and you quickly follow by unclipping the back of your skirt, allowing the fabric to slip to the floor without difficulty.

A low grumble escapes his throat as he takes in your exposed core, your decision to not wear any underwear having the desired effect as you stand there and await his next instruction, the warm air of the room dancing across your skin pleasantly.

His hands come to rest on your hips, gripping the flesh there almost painfully as he guides you backwards until your ass hits upon the stocks which you will be encased within.

“Well don’t just stand there,” he growls, “assume the position so I can lock you in.”

Breaking from his grip you move around to the other side of the metal stocks and place your head and hands within the holes there, each one specifically moulded to fit you perfectly and wide enough to not be too uncomfortable with prolonged use. The height of the stocks is low, requiring you to bend your body at a right angle to fit within them; a move which leaves you fully exposed as you spread your legs to ease the ache on your lower back.

In position, you glance up at him and you can imagine how pleasant you must look, spread out and vulnerable as you were to his every whim and command. A sound of metal locking lets you know that you are now firmly trapped in place as he drops to one knee before you.

Caressing your chin with his rough fingers, his hair is falling around his face as he pierces you with his heated gaze.

“When this is all said and done and you’re a fucking mess who can barely speak let alone walk,” he says in a voice which is heavy with lust and promise, “I think we’ll celebrate by bathing together so I can inspect that body thoroughly.”

Nipping at his fingers as he brings them close to your lips, you can agree with that idea and you nod your consent.

“Anyway!” He announces loudly, causing you to jump in place as you scowl, “On with the show. Shall we meet our grand toy for this game?” He snaps his fingers and from the darkness of the room, a mechanical grating sound springs to life as a soldat appears from the gloom.

One arm is still relatively human as it connected to the torso, the glowing reactor of its heart brighter than most light sources within the room. The head is encased in metal, emotionless and anonymous, but the shining drill which has come to replace its other arm causes a spike of alarm in your heart.

“A custom build,” Heisenberg continues with a showman flourish, “with a few special touches. My soldats are built for aggression but this sorry bastard,” he indicates the soldat to move forward a few feet so that it can stand by his side, “has had that particular electrical impulse removed, he is entirely subject to my will as I control and guide his movements.”

Your eyes are so glued to the drill that it takes all your effort to pull away from it to glance at the crotch of the soldat, the area which Heisenberg was directing your attention to now.

“As you can see, it’s also been fitted with a little something extra to keep any wanton slut amused for as long as I think she deserves.”

The metal cock which juts forward from soldat was intimidating in how rigid it looked but as you peered at it, you noticed that it was just slightly smaller than Heisenberg’s own cock, coming it at about a half inch shorter and slightly thinner.

You bite at your bottom lip to hide the smile which was threatening to escape as you realise that Heisenberg must have made a point to create something less impressive than himself. Maybe he was worried he would be replaced?

Mistaking your bitten lip for worry, Heisenberg smirked.

“Don’t worry about the size, kitten, it’s nothing that I know you can’t handle.”

Gathering up some scrap metal with a wave of his hand, Heisenberg quickly fashioned it into a comfortable high-backed chair, the base of it floating a few inches off the floor as he took easy control of the materials and fell into it with ease.

“I suggest you get your lips around it and wet it up,” Heisenberg called out to you from his seated position as the soldat moved to stand by your trapped head, “because you’re going to want it to be comfortable when it’s buried within your cunt.”

Running your lips around the metallic cock, you make a show of wetting it as you take your time in running your tongue along the shaft and allowing thin trails of saliva to soak the tip.

The soldat remains passive as you manipulate it, its metallic body unable to register either pain or pleasure, and the loud whirring of its mechanics is almost soothing as it rumbles above you.

Lost in the action, your attention is caught by the sound of a belt unbuckling, and you glance up at Heisenberg to see him freeing his cock from his slacks. He’s already half hard and he runs his hand along his shaft casually as he watches you please his creation. His back is reclined on his makeshift throne and he looks every part the lord he claims to be.

“On with the show.” Heisenberg grunts, inclining to the soldat with an open palm and the creature follows its masters’ instructions without hesitation. Pulling free of your mouth, it steps back and turns methodically as it leaves your line of sight.

Moving behind you, the soldat takes position as it lines up with your entrance and awaits the instruction for it to begin. The familiar warmth of skin is missing, an odd sensation against your thighs as its unnatural cock holds position against the wetness there, a telling sign of just how much this was turning you on.

Exhibitionism was more of a ‘him’ thing but that didn’t mean you couldn’t appreciate putting on a good performance and you fix him with a lustful gaze, daring him to begin. Behind you, the soldat makes its first movement as it pushes the tip of its metallic cock within you slowly, stretching you in the most enjoyable way as you run your teeth along your lower lip.

The soldat continues to push inside you until you feel the cold metal and skin which made up its crotch pressing against your ass. The fullness is intense and lacking both the softness and natural warmth of a cock which you were accustomed to. Clenching your walls around it as it slowly pulls free once more, the friction steals a full body shudder from you as it brushes your sensitive walls.

Setting a pace which was slow yet deep, you give a low moan as you squeeze your eyes closed, focusing on the ache of your clit as you wish one of your hands free to stimulate it. The stocks around you creak slightly as you push back against the soldat, trying to encourage it to move faster but to no avail as it continues its measured strokes.

A cough draws your eyes open and you lock eyes with Heisenberg once again, his cock now fully hard and laying against his stomach as he runs a finger along the shaft. Extending one finger out, a small metal ashtray cut through the air as it responded to his call and he placed the ashtray on the arm of his throne.

His fingers disappear within the ashtray and pluck free his cigar from within as his other hand dipped within his coat, pulling free a lighter which he quickly used to light the end of the cigar before dropping the lighter back into his pocket.

Inhaling deeply, he sent a thick plume of smoke to the air and you watch it dissipate with a needy growl as the soldat to your back continues its torturously slow pace.

“Something to say, kitten?” He asked, lips mumbling the words around the cigar as he tilted his head at you, amused by your noises and stroking himself slowly.

You knew you were playing with fire but logic was a million miles from your mind as you bare your teeth at him with a feral smirk.

“If this is all you have, Karl,” the use of his name gets a slight brow quirk from him, “then I’m disappointed. I could do a better job myself with less effort.”

“Is that so?”

Giving a deep hum as his lips curl into a considerate smirk, he drops some ash from his cigar carelessly to the floor and inclines to the soldat with a sharp nod as he takes a fresh draw.

Instantly, the pace within you picks up as the soldat snaps its hips forward, burying its metal cock deep within you- drawing a loud gasp of pained pleasure from you- before pulling back just as quickly and repeating the move. The gentleness is gone and your fingertips scramble against the metal stock as your breath is stolen by the sudden onslaught of pressure and pleasure.

The metal within you is unyielding and almost surgical in its precision as it brushes your most sensitive spots without pause, having no need to regain stamina or breath. You felt like a piece of meat, having no say or connection to the creature bringing you such pleasure and the dehumanising nature of it was intoxicating as you allowed yourself to be used and abused.

One particularly deep stroke seems to catch your g-spot perfectly and your scream is low and guttural as your body tenses in position, every nerve alighting and making your wrists pull against the stocks as your knees weaken. Behind you, the soldat cares nothing for your predicament as it keeps up its thrusts, ensuring that your sex remains stimulated even as your pleasure peaks and ebbs.

It’s almost too much and the brutal pace ensures that a constant stream of moans and squeals is all that can escape your throat as you can do little but endure the constant stimulation.

Your eyes were focused on your tormentor, the puppet master who was pulling the strings, and his clear enjoyment of your suffering did nothing but add to the arousal which was coursing through you. Eyes burning as your teeth snapped shut tightly enough to cause a genuine tension in your jaw, you lost yourself in the sensations as your mind seemed to white out.

As though hearing your thoughts, Heisenberg rose from his makeshift throne and came to stand before you even as you continued to whine in place. You take in his form with blurred vision, trying to blink away the unshed wetness in your eyes as you glance up at him.

“Too much, little slut? I thought you were better than this.” His cock bobbed ever so temptingly before you and your tongue licked at your lips as you listen to his words, “What a shame.”

Noticing your attention on his cock, he drops to one knee once again and brushes his fingers along your mouth as you sob out a low keen against him due to the soldat once again brushing against your most sensitive spot.

“Don’t worry, kitten, you’ll be receiving your reward in a moment but first,” his hands produce a large ring gag from within his coat and he slips it within your willing mouth as you tilt your head forward to allow him to secure it, “can’t have you accidentally biting down on me because you can’t handle a little machine fuck, can we?”

Taking a draw of his cigar, he blows the smoke in your face gently and your predicament plus the ring gag make you unable to move away from it as the scent and taste of smoke invades your senses. Standing back up, he dips his hips forward and his hand guides his cock towards your defenceless yet willing mouth and you use it as an opportunity to concentrate on something other than the hard pleasure rocketing through your core.

Your tongue reaches out to lap at the head of his cock but whatever teasing you had planned was swiftly put to rest as he shook his head for a moment before thrusting his cock within your mouth, pausing at the tip of your throat to allow you to prepare for him. Breathing deeply though your nose, you relax your throat and dip your head forward slightly as you accept him.

The invitation was clear and with a triumphant growl he pushes down your throat greedily and you fight back the urge to choke as the familiar taste of him overwhelms you. Added to this, as though taking instruction from its master, the soldat also seems to pick up its pace as it impales itself within you.

Now plugged at both ends, the soldat moves so quickly against you that you can barely differentiate the strokes and the unyielding stimulation leaves you a mindless mess of pleasure.

To your front, you allow Heisenberg to use your mouth; his own strokes deep and messy as he fucks your face with abandon, confident in the security that his cock ring provides him, and you can do nothing but attempt to relax your throat as you resign yourself to the abuse of your willing body.

Pleasure was indistinguishable from pain as ecstasy and agony melted together into one unending mess of sensation; orgasms ripping through you as time lost meaning, even as Heisenberg’s thick fingers came to pluck at your nipples as he used your throat roughly. Tears streaming from your eyes freely as you try to keep up with your breathing, as erratic and broken as it was.

Eventually you feel the cock within your mouth twitch and you have a moment’s notice before he explodes within your throat with an animalistic grunt; the soft tickle of his pubic hair irritating the end of your nose as he buried himself fully and you have to concentrate on swallowing down his release, lest you choke on it.

It's too much and another orgasm tears through you, your fingernails carving crescent shaped divots into your palms as you fist your hands desperately. The tension within your body is almost unbearable as you jerk and writhe, unable to do much more as you remain speared in place.

However, just as you feel like your legs are ready to buckle, a small mercy makes itself known.

Behind you, the soldat pulls free of you and powers down without warning and the sudden lack of fullness within you feels strange, the air of the room brushing past the mess of juices which were coating your thighs and steadily dripping down your legs. So used to Heisenberg’s lack of protection, it feels unnatural to be so thoroughly fucked and not have the warmth of another release within your core, leaking out with your own.

As you consider it, Heisenberg pulls free of your mouth and tucks his saliva-coated cock back within his slacks as he flicks what remains of his cigar butt away without care. Taking a step back, he takes in your prone state and the thin veil of sweat which coats your body.

Twitching in position as your overstimulated nerves continue to fire off despite the lack of stimulation, your knees continue to wobble dangerously for a moment before your body collapses in on itself. Knees striking the floor roughly, you have to straighten your back to keep the pressure off your neck and hands as you reclaim control of your body.

A click of unlocking metal lets you know that you are no longer secured in place but before you can make any effort to move, gentle hands release the ring gag which was still stretching your mouth open. Snapping your jaw shut in appreciation as you move the muscles there, you glance at him with a thankful look as he disappears to your side, just out of eyesight.

Gasping in surprise as his hands come to rest on your hips, the metal stock unlatches and opens at his command and you find yourself quickly swept up into his arms. The physicality of the act draws an appreciative hum from your throat as you curl in towards his chest instinctively; the small pendants and dog tags which he wore as part of his usual outfit brushing against your bare chest as his welcomed warmth envelops you.

“I can walk.” You bite out in a low mutter, having no intention of doing so but unwilling to admit the weakness, “Put me down.”

“No,” the refusal is simple and his grip tightens around you as he takes you in the direction of the bathroom, his earlier promise ringing in your ears, “I want every inch of you scrubbed to wash off the stink of the machine.”

Even through the teasing tone, you can hear just the faintest hint of jealousy peeking through and it makes you smirk.

“Can we keep it?” You ask in a tired voice, slipping your hand in the crease of his shirt and rubbing against the hair of his chest seductively, “I wouldn’t mind having a spare in the bedroom for when the Lord of this factory is too busy to meet my needs.”

Tilting his head down, he catches the mischievous glint in your eye and a rumble emits from his chest.

“Be careful what you wish for, kitten,” He mutters, kicking the door of the bathroom open with ease, “because you know I like to make a fucking point. Especially when it comes to my favourite toy and her insatiable needs.”

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x you #lord heisenberg #heisenberg smut

[eventid1ngs]

[ D a y d r e a m . ]

.

.

.

I stand at attention, my left hand resting upon my right that is perched atop the pommel of the Master Sword, with the semblance that I’m ready for anything and everything that might come this way. Nothing will disturb the princess as she prays at the Goddess Spring. That is my mission.

Not far behind me, I hear a bit of rustling as Zelda slips off her sandals. She takes her time entering the water, each step into the clear spring slow and deliberate.

I know that she is anxious. I know that she feels like a failure.

I know that she is afraid.

The sounds of gently moving water and Zelda’s hushed voice make my head swim, making me remember, for whatever reasons, each time that the princess’ hand touched my hand or arm and every moment that her gaze met mine. Within castle walls, on lonely roads out in the field, late at night… under the stars... in the dark…..

Letting out a sigh, I close my eyes and focus on any other sounds around me. The rustling of the leaves and tree branches above me. Songbirds happily chirping what will be their final performances of the season. The late summer breeze wafts about, flaunting its broken promises; its own song of lingering memory and uncertain futures.

I let out another sigh as I wipe my mind blank.

After a few minutes, I hear the water stir behind me as Zelda steps out of the water. I sheathe my sword before turning to reach for the towel that I had slung over a low tree branch. Approaching the princess, I make a small gesture for her to sit down on a nearby rock. She does. Her eyes are downcast and her expression vulnerable, revealing her utter disappointment. Part of me, deep within the recesses of my soul, wants to curse the goddess for refusing to answer, but I do not.

Part of me, deep within the recesses of my soul, wants to tell Zelda that I love her and that everything will be alright and that it all will somehow work out in the end, but I do not.

She doesn’t say anything, so I don’t, either. I crouch down and dry her feet.

Reaching for her shoes, I hold her clean, dry right foot in my hand for a moment before slipping the sandal on. I do the same for her left foot.

“Thank you, Link.” she says, finally breaking the silence between us. There is so much emotion in her voice. Behind the honest gratitude of her words I hear things that others do not, or maybe just pretend that they do not. I hear the relentless fear that throbs like a festering wound within her. I hear the tenderness of a girl who possesses the sweet compassion of a mother but veils it with bold character so as to not appear "weak." I hear her heart, crying out; reaching out, desperately, for someone–anyone–to provide even an ounce of comfort amongst the chaos.

My hands linger on her legs for far longer than necessary and my heart is beating so hard in my chest that it threatens to cause my stomach to promptly expel whatever I had eaten for lunch not an hour ago.

I want to comfort her.

I want to–

“Link.” she says, and I look up to meet her eyes. The ocean green of her irises shimmer in the sunlight as the inevitable tears come to surface. She opens her lips to say something else, but the words refuse to follow. I reach up without thinking and wipe her cheek with my thumb. My finger barely touches her skin. A quiet sort of half-sob escapes her lips that are still parted.

I take her hands in mine and we both stand. I search her face for answers to questions that I do not even know how to ask. She needs something… I can see it in the concerned arc of her brows, the flutter of her lashes, and the way her breaths keep catching ever so slightly as they come and go.

What is it? What can I give that will stop her from hurting, even if just for a brief moment?

Shoving aside the doubts that are clouding my judgment, I put my arms around the princess and press her to my chest. She sobs quietly as I crush her to me in vain attempt to convince her with my embrace that I will not let go until she feels that she is ready to face the world again.

My lips brush against her temple, not entirely by accident, and the sudden contact makes her pull back a little. Something new makes an appearance in her expression, mingling with the sorrow. It is something like surprise, something like curiosity. Something like excitement. Though I can’t be sure, I lean towards her. My heart skips a beat when I realize that she makes no effort to hesitate. My mouth pauses a mere centimeter from hers as we share the same breath. With an inhale she moves forward so our upper lips touch; so quick and feather-light that it’s almost like it didn’t happen. She does this two more times as if confirming it. I angle my head slightly so that the next time she leaned in, our lips touched properly. It was almost a real kiss, but she pulled back just before the point of no return.

“Link…” Zelda whispers. If she says my name like that again, I feel like I would have to be relieved of my duties as a royal guard because there is no way I would ever be able to concentrate again with that permanently imprinted upon my mind. I dare not look at her face to see the blush that has risen in her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. So I keep my eyes shut.

I want to run away. I want to run far, far away, with her hand in mine. With her by my side. Two kids, too young and too dumb to fight this war.

Just sad kids, going somewhere.

Getting lost.

My hands move up her back and over her shoulders and down her arms, hovering just a breadth away from her skin. The ghost caresses were enough, however, to raise goosebumps across every inch of her flesh that is either exposed by or hidden from my view under her white dress. Skin so rosy, so smooth, without blemish… The skin of the princess who carries the goddess’ blood within her veins, and it trembles and responds to me.

Her eyes flutter closed and mine do, too. Maybe if we keep our eyes closed, we can pretend that it didn’t happen. Maybe if we never open our eyes again, we won’t have to wake up.

Our lips crash into each other.

There is no sound but our breaths that come quickly before being stolen away again. There is no feeling but a steadily growing warmth as inhibitions are stripped away and skin touches skin. The setting sun melts into eventide. There is nothing but us; she, the Princess of Hyrule and I, her appointed knight. Even the moon and stars that hang in splendor from the heavens above dare not disturb us.

A sob catches in my throat as the edges of my darkened vision go blurry with the tears that are rapidly rising. My heart constricts painfully at the sudden, terrible idea that I have become caught up in a silly dream. The possibility that this isn’t real. It couldn’t be. It never would be.

The realization hits me, knocking the air from my lungs, like a behemoth.

Just a silly dream.

All the things you didn’t say.

All of the things that you didn’t do.

Every chance that slipped from your grasp.

Do you wonder what we could have had?

Do you realize that you and I… could have…..

I feel myself start to panic, and I’m too exhausted to fight it. Don’t leave me.

Please.

A wave of pale blue flower petals rushes past my line of sight like an angel answering a prayer, but it never materializes; only disappears with what remains of my fleeting daydream.

I realize, gradually, while the scene that I had just experienced wasn’t real, the pain in my chest very much was. I look down, choking on my own sobs, at the arrows that are lodged into the center of my breastbone. Every inhale causes me to wince at the sharp pain that shoots up and down my body due to the movement.

What do I do?

I don’t know what I’m doing.

Please come back to me.

"I'll find you."  I say, out loud, with a voice that sounds out of place. "...Wait for me."

...Zelda.

I get up.

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.

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Playlist:

“Daydream” by Super Junior

“2 Kids” & “Sad Kids” by Taemin

“Find You” by Monsta X

(Zelink shippers, don’t look up these songs with the English translations unless you, like myself, have an inordinate desire for pain.)

#zelink #oneshot #botw #fanfic #fluff #a lot of fluff #semi angst

[seokahwrites]

growing pains

2.5k

back to masterlist

pairing.

| high school graduate! min yoongi x high school junior! reader

summary.

| people always said you must let go of what you love, and you finally understand what it means.

tags.

| i am so sorry; this comes from a PERSONAL trauma; i love writing angst; blond yoongi supremacy; ykw min yoongi supremacy in general; reader is emotionally mature asf; reader is girlboss; you could say this could be canon/irl?

a/n.

| sorry for all my nuisance readers that are waiting for the next chapters :P IDK WHEN IMMA PICK THAT UP AGAIN. but i present this min yoongi angst that made me very happy to write, tbh came close to tears while writing it. sorry if the writing is kinda everywhere, hope yall like it tho <33 as always thank u for the massive support and love,, love u all

you weren’t quite sure where all the time went. one day you were brushing your teeth for your first day of school, then boom, you’ve finished your third year of high school. it’s similar to how just yesterday you were helping a tiny kid pick up his soiled cd’s and backpack from a puddle and eleven years later you’re watching him graduate.

well, you didn’t get to actually see yoongi graduate since you were too busy making preparations for the night, but that’s besides the point. tonight had to be perfect.

it is goodbye after all.

who knew that the inseparable min yoongi and y/n l/n would ever have to pull away from each other this way. that little shit better appreciate all the spine bending effort you put into making the spot so amazing — not that it wasn’t great before.

with a literal pat to the back and your hands on your hips, you look around the roof with an uncontainable grin, the flashes of purple and blue from the string lights reflected on the gloss of your eyes, every inhale was overtaken with the smell of coffee seeping from the ice cream tubs and a warm seat on the patio couch awaited, along with fuzzy blankets galore.

you’ve outdone yourself this time.

your hands lean against the cold stone at the edge of the terrace and your eyes wandered to the city that laid beneath your feet, from the green hills at the centre of it all to the luminescence of the glass buildings, there wasn’t a single droplet of air that didn’t feel like home.

tap, tap.

speaking of home, you hear familiar soft footsteps from the staircase, snapping you from your little daze and guiding your way to the entrance, your jazz hands in the air and a smile on your face. god, he was gonna love it.

“surprise!”

yoongi reacts a moment too late, his head snapping up and his graduation cap almost falling from his head. the boy was clad with a blue gown, he looked so mature for a mere second — but it was yoongi after all. his eyes widen before his peach lips make a silent “oh,” the entirety of his gums and teeth making an appearance along with the plumping of his cheeks. your heart falters for a moment at the sight, even worse when his eyes disappear into crescent moons that were surely stolen from the sky.

min yoongi looks pretty. not only that, but min yoongi was ecstatic.

“wow,” his head looked from left to right and top to bottom, “the spot looks great.”

you follow him with tiny steps and once you’re close enough to the couch, you push yoongi onto the plush seat, heading to the cooler and grabbing the ice cream, “i just put a few lights and blankets to be honest,” you take a seat beside him and he covers the both of you with the stack of blankets, “it wasn’t a lot of trouble, really.”

yoongi throws away his graduation cap and wiggles out of the flimsy gown, brushing his fingers through his platinum hair and taking a deep breath before snatching the spoon from your hold, “it’s still perfect.”

come on, y/n. pull yourself together. you tell yourself, but it’s hard when yoongi of all people is sitting beside you under the moonlight, stuffing his mouth with ice cream and glowing.

your memory isn’t quite clear as to when exactly did yoongi stop existing to you but glowing, instead. there’s so many moments to remember.

perhaps it was actually the very first moment you laid eyes on him. your rubber boots were muddy and your yellow raincoat was absolutely drenched, no puddle escaped from your stomps. but just as you were a few houses away from yours you see a figure laying beside a puddle and you realise that maybe that person did not want to be laying down in the cold rain.

and all it took was for you to pick up a kid’s shit from a pool of dirty water to meet min yoongi and shortly after, you were practically attached at the hip.

or it very well could be the night before your big sister moved away, your sobs must’ve escaped through the open windows because min yoongi was knocking at your door in no time — the signature two fast knocks and two slow ones. you were only an 11 year old who had never experienced such a change, and it only dawned upon you that night.

yoongi stayed with you for hours on end until you fell asleep on his lap, still with trembling breaths, but your mind eventually steered away from the fact you weren’t going to annoy your sister before going to school every morning anymore — she can’t put up with you during college — and it focused on yoongi’s cold fingers stroking through every strand of your hair ever so delicately and how warm he actually felt.

and there you were, the same kids with your head on his shoulder only this time, he was the one leaving.

“what’s up with you?” he asks as if he had read your mind.

you pull your hood over your head and you smile a bit for whatever reason, “i don’t wanna talk about it.”

he flicks your forehead, the fucker. the abuse makes you sit up, glaring at him with incredulous eyes and you’re about to say a profanity but he beats you to it, “we need to talk about it, y/n.”

and it pains you how nonchalant he sounds.

you slap your hands to your knees and purse your lips, “fine.”

yoongi finally puts down the ice cream — only a spoon of it left. “we both knew this was coming since freshman year, y/n.”

you scoff, as if knowing a goodbye was coming makes it any easier. “that doesn’t make it better.”

his hand makes its way to yours, placed on top of your fist, that melts into an open palm, with utter ease. still, you pull away, “please, don’t do that.”

and you wince at your own tone. it wasn’t like it’s yoongi’s fault that he’s moving away forever. or maybe it was.

it was unfair of you to say, but the weight on your chest had to have a reason, someone to blame. as yoongi’s best friend, of course you love him more than anything in the world and you’ll always support whatever decisions he needs to make to properly follow his dreams. but as the person that plays with the line of friends and more with yoongi, you almost want to beg him to stay. to stay so he could — for lack of a better word — like you, now isn’t that selfish.

yoongi blinks slowly, “we’ve talked about this y/n.”

ah, of course you have. you’ve talked about whatever the fuck this was several times, some of them were in between your interlaced fingers, others resided in the silence as you slept in the same bed and a lot of them echoed from your bitter words. but, once again, is that supposed to make things better?

the day you told him what you really felt for him is crystal clear in your memory, not only for the painful pubescent confession but yoongi’s own news he needed to share. perhaps your relationship was always ill-fated, yoongi had a scraped knee while you reeked of rainwater and you uttered an i love you while yoongi announced he couldn’t stay by your side. the irony.

your eyes are glassy with unspilled tears when you look up at him. why were you so weak?

“stop acting like it isn’t hard on me too,” he sniffles and shuts his eyes with more force than necessary. oh.

you bite your lip and look away at the guilty sight, afraid of what may come out if you don’t. but, if he does know of the turmoil you feel, why is he still insisting?

cold fingers meet your jaw, pushing you with that same delicacy from years ago until you meet his own concealed bloodshot eyes, “you’re not the only person who’s been in—,” he stumbles with his words, “—liked the other for the last decade, you know?”

why did he have to say it out loud? he’s only making it sound real.

maybe, it was actually your fault. if you hadn’t decided to tell yoongi of the butterflies in your stomach, you could’ve pushed them away and let the fantasy live as fiction. but no, you told him about the damn critters and they’ve been eating away at your core ever since, desperate to come out because min yoongi liked you and he was right in front of you ready to be liked right back, yet you could never reach him.

min yoongi was fishing stars from atop jupiter and you were still dancing on saturn’s rings.

you lean into his touch, placing your own hand on his and chuckling at his cheesy line, “that’s just how lucky i am,” and your attempt at humour makes the corners of yoongi’s mouth lift just a little bit.

his thumb glides on the skin it could reach, “so can’t we just have a night like every other one we’ve spent together?”

classic min yoongi.

but as to yourself, you were sick of ignoring things. you were tired of how your heart throbbed whenever you’d fit your face into yoongi’s neck so effortlessly, as if it was only natural; tired of your cheeks along with the rest of your skin burning with every thoughtless caress and sweet nothings he would whisper at the dead of night; and you were tired of your eyes prioritising yoongi’s soft lips over every other feature on his face and how much you yearned to touch them with your own — of how you’d always catch his gaze mirroring yours.

a person could only take so much and you were bursting at the seams already.

still, you only nod.

the silence became unbearable by the minute, even with your head on his shoulder and your hands in his pocket, there was so much that wanted to get out — yoongi would only need to say the right wrong words for all of it to come spilling out. so you speak first, making sure that doesn’t happen.

“it’s gonna be weird without you, y’know?”

you feel his cheeks puff up, subtle as ever “of course,” he squeezes your pinky out of pure habit, “who’s gonna make home cooked meals for me if you mom ain’t around,” and you wish you could white out the blue in his words.

“i swear—,” you chuckle and cross your arms, lifting your head to stare back at the constellations, “—she probably cried more than me when i told her you were leaving.”

before the words could echo back in your head, your eyes are back on yoongi and the boy is staring at the floor with a flood threatening to break out from his eyes.

you just had to open your mouth, huh.

your mouth forms incoherent noises in a miserable attempt to make up for your little slip up, but to no avail. yoongi only shakes his head and looks at you, the way his shoulders slumped exposing that he was trying just as hard to pull it together, maybe even harder.

“me too,” he utters, and you don’t fully understand what he means by that.

a bubble seems to form around the both of you, locking you in your own little world with yoongi, as it always happens when you let him entrance you for a moment too long, and in those seconds that spread to hours you just want to float away, you’re not sure where to but the gloss in his eyes are enough to guide the way.

“y/n,” don’t, “i’m gonna mi—.”

pop.

“please don’t,” you hate the venom that seeps from your tongue, “please stop, yoongi.”

and you want your tears to come thundering over your cheeks, for the red you’re holding in to shoot out from your heart, just so you could show him an inch of what you’re feeling. but you can’t. you shouldn’t.

yoongi’s soft eyes sharpen, “why don’t you want me to say it?”

no, no. that’s a lie.

of course you want to hear him say it. you want yoongi’s voice to sing every word of affection he has to tell you, you want to be wrapped with the smell of yoongi’s embrace, for him to whisper every sin for only your ears to hear and you want nothing more than to remain in every moment you’ve spent with him.

you look down, “if you say things out loud, they might come true.”

he races to grip your hands over his lap, “but it is.”

it is, it is, it is.

you blink away your tears before gazing back at your little piece of the sky, a smile never present in his pouty lips, yet you still read every pore of his skin like the back of your hand.

“yoongi,” you despise your sniffling tone, “let’s face the facts. you’re gonna be hundreds of kilometres away in a big city, i’m gonna be stuck in our little neighbourhood for who knows how long and all we can do is try to forget each other,” your voice breaks, “what could it possibly lead to?”

as you said those words, the reality of it all was coming to hit you with a second wave. the crack of what you both hoped to be was audible in the sounds of you settling back into yoongi’s hold, the silent sobs — that you convinced yourself came from the moon and stars, not from your min yoongi — even more so from the silence that came after your speech.

you could’ve asked yoongi to stay, of course you could have — you wanted it more than anything else. but you knew that he would stay and change his mind in a heartbeat if it was for you, and you couldn’t allow your boy to throw away his dreams for something as meaningless as love — or at least, you try to convince yourself it is.

perhaps yoongi would move on, he would find another person and start a family, have three children and a beautiful house and he’d be living off from all the music he gave to the world all this years ago, just like he always dreamed. perhaps you’d only be a fond memory he would look back on from time to time whenever he’d laugh at old memories after a few drinks with his beloved.

or maybe — and dare you say, hopefully — yoongi would never move on, he would work around the clock with the thought of coming back into your arms and nothing else. he would never leave his cheap tiny studio, only stepping outside during the rise of the moon and he would look at the stars, remembering that a person in daegu is in love with him with all they’ve got and that would be enough to keep him company. because you know for a fact, for the way your heart beats at the mere thought of him, that you would never stop loving min yoongi.

at the present, side by side breathing is more than enough.

“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

and he truly is.

“i can die happy.”

should i make a permanent taglist? idk TELL ME IF U WANNA BE IN IT

#growing pains #bts #bts angst #bts fluff #min yoongi angst #min yoongi fluff #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi one shot #yoongi one shot #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #high school au #bts high school au #min #yoongi #suga #suga x reader #suga angst #suga fluff #suga fanfic #suga fanfiction #bts au #bts au fanfic

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - A Historic Blunder (Rated NC17)

Summary: Crowley shows up in the Bastille to rescue Aziraphale, but for some reason, when he snaps his fingers, it doesn't only release Aziraphale from his chains, it switches their places. Miffed at all of Crowley's mean comments about his beautiful suit, Aziraphale doesn't just opt to free Crowley, but forces him to earn his way out of his chains by putting his smart mouth and sharp tongue to better use. (1999 words)

Notes: Written for the @coldomenszine - nsfw digital-only edition. Warning for bondage and oral.

Read on AO3.

“What in the …?" Crowley glares at the shackles clamped around his wrists and Aziraphale's gold brocade suit miraculously tailored to his body. His eyes dart over to Aziraphale, clothed in the burgundy coat he arrived in. "Why am I wearing your clothes? And your chains? How the Heaven did this happen?"

"I don't know," Aziraphale says, massaging his wrists, rubbed raw by the shackles he'd been locked in. Indeed, how did this happen? Just moments ago, between pleasant banter and derisive remarks in regard to Aziraphale's unfortunate clothing choices, Crowley had snapped his fingers, performing a demonic miracle to set Aziraphale free. Which he did, so, of course, well done him. But now Crowley is the one in chains ...

... while Aziraphale is dressed like a peasant. 

"Are you losing your touch?"

"Very funny.” Crowley snaps his fingers again. And again. And again. But no matter what he does, he can’t break free. 

Most of what he'd intended when he snapped his fingers happened. Aziraphale is unbound, and the guard who had been sent to fetch him standing paralyzed in the corner. Other than that, nothing else worked the way it was supposed to. 

It's almost as if his spell backfired.

"Could this be a punishment from Hell for you rescuing me?" Aziraphale asks with genuine confusion. "You said your lot don't send rude notes. Could they have taken away your power instead?"

“Don’t know," Crowley says, examining his hands for answers. "Does seem like something they'd do.”

Aziraphale gasps. "Maybe they know you're here, and this was a test! Or maybe this isn't Hell's doing at all! Maybe this is Heaven's!" He looks up and around, trying to sense any Holy influence in their midst. If he finds any, he's going to be very put off, seeing as they made no move whatsoever to aid him.

"All interesting theories," Crowley agrees, giving the shackles a tug, checking their strength. "Theories I would love to discuss with you at length somewhere other than here. So why don't you get me out of this mess?"

Aziraphale tuts at Crowley's tone. He's every inch a demon of Hell, with demon manners, too. "What's the magic word?"

Crowley rolls his eyes. He considers not saying it out of spite, but what other option has he? "Please."

"Could you possibly say it nicer?"

Crowley fixes Aziraphale with the fire of his fierce, yellow eyes. "No."

"Fine." Aziraphale raises a hand to snap his fingers, but he hesitates. 

"Wot?" Crowley shakes the chains to remind Aziraphale what he should be doing. "Wot's the matter?"

“I don't know."

"Wot do you mean you don't know?"

"It was nice of you to sweep in here and help me, but you're being mean to me."

"I'm being mean to you?"

"You made fun of my clothes!”

Crowley sputters like a car struggling to start. “You’re ... you're ... you're going to let me get discorporated because I made a comment about your outfit?”

“It was rude! I'll have you know that suit was a gift from Marie Antoinette herself!”

"Pfft. Fitting you'd be wearing it here then."

Aziraphale tsks in disgust. "Was that really necessary?"

Footsteps overhead, coupled with the sounds of cells opening and shrill cries for mercy, draw Crowley's attention away, make him swallow hard. "Okay, look, none of that matters right now! I got you out of your chains, yes? Tit for tat, angel. Bust me out!"

"Quite right, quite right. I could do that. Bust you out, as you say. But what’s in it for me?”

"Aside from you not losing your head?"

"Yes. Obviously. Aside from that."

“I’ll take you to lunch," Crowley offers.

Aziraphale shrugs. “Alas, I’ve already eaten.”

Crowley pulls a face. “That’s never mattered before!”

“Yes ..." Aziraphale grins "... but today it does.” 

"Wot else could you possibly want?"

"What are you willing to give me?"

Crowley crosses his arms over his chest, fumbling with the cumbersome metal links so he can manage it. "I know you've got something on your mind, angel. So could you help me out? Give me a hint?"

"Well ..." Aziraphale rolls his eyes to the ceiling, stalling in the hopes Crowley might figure it out "... it's been terribly stressful here, locked up by myself, waiting to be executed ..." He busies himself picking nonexistent lint from Crowley's jacket, feigning nonchalance. He has no intention of letting Crowley lose his head. He's having a bit of fun with him. 

But maybe he can finagle a little something more. 

"So you're wanting something to relieve your stress, is that it?"

"Perhaps ..."

Crowley smirks. "The stress of being locked up or the stress of being an arsehole?"

Aziraphale huffs. “Remember, my dear, I can’t stop time the way you can so we don’t have a lot to play around with.”

“How much time are we talking about exactly?” Crowley asks, dropping to his knees. Aziraphale hides his triumphant grin behind a scowl when he sees the immaculate hem of his pants and the toes of his satin shoes come in contact with the grimy floor.

“There are guards strolling the halls, checking on prisoners several floors above us. There’s one a few floors down doing the same, coming up this way. So I’d say you have roughly twenty minutes.”

"Twenty minutes!?”

“Nineteen now.”

“Knowing the response time of your cock when faced with my tongue, I’d say that’s more time than I need.”

Aziraphale glowers. "Eighteen ..." 

"Alright, alright! Help me out! Undo your trousers!"

"You're already down there. I'd say you're in a better position to undo them, don't you?"

"Bastard!" Crowley growls. He snaps his fingers, quadruple checking that it won't work. Wouldn't it be the dog's bollocks if his magic came back in time to shove Aziraphale's snarky attitude right back in his face? 

But it doesn't.

Crowley unfastens the fall-front of Aziraphale's trousers, the rough metal of the shackles doing no favors for his wrists in this position, but that barely fazes him, focused on this particular task.

It's been ages since he's seen angel's cock.

He removes it from the confines of angel's trousers, holds it in his hand, and wonders - has it gotten bigger since? Has Aziraphale been putting extra effort into this part of his anatomy since the last time they were together?

Or is he doing this now for Crowley's benefit?

To make Crowley desire him?

Crowley opens wide, takes him in his mouth, but slowly. More slowly than usual. They might be pressed for time, but Crowley feels a need for vengeance. He's going to drag this out, use all of the eighteen - no, seventeen - minutes they have to frustrate the Hell out of Aziraphale.

Teach him a lesson he won't forget anytime soon.

Crowley's lips around Aziraphale's cock nearly discorporate Aziraphale in an instant. It's been too long since he's sampled this demon's pleasures - his warm mouth, his quick wit.

His exquisite company.

"That's is," Aziraphale moans as Crowley wraps his serpent tongue around him, then drags it down his length. "That definitely hits the spot."

Crowley pulls away. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. My knees are aching like Christ on the cross."

"Too soon, my dear," Aziraphale mutters, eyelids fluttering shut to block out sounds of clattering chains, guards coming ever closer, screams of prisoners dragged to their deaths, the ominous drop of the guillotine. "Too soon."

This is the way things have been between them for as long as Crowley can remember. These small indiscretions, stolen taboos, are all they're allowed. They never know when they will have time together, so they relish it whenever it comes along. As fun as it is riling angel up, Crowley can't help wishing he could do things up proper: in the quiet of his flat, on a bed of rose petals, with a bottle of champagne, a bowl of fresh cream, and all the time in the world to enjoy it.

“Crowley!" Aziraphale whines, hips bucking, desperation saturating every breath. "They're coming!"

"Are you?"

"This isn't the time for humor!"

"How much time do we have left?"

"We don't have any left!”

As if on cue, the guards Aziraphale has been sensing arrive, going on loudly about what could have happened to their companion (Marcel - the man stuck in the corner). They stop, do a double-take, then go bug-eyed when they spot Crowley, dressed like a member of the haut monde, on his knees in front of Aziraphale.

At first, they don't know what to make of it. They would chalk it up as a victory if not for the fact that, even dressed like one of them, they have no idea who Aziraphale is. And though they recognize the fancy suit Crowley is sporting, they have no clue how the man inside went from plump and pale to thin with flaming red hair and dark glasses.

They try to think up a practical explanation, but as former men of faith, they come to the conclusion that what's going on inside the cell is the work of the Devil. They hurry off, presumably to summon back-up, screaming about witchcraft and perversion. Aziraphale doesn't know for sure. They could be yelling about the weather. His grasp of conversational French isn't as good as it should be. He could ask Crowley to translate, but he wouldn't remove his mouth from his cock for anything.

Tragically, Crowley does so himself. "I think we've been spotted." 

"How did you guess?" 

"Are you even close?"

"Yes! Yes, I am! I ... oh, let me! May I?" Aziraphale grabs Crowley's head but waits for a consenting nod before he holds him still and fucks his mouth to the finish. And Crowley lets him. He may as well have some fun with his mouth before he and his head become strangers. Not that he thinks Aziraphale would leave him there to be beheaded.

But would he? 

"Oh! Oh, dear! Oh for Heaven's ...!" Aziraphale comes down Crowley's throat in a wash of Holy light enough to burn straight through to his stomach, but that's part of what he enjoys about letting angel use him.

That taste of Heaven that accompanies his orgasm.

"Oh my goodness!" Aziraphale pants. "That was exceptional, my dear. Bravo. You really know how to rise to a challenge."

"I'm glad you're satisfied." Crowley wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then licks up every last drop. "But there's still the matter of you breaking me out."

"Yes ..." Aziraphale awkwardly clears his throat "... that."

"You are going to free me, right?"

Aziraphale shoots Crowley an offended look. "Of course, I am! I'm an angel of my word!"

"A-ha. And how do you intend on doing that when you didn't want to use a miracle to free yourself?" Crowley asks, kicking himself for not considering that at the beginning of all this.

"Oh! Well, you see, I nicked the key from that chap over there ..." Aziraphale pats down the pockets of Crowley's coat, then the pockets of his own, chirping a tiny, "A-ha!" when he finds it.

"Why didn't you tell me!?"

"You didn't ask!"

"How did you get it off him without his noticing?"

"Nu-uh." Aziraphale sticks the key in the lock and gives it a twist. "A magician never reveals his secrets." 

"Wait! That means you could have gotten yourself ... and me ... out of those chains this entire time!?" Crowley hisses, shaking out the throbbing in his wrists as the chains fall to the ground. But Aziraphale sidesteps Crowley's question and helps him to his feet.

"Come come now! Let's get moving!" With a snap of Aziraphale's fingers, Crowley is re-dressed in his original clothes while Aziraphale reluctantly switches outfits with the still frozen guard. "We mustn't hang about!"

When the guards return, there's only one prisoner in the cell. 

The aristocrat on his knees and the revolutionary he was servicing are gone.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 16

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 16: The Ex From Down Under

“Bye dad! I’m heading out!” MK called as he rushed to the table and quickly stuffed his bag with all his stuff that was lying around.

“See ya,” he poked his head out of the kitchen. “If you're coming back again, I’m making some Mapo Tofu for dinner tonight if you want to stop by.”

“The mouth searing one,” he questionly asked as he continued packing without even looking at what he was putting in.

“I’ll have a milder one on the side,” he chuckled as he watched his child's fist pump the air.

“I will totally be here.”

“Alrighty, and you can ask Wukong if he wants to come,” he nonchalantly said as he wiped his hands on his apron. He then noticed MK staring at him and he raised his eyebrow, “What? By the gods know when that dumbass ever had a good meal that wasn’t from his own hair.”

“Uh huh,” was all he said as he tightened his bag then he gave him a wide grin. “Well I’m off,” he ran up to his dad and gave him a big hug before leaping out of the window free falling before stepping on a branch and hopping from tree to tree.

“…I may have enabled his window hopping habits,” he mused to himself before shrugging his shoulders and walking off.

“Remember, don’t let your body tighten so much when you get into the swing, ease up before snapping, giving you more momentum,” Monkey King lectured as he demonstrated with a staff. It was always a bit of a struggle to teach his student new techniques when he already had a style in place. Macaque always leaned more towards the silent route with swift strikes and keeping the body low, while he kept more towards the louder method of quick feet and aiming high. Each monkey had incorporated their style to fit themselves and they have taught their own moves to the other just to get more variety and not to be so predictable. Once he had learned that Macaque had taught MK his own fighting style, it was much easier to incorporate his own style into his as well.

MK focuses as he did exactly that as he jumped up in the air and landed a hit on the training dummy high in the sky. “Yes!” He fistbumped the air, it had taken so long to actually complete that move, but he has finally done it!

“Nicely done kiddo,” he grinned and ruffled his hair. “Now how about we take a small break.”

“Sounds good to me!” He stretched out his limbs as he made his way to his bag. He paused as he quickly caught the water bottle thrown at his head, “Thanks!”

“No problem,” the monkey said as he sat down next to him. “So how has everything been? I heard you got into a gang turf war the other day.”

“By the gods,” MK groaned, “that had to be the stupidest fight I have ever seen and I’m friends with Mei! So here I am minding my own business and delivering some noodles to this random dude when all of a sudden gunshots ring out and the man begins to rave like an absolute lunatic.”

As Wukong listened to the story he couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering over to MK messy hair as he instinctively scooted over next to him and began to smooth out his hair.

“-then the leader on the opposing side decides to step in cause why not?! And declares that-,” he paused as he finally felt his mentor grooming his hair after he was ranting for ten minutes. “Uhhh?”

“Go on, I’m still listening,” he said as he continued to thread his fingers in his hair.

The teenager only blinked once before going with it, “And do you know what he declares? He declares that the bowl of noodles is actually for him and guess what?! Now we have both sides gearing up for a fight over a goddamn bowl of noodles!”

“Don’t swear,” he murmured then let out a soft purr as he untangled a particular spot.

“Dad says it’s fine as long as I don’t do it in front of kids.”

“…yeah that seems pretty like him.”

“Speaking of him, you're invited to dinner tonight if you want to come,” he said.

“Yes!” MK blinked at the immediate response, but then the Monkey King quickly settled down and casually said, “Yeah, that would be fine.”

“Coolio, I’ll text him,” he waited for him to release his hair before he got up, but it didn’t seem like it hit the monkey until he saw MK eyes staring at him.

“Oh right, I should probably let go,” he gave a forced chuckle.

“Don’t worry Dad is a lot worse,” he reassured him as he made his way to his bag, “he sometimes would take hours on grooming and wouldn’t release me until he had deemed it worthy.”

“Sounds nice,” the Sage muttered.

“To you, but I was so bored sometimes that I would fall asleep just to pass the time,” he said as he was about to grab his phone when he noticed a paper. “What is this?” He took it out and saw that it was a letter, but it wasn’t addressed to him, but rather all it said on the envelope was the phrase ‘My Love.’ “Well this is weird?”

“There’s a lot of things that are weird bud, but I think you need to be a little more specific,” he smiled at his student's confused look.

“Well I have a letter that I’m pretty sure isn’t mine,” he held out the mail.

“It looks like someone has an admirer,” he teased seeing the words.

“Noooo,” he softly whispered. He already had his experience with one crazy fangirl and it took both Mei and Red Son threatening the living hell out of her before she finally backed off. He really doesn’t want anything to do with that anytime soon. “It’s not for me.”

“Well open it and see whose it is for then.”

“Isn’t that like an invasion of property and technically a crime?”

“How else are you gonna know whose it for then?”

“…touché,” so he did exactly that and carefully opened the envelope and took out the paper that was just full of writing. He felt his stomach drop as he saw who it was for on the first line. “To my dear Macaque.”

“What,” Wukong's tone was dead flat as he processed what MK just said.

MK said nothing as he continued to read and the more he read the creepier it got.

To My Dear Macaque,

It’s been so long since I have seen you, I hope you have been receiving each and every one of my letters. If not, that’s okay. I'll keep saying this as many times as needed.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

I will forever say this even when you don’t believe out of connection anymore, for you have stolen my heart and doused it with the most burning of acids that the two of us have created. It burns like the hellfire consuming my soul, it stings like the little needles digging through each and every last one of my smallest injuries and gently tearing it apart. It hurts and it hurts and it hurts and you hurt me. You hurt me and left me to my despair after I have given all of my love to you and only to you. You left and walked away after denouncing our burning heart we made together.

You left it there and it’s still burning.

But I forgive you.

I forgive all that you had done to me because I know that deep down you still feel the same. But don’t worry, once I see you again I’ll show you that the two of us were meant to last far longer than even the stars. I’ll show you that we are meant to be together even if I have to drag you away by force and give you my medicine to show you that all we need is each other. You have tasted the sweet elixir before and you were more than agreeable once the potion had set in and shown my love for you.

But I’m sure it won’t have to come to that.

We will meet soon my love, until then, please take care.

From your heart, Shun

“Who the f- who is Shun,” the monkey let out a low growl as he finished reading the creepy ass letter. “And why does he know moonlight? And what is with the creepy letter?!”

“That’s Dad's creepy ex boyfriend!” He said in a panic as he began to pace around.

“His WHAT?!” He couldn’t stop the small burst of energy erupting from out of him as his eyes glowed a dark gold and the ground slightly cracked beneath his feet.

“This is bad. This is bad. This is so so so so BAD!” MK began to panic as he kept pacing around the area and gripping his hair. “So very bad! How long has this been happening? How long since he has been receiving his creepy letters?! It’s also ready bad enough he mentioned the potion, but now he’s implying he’s coming here?!”

“Kid, kid,” Wukong managed to wrangle down his enraged emotions (hello jealously how have you been) and moved towards his kid in an effort to calm him down. “MK, it’s okay, everything will be okay,” he said as he gently pried the stubborn fingers from his hair. “I’m sure he will be fine, this is Macaque we’re talking about here, and sure that no potion he could dish up could stop-”

“It’s a love potion,” he blurted out.

“That devil concoction,” he hissed out. But took a deep breath in and reluctantly pushed the rebranded slave poison to the side of his mind…for now. “Like I said, I’m sure he will be just fine.”

“Maybe I’m freaking out. I mean he’s probably not even here or anywhere near here. Maybe dad even told him off and he’s probably not even coming. Maybe I’m just blowing this whole thing out of proportion,” MK tried to reason out.

“There we go, now breathe with me.”

“I will I will…right after I call dad!” He immediately shot towards his phone and dumped almost everything before he found it. He quickly called his Dad's number and waited for the call to go through.

BZZZZ

BZZZZ

BZZZZ

BZZZZ

‘I’m not in right now, if you're calling for medical treatment or prescriptions then leave a voicemail. If you're anyone else, why? Just why?’

Beep

“He’s not answering! Time to panic!!”

The figure had just made it to the edge of the Plum Blossom Forest and out in the distance, he saw the tallest Plum tree he recognized.

“It’s been so long my love,” he lovingly whispered as he gave a few licks to his arm before quickly moving through the trees.

Happily ignoring the hisses and snarls close behind him as they all were not happy at the intruder.

Inside said home, a certain monkey's whole body twitched as he slammed his items in hand and began to match to the door.

“Fuck me, I thought his creepy ass wouldn’t be anywhere near here until next week, at least then MK would be back at Pigsy shop,” he hissed as he materialized a two sharp bladed tonfas in hand. “I had no appointments, all my stocks are good, all I literally wanted to do today was to make food, drink some tea, and enjoy a family dinner with Sunshine included but I guess not the fuck today! I guess it’s a good fucking thing I have the perfect target to direct my anger I suppose.”

He gave out another snarl that was amongst the long line to come as he dipped into the shadows once more and took off towards the intruder that every creature in the forest, whether it be animal, demon, or creature alike, no one liked the intruder roaming in their home.

He quickly ventured through the shadows, roaming from plant to tree, animal to grass, until he finally saw a ring tailed lemur with a soft smile upon his face as he paused and his eyes lit up

“It’s been so long my love,” he cooed as he tried to find the humming presence. He didn’t have time to dodge the blow coming from the front as blades sliced into him, but his smile didn’t falter as he took in the sight of his beloved. “You're still as beautiful as ever”

“And you're still as creepy as ever,” he snarled as let his tonfas glow brighter. “I thought I told you to fuck off and away.”

“It was a mere trifle the both of us had, words were said, but I forgive you,” he gently smiled.

“Ughh I really hate when you do that,” he grimaced at his former horrible choice of a partner. “I will give you one fucking chance, leave before I show you once more why you should have stayed gone.”

“I’m sorry, but I will show you with all of my heart and being just how much you truly need me,” Shun only needed to drag a foot back in preparations as a sense of eagerness thrummed deep within him. It’s been so long since he had physics contact with his love after all.

Macaque forced down the shudder as he once again disappeared into the shadows as soon as he sent some clones towards him to attack.

Some creatures of the forest were spectating as this whole fight went down, eager to watch the intruder fall, maybe if the Guardian is generous enough he’ll allow them to feast on what remains.

The forest was about to become a little more wild when first blood was spilled.

“What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?!” MK was clutching his phone as he attempted to call his Dad a few more times, but his heart picked up each time he didn’t answer.

“Kid,” he attempted to once more calm him down when he shot up.

“Yanyu! I should call Yanyu!” He quickly dialed her number and his legs began to shake in anticipation as the number rang.

BZZZ

BZZZ

BZZZ-

“What’s up short-”

“EMERGENCY!” He shouted out.

“GHA! What do you-”

“Big problem! Huge problem! So I was packing my bag cause I was in a rush to get to training and I was talking to Dad so I didn’t notice what I put in my bag. So I went for trainingandwhenbreakdtstartedIfounditinmybagandIcantbelievr-”

‘MK BREATHE’ it wasn’t just the bluenette, but two other voices that joined her.

“Mei, Red, what are you guys doing with Yan?” He questioned for a moment before shaking his head, “Wait, not important, there is a big problem!”

‘Well spit it out then,’ Red huffed.

‘I think he’s trying,’ he could hear Mei's amused voice in the background.

‘Both of you hush,’ Yanyu turned back to the phone, ‘Now what’s happening?’

“Shun contacted Dad. He's almost here and Dad won’t pick up his phone!”

‘WHAT!!!’ They all screamed with both Red and Yanyu being significantly higher as the adult continued, ‘What do you mean creepy fucker is coming?!’

“Fuck Fuck Fuck this is bad!’ He could hear the prince in the background slowly freaking out. ‘I thought his crazy ass wouldn’t come back!’

“Apparently he did!’ Mei yelled out.

“I don’t know!” MK hysterically said as he began to almost hyperventilate, but the Monkey King began to run his back.

“Okay everyone breathe,” he firmly told the centuries younger children on call. “You are forgetting, this is Macaque you’re talking about here, I’m sure he will be fine.”

“The Monkey King is listening to this?!” Red hissed as he accidentally showed weakness to one of his greatest enemies.

“I know he will kick his scrawny ass, but that doesn’t alleviate my fear of him getting poisoned again and being put under an eternal sleep to be used as a god damn porcelain doll again!” Yanyu shouted, bypassing the fact that she was talking to the Monkey King.

“Again!” Everyone bar Red shouted together.

‘Yeah! And you thought the love poison was bad, this is just fucked up! Now do you see why I’m freaking out!’

“Why do you think we don’t want uncle anywhere near him!” The Bull prince continued.

“Okay that’s it,” Wukong summoned his cloud, “Hop on, we’re heading over there. Even if he’s not there, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Thank you!” He leaped onto the cloud.

‘We'll meet up with you as fast as we can on Mei ride,’ Yanyu said with a rush to her voice as the trio quickly went to the motorbike which thankfully has a side seat.

“Okay,” MK muttered as he held onto the fluffy cloud.

‘Oh and Monkey King.’

“Yes?”

‘You better not fuck it up,’ she said with an ominous grin in her voice as she sat in the sidecar and Red held onto Mei as she quickly revved up her engines.

“…I’ve been hearing a lot of those lately.”

‘Good! See you real soon,’ she finished as he heard the motorcycle take off and the call ended.

“I guess we will,” he said to himself as they took off for the Plum Blossom Forest.

“I really hope Dad is okay,” MK muttered as he gripped tighter.

“He will be,” he firmly stated. ‘You better be okay mango,’ he privately thought. ‘Else I don’t think your kid would take it….fuck your better be alright else I will be kicking your ex boyfriend ass and making sure he knows the meaning of pain.’ He silently hissed out in his mind as he got the cloud to love even faster as it soared over the ocean.

“What is up with the forest right now,” Mei growled out as the group sprinted through the trees with Yanyu leading them.

“I don’t know, it has never done this before,” MK confusingly shouted out as they ran through. For some reason, when the two were about to go over the forest, the cloud suddenly dropped until it was underneath the treetops, making it near impossible to travel by cloud. Luckily they spotted the others a little ways behind them and grouped up together.

“It’s part of Mac magic,” the bluenette said as she paused at one tree before darting to the left.

“What do you mean?” Monkey King asked as he tried to locate Macaque's aura using his golden eyes, but all it showed was the entire area covered with a faint pulse of violet energy.

“So you know how he planted basically all the trees in the forest right,” she got affirmations from them as they continued. “Well in the process he put his own energy into the plants, because apparently he wanted to make sure they grew up okay. Thus making this whole forest basically under his control.”

“So that's why it felt familiar,” the Monkey muttered as he remembered back to the first time he saw the forest. “It also makes sense why my true sight isn’t working.

“That would be more awesome if we weren’t currently lost in this!” Mei said.

“I know the way, he showed me after the last time Shun showed up. This forest was on a complete lockdown and nothing was recognizable like now,” she emphasized the land around them. While it seemed that nothing at first glance changed at first, if you really looked then they would notice that each tree looked almost identical to each other. No distinguishing marks, no distorted branches, not even the groves held any difference.

Each and every tree that they saw were the exact same.

“Okay that is disturbing,” Red muttered.

“Like I said, his little magic is intertwined with the forest and even with some of the creatures living here. It was supposed to be made for protection for not only the creatures living here and to anyone who may accidentally wander in, but to keep out the intruder that seeks to harm. He taught me to seek out the odd spots and openings left open in case something like this happened again. Though I don’t think he literally meant this exact scenario,” she grumbled. “He’ll probably teach you guys this after this whole thing is over.”

“We’re getting closer,” Wukong stated.

“What makes you say that,” MK asked without taking his eyes off Yanyu's back.

“The animals running,” he pointed out several animals, birds, monkeys, and insects alike, all fleeing from the same direction.

“We’re getting close,” she said as they continued to run.

It was only twenty minutes later did Red speak as he tried to look ahead, “I’m not the only one who can hear the sounds of growls right?”

Everyone nodded their ahead and just up ahead they saw a rather large crowd of mythical beings, spirits, and demons alike all grouped together and waiting as they kept their eyes firmly on what’s ahead. They follow their gaze and can faintly see, just between gaps a bright violet glow followed by a form of black mass.

It was Macaque.

“Dad/Pops!” Mei and MK yelled out for him, but he didn’t react to them as he pushed back against something else.

Monkey King wasted no time in climbing up one of the trees to get a better view with MK and everyone else quickly following him. There they witness Macaque fighting against an agile lemur who seemed to be trying to throw himself at the monkey, but he keeps dodging out of the way in time.

“Fuck it is Shun,” Yanyu groaned as Red let out a soft “noooo.”

“So how do we go about this,” Mei questioned as she fingered her sword while she watched her pops dive back into the shadows only to get pulled right back out, “cause I say we go in swingin.”

“We will not be doing any of that,” Red hissed as he grabbed hold of Mei's collar, “We have to play this smart, while Shun is a certified psychopath, he is a very smart psychopath.”

“No kidding, it’s how the two of them got together in the first place,” the doctor muttered and smirked as she saw her former teacher trip up the lemur and slammed him to the ground, but that didn’t stop her from noticing a certain brown furred monkey twitch as she mentioned that.

“Okay, we are getting a full explanation on how even when this is all said and done,” Mei grumbled and settled back down on the branch. “So what do we do?”

“We just have to wait and see what happens,” the bluenette got comfortable, “I doubt he’ll need our help, but I rather not take chances.”

“Nice plan, nice plan, just one flaw with that,” both demon and human glanced at Mei. “Two certain monkeys didn’t get that memo.”

Both of them blinked, then dropped their heads and sighed.

“Of course they would, cause why not,” Yanyu uttered as she turned her attention back to the fight. At least she won’t have to worry too much about stepping in, not that she thinks she could stand a chance, with both Monkey King and Doc's son charging in.

“You know it would be so much easier for you if you just fuck off you know,” Macaque mocked as he flicked off the blood from his blades. “Maybe you’ll still have a working arm if you run fast enough.”

“Aww you worry my dear-,” he smiled as he didn’t even flinch at the blood dripping down his arm.

“Not in the slightest.”

“Don’t fret, it will soon be over, but I will admit that I am getting a bit agitated,” his voice echoed out, which didn’t seem to do much at first as many spectators cackled at his attempted intimidation.

But then a weird smell filled the air, it seemed to have always been there as they hadn't taken notice of it before, but it got stronger as it smelt remarkably of a flower. They couldn’t quite put what kind of flower it was before-

EYES EYES EYES SO MANY EYES

EVERYWHERE

NOWHERE

CANT HIDE

NOT FROM IT

WHAT IS IT

WHAT IS PREDATOR

WHAT IS PREY

WHO IS WHO

WHERE ARE WE

WHERE ARE WE RUNNING

WHERE WHERE

Many creatures fell victim to this as they froze in place and whimpered out as they barked their necks in hopes to quell the predator or maybe grant them a quick death.

It was imposing.

It was encompassing

It was frightening.

And this only made Macaque still for a moment of the sudden smell before he got his bearings back, but that was all Shun needed as he leaped towards him with arms and mouth open wide.

Here’s a fun fact that not many know about lemurs, while they are known for being quick on their feet and agile to escape predators, there is one species who have, through a long process of evolution, developed another way of warding off predators or capturing their prey.

It was a toxic bite.

Apparently a certain species called slow lorises poison is so deadly that it can kill humans with a single bite and guess which lemur has that lucky parent.

‘Finally,’ he thought to himself as he closed the distance between him and his love. ‘I have finally got you back with me. Don’t worry, with my new potion I’ll make sure this time we won’t part,’ he lovingly thought as he tasted the special mixture in his mouth. He should really send his carrier a fruit basket when his love is properly back with him, she was the one who taught him everything he needed to know about potion making. Without her expertise, then he would have never known how to make the love potion, after all that was how she managed to snag his sire to mate with her.

Everything would finally be perfect…except for one little detail.

Not every creature was affected by the smell.

Ní merely flicked her tails in annoyance as she calmly watched.

Shui Gui took a huge breath of the smell in and puffed it out after a few seconds to reveal a green miasma cloud.

Xianglu merely shook their heads as they tried to rid of the foul smell in their nose.

BaBa just hissed at the inferior attack before nestling down.

Even the Faeries were tittering away at the pathetic illusion the demon tried to submerge them in.

These creatures, deities, demons, are just some of the few with a long history backed by so much experience that the infant lemur cannot comprehend. It was quite amusing to think that such a being could even equate to their level, even their Guardian was merely humoring him, but quite funny nonetheless. Regardless though Shun did possess the quality to allude himself to being much scarier to those around him with his…disturbing methods that he tends to use and hides himself behind his illusion. Unfortunately for him, it’s quite easy to bypass with multiple tools in hand, either physically and mentally. But more often than not, there is one sure fire method that most people tend to turn to if they don’t know which is correct.

Determination.

Which embodied a young adult as he bashed his staff against the lemur head, and a Sage monkey who punched him so hard that he left a crater when he finally landed.

Both beings were very determined to at least brutally maim the creep by the time they were finished with him.

“DON’T TOUCH MY DAD!/MOON!” Both MK and Wukong respectively shouted as they stood in front of a sighing Macaque.

“You know I had this handled right?” He looked towards the both of them, not bothering them with the possessive form both monkeys said. Though the same couldn’t be said for Shun as he was still in his spot and didn’t know who to first turn his attention to until his eye settled on MK.

“You have a child,” he said wonder in his voice as his whole face lit up.

“I’m not liking that look,” MK muttered to Wukong who nodded.

“No, no, please don’t say-” Macaque practically begged him not to say what he was about to dread.

“We have a child.”

“Nooooo,” he whispered out as he wished he could just knock himself out after hearing those words then shook it off and said with a growl. “Not your child, my child. You are not part of this equation, you're not even a variable that was left out, you are nowhere near part of any of this.”

“But my love-”

“Not my/his love,” all three monkeys stated.

“Despite our brief separation, you know it has always been a dream of mine to have a child of our own. Remember the time we spent out in the town as we laid our eyes at a beautiful family,” he almost cooed at the child's awkward face. “Two parents and two children, a boy and a girl, they looked very lovely together.”

Macaque did remember what he was talking about, he remembered his eyes lingering on the family as they were in town on a date. He couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on them as he let a small smile play on his lips as Shun shared that same sentiment and wrapped his arms tighter around him. It used to be comforting, that small embrace used to mean ‘he is here for him, he won’t let you go’, but now all it means now is ‘he will not let you go, no matter how much you beg.’ It has turned so very confining. But he kept his mouth shut and let his former boyfriend ramble, trying to look for another way not to get bitten from his ‘love bite.’

“It was pure bliss just the two of us, those small moments we shared to the nights laid up in our nest as you laid under me as I enraptured your mouth and slowly move-.”

‘Never mind!’ He quickly burst forward and sent a high knee to the underside of his jaw that was followed by a staff to the side of the neck and a claw to the stomach courtesy of both child and friend. ‘He is not about to go there!’

“I do not want to hear any of that!” MK shouted as he backed away from the lemur after his attack.

“That makes two of us,” Wukong lowly growled as only his self control was the only thing stopping him from ripping the bastard in front of him. And even that was by the hair as he learned that new little tidbit that he did not want to hear.

“I have been a bit curious,” Shun simply stood back up and looked towards the Monkey King, “Who are you to him?”

“I am the Monkey King, you may have heard of me,” he said as he stood up straight as his golden eyes flickered in his eyes.

“How quaint,” he merely said, “but you didn’t answer my question,” a tinge of aggression laced his voice. “Who are you to him?”

Now at this point Wukong self control was almost completely gone since the first time he heard about this creepy ass bastard (which he so needs to interrogate Mac on why the fuck he would even date someone like him) and it was not looking so good. So to hear this black and white knockoff of a two legged beetle that deserves its tongue to be torn out, implies that he was the outsider in all of this rather than the other way around. Well, he decided right then and there that this nasty little bug needed to learn a few things first before he became a rotting corpse for the rest to feast upon.

“Wukong don’t you dare,” Macaque saw that look in his eyes.

“I was his friend long before you ever thought of,” he taunted and wrapped his arm around Mac's shoulder. “I have known him longer than even the mountains have formed and before towns became cities. He knows me longer than some of the forest was ever formed and before kingdoms have reached their destruction. We know each other very thoroughly, both inside and out, and seen the other at our best of times and our worst of times. It feels like eons have passed since then, but when it comes down to it you can say the two of us are made up of the same soul.” He finished his dramatic speech with a nuzzle to his black fur as he gave a soft kiss on his head. He opened one golden eye and grinned mockingly as he said, “So how long have you known him?”

Silence filled the air as they all locked eyes on a stiff Shun who didn’t even move an inch since Wukong started it. But what they could see was the underlying darkness in his eyes as he slowly blinked. Then he smiled, teeth bared and all, as he stated. “It will be a great joy when I tear out your throat and rip that nasty little tongue right out of your mouth and force you to watch as I consume it.”

“Try me,” he said with teeth bared.

Both Lemur and Monkey locked eyes with each other as you can almost see lighting shoot out of their eyes from the sheer animosity the two had with each other despite not even knowing the other for ten minutes.

The black furred monkey muttered, “And they said I’m the dramatic one,” to whom he was referring. It may never be known as Wukong and Shun leaped at each other at the same time. Macaque just groaned and decided to walk over to his son instead of the fight that was happening. “So, you met Shun.”

“I hate him,” MK instantly said as he got closer to his Dad. “I really hate him.”

“You and me both starlight, so why are you here anyways? Aren’t you supposed to be training right now?”

“So this morning I may have accidentally grabbed the letter while I was stuffing everything into my bag,” he said as he cheered when his mentor used his tail to choke the lemur while he had his arms pinned.

“Damn it, I thought I trashed them all. Must have been one that just came in,” he grimaced.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you?”

“That your creepy ex was back,” MK said with a twinge of irritation in his voice. “I could have helped.”

“Nice thought comet, but I had it handled,” he smirked as he watched Shun attempt to break Wukong's arm only to get a vicious claw to the face. “This isn’t my first time dealing with his creepy ass.”

“But I could have helped,” he almost whined, “Mei has tons of ideas for retribution and I got a very powerful stick that tends to hurt…a lot.”

“And I believe that, but I got it,” he ruffled his kid hair, “but thank you for looking out for little ol me even when I don’t need it.”

“Like how the Monkey King is doing right now.”

“He’s just an impulsive idiot right now,” he grinned sharply as he watched Shun stagger in place from his wound as Wukong taunted him as his hand dripped red. He is not totally blind to see that his friend has a protective streak wider than the Earth when it comes to people he cares for. He has certainly seen it when his leg was broken by an uppity pack of Tiger demons. Needless to say, when the Wukong got back and saw him lying there and surrounded by demons, well let’s just say that the food was pretty good that day and even had some warm blankets to go alongside with it.

So to see that this still applies for him despite their long separation, he couldn’t stop that warm burst of feeling brew from inside of him.

Wukong, on the other hand, was feeling the blood pump in his ears with each hit he landed on the bastard. And while he unfortunately can’t go full Sage mode on his ass (the forest probably won’t be able to stand if he did and he actually likes this haven his mate had created) he is still enjoying kicking this disgusting little lemur ass.

“Bet you really feeling it now,” he taunted as he broke another rib. “Can ya feel it? Each little bone in your body breaking? It must fucking suck!” He viciously laughed, “But that’s what you get when you don’t fuck off when someone tells you no, especially Moonbright.”

“Stop calling him that,” the lemur growled for the first time.

“Oh what Moonbright,” he received another growl in return. “Or maybe Mango? Moon? Moonlight? My heart?”

“YES!” He hissed out as he recklessly leaped towards the monkey.

“Nah, can’t do that,” he smirked as he grabbed the lemur arm and tossed him back towards the growing crater. Then he let a wicked smile show on his face, “I mean, he is my other half,” he emphasized. Was he making this worse? Yes, yes he was. Does he care in the slightest? No he does fucking not. He’s been wanting to let loose some of those words out for quite some time, albeit it’s under an illusion that he’s just riling him up, but damn does it feel good to say.

Before the lemur could leap back up a charge at him once more another force came into play.

“Having fun without me!” Shun felt a pain burst from his back as he saw a pig tailed girl leaped off of him with blood dripping from her sword. “That is a damn shame.”

“I had this handled you know,” Monkey King petulantly said.

“Oh I know,” she slings her sword over her shoulder, “but I really wanted to land a hit on this bastard at least once for what he did to Pops.”

“Fair enough.”

“Another child!” He said with glee despite his broken bones and blood dripping down his face.

“He is seriously messed up in the head,” she muttered as she couldn’t help but step back at his gaze though she did raise a brow as Wukong stepped beside her while he kept his eyes on the lemur.

“Okay fuck this, I’m ending it,” Macaque huffed as he stepped forward.

“Actually Dad, can I do this,” he paused at his son's words as his eyes were locked firmly onto the agitated lemur.

“MK, I’m not about to let you-” he was cut off.

“Please,” he pleaded as his brown eyes flickered to violet ones.

“…fine, but if things are looking bad then I will step the fuck in,” he huffed as he subtly sent some more shadow clones in the foliage of trees and amongst his son's shadow.

“Oh don’t worry,” he began to spin his staff as he walked forward. “I won’t even need to leave your line of sight when I get done with him.”

MK continued forward as he neared the lemur, passing by both Mei and Wukong who gave him a glance.

“I’m ending this,” he simply said.

“You need help?” The dragon's successor looked to her brother.

“Nope,” said the doctor's son.

“Well holler if you do.”

“Always happy to lend a hand,” the Monkey Sage joked as he wiped off his own bloody hand. He wouldn’t mind another round of beating to the lemur…maybe a couple more just to be fair.

“Oh trust me, I won’t,” he darkly chuckled, which surprised the other two.

MK was done with Shun, he was already creeped out before he met him, disgusted by the letter, nauseated when he first saw him, and down right pissed when he heard him speak to his Dad like that.

It was time for his Dad to be protected for once instead of the other way around. Shun is gonna regret ever breathing by the time they're done with him.

Shun's eyes lit up when he saw MK approach. “It so good to see you for the first ti-”

“Shut the fuck up,” he cut him off.

“Wha-”

“I said shut the fuck up.”

“…excuse me?”

“You're not excused,” he shrugged his shoulder.

“That is no way to talk to your parent-” he was interrupted once more.

“Well it’s a good thing that you aren’t then isn’t it, I mean if you were then I would willingly go back to my deadbeat sperm donors than you,” he mocked him.

“I’m sorry what?!” Wukong was already taken by surprise by his student's sudden shift in attitude, let alone this new heaping pile of info.

“That’s a whole nother story for later,” Mac patted his shoulder.

“But here’s what’s gonna happen, you will either die in this forest or flee from here by the skin of your teeth,” he bluntly stated.

“Oh? And what makes you say that?” He let some amusement drip in his voice.

“Have you not seen the entities that live in this forest?”

“Indeed I have and they are truly a magnificent feature, but they are no match for me,” he arrogantly said.

“…hey Red! I thought you said he was smart?” He yelled out to the tree he had previously jumped from.

“Smart as in he knows some pretty advanced science that even leaves me confused,” the Bull prince said as sat down on the branch next to an anticipating bluenette.

“Oh, well that makes sense, cause if you were really smart then you wouldn’t have even stepped foot in this forest with the intent to kill, even Ever is dangerous despite his looks,” he concluded. Ignoring the faint chuckle from the trees.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He got increasingly agitated at the despairing remark upon his intelligence.

“It means that you have an overinflated ego stuff in between your ears that replaced your brain a long time ago.”

“Meaning?”

“If you had any brain cells then you would have known that you signed your name personally upon Yama book when you stepped foot in this forest, cause let me tell you.” It was at this point that the pressure began to dip as Shun suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe as the trees seemed to loom above him and glowing eyes were gazing upon him from the shadows. “You would have known that we don’t take kindly to people trying to harm our own, especially Dad.”

One by one, the demon, creatures, mythical and animals alike all began to emerge from the shadows with a nasty snarl fresh on their faces.

The Faeries' smiles were sharp with their fanged teeth wide with glee.

Qianglu slithered forward as they let out a terrifying hiss that thrummed in his ears.

The Monkey tribe all had their teeth bared in face of the intruder.

The Shui Gui was grinning happily as he licked his lips in anticipation.

Ní elegantly walked forward as her tails flickered behind her, but her hazel eyes only had sight for the prey.

Even amongst the trees BaBa, much too large to entirely fit in the clearing, kept her bright yellow eye, larger than all the beings in the area itself, gazed upon the scene.

As more and more beasts gathered around, for the first time in a long while, Shun felt fear.

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” MK casually slung the staff over his shoulder as he gave him a parting wave, “Let us show you how we handle intruders.”

Shun ran and ran and ran as fast and as hard as he could. But they followed.

And then he slowly vanished back into the woods as all the creatures that he thought were prey were the predators chasing after him. He really did forget that not creatures show who they truly are at first look, they like to pretend their fickle little insects that scatter at first sight of danger. But if you take a peek beneath the shell then it turns out that there are monsters lurking underneath with their jaws wide awaiting their first morsel.

So, he didn’t leave with a grand finale nor his deserved epic fight to the death. No, he simply blew out like a candle amongst a sea of lights cause in the end he knew what he really was.

Not the feared predator.

No, he was the prey and it was his turn to be feasted upon the monsters.

“Well that was easy,” Yanyu said as she jumped down from the tree.

“You're telling me,” said Red as he followed, then he turned to MK, “Who is Ever anyways?”

MK snapped out of his former personality shift as his cheeks blushed, “It’s Shui Gui, you know, Kappa.”

“Right, right, but what does it stand for?” He pushed, “cause you wouldn’t be blushing like that if there wasn’t something else.”

Mei turned her head to hide her smile.

“It..it stands for Whatever,” he whispered, but Wukong still heard that perfectly clear.

“His name is Whatever?” He confusedly asked for such a strange name.

“I was like seven! You can’t blame me!” He defended himself with arms crossed.

“Huh?”

“Ah the Shui Gui cares not for names,” Red nodded, “so he usually will respond to any. My question is why did you call him whatever out of everything?”

Yanyu snorted loudly.

“I was a kid and I was getting really frustrated with him that I blurted out the first thing in mind! How was I supposed to know that he would actually respond to it! Now he won’t let it go!” He threw his hands up.

At this point both girls are full on laughing at MK's frustration.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” the prince nodded at his various times meeting Kappa. He was indeed the strangest creature in the forest.

“I’m lost,” Wukong deadpanned.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you later,” Mac said as he leaned into the simian. It felt good finally having that bastard out of sight once again.

Wukong did the same as he wrapped his arms back around the other monkey, pulled him a bit closer, and wrapped his tail firmly around the other waist. “You better,” he faintly purred in his ears.

Macaque could barely stop the shiver at the lips so close to his face, but he managed to make it off by just shifting his body to get into a comfortable position.

Though that didn’t stop the Sage from gazing at him as he looked at his long fur once more and just when he was about to open his mouth.

BOOM!

“Alright! Whose ass am I kicking!” Daiyu screeched out as she scanned the scene for the ex boyfriend from hell. They had gotten a call from Yanyu earlier about his ass potentially showing up and they booked it there.

“God fucking Damnit,” Wukong cursed as he reluctantly move slightly away.

“He appears to not be here, Dai,” said Ahmed as he walked into the clearing with Minsheng and Bohai.

“Seemed he had left the coop,” chuckled Sheng as they looked towards everyone, “gave him a good ass kicking I'm guessing.”

“That and he is now currently running from almost every beast in the forest,” MK happily said.

Bohai gave a low whistle, “So he’s not leaving this forest alive then.”

“Nope,” came the response from all.

“That’s what he gets for messing with the King of the Forest,” Mei jokes, earning a groan from Mac.

“Don’t you even start on that.”

“What do you mean your royal highness,” the rabbit cheekily said.

“Don’t!”

“Is there something wrong your majesty,” the vulture said.

“Are you actually-”

“Did we speak out of your magnificence,” Yanyu mockingly bowed.

“Out of place your grace,” Mei courtesy with a sly grin.

“Out of turn your excellency,” MK did something with his hands as he bowed low.

“I swear-”

“Guys let’s all calm down before we get on our imperial majesty's last nerve,” Red casually said.

“Thank you-I swear to all things!”

“Our deepest of apologies your kingliness,” Wukong teased as he pressed closer to him.

“I expected nothing less from you,” he barked at him.

“Alright let’s all settle down,” Ahmed chuckled, “we don’t want to get his reverence too worked up.”

“…fuck it, I’m done for the day!” He threw his hands up and began to march back home. “If any of you guys want food then your ass better be helping me do some shit. It either helps me in the kitchen or checks on the state of the forest, more specifically how everything and everyone is holding up. Preferably the ones going are the ones that don’t mind fighting cause there’s gonna be a lot of those bastards still on edge and need to let loose some steam.”

“Yes, dinner sounds great right about now,” Daiyu said as she spread her wings and took off.

“Count me in!” Minsheng said as they began to hop into the forest.

“Same!” Mei yelled as she raced after them.

“Let me just check in on my gremlins and I will for sure help you out in the kitchen,” Yanyu replied as she took out her phone.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing what else lives in this forest,” Wukong said as he stretched his arms.

“I’ll help you Dad,” MK said as Ahmed followed close behind.

Red Son stood there as the other began to walk away with a bit of uncertainty before Macaque called back to him.

“Are you coming or not?”

“Wait me too?” Red said with some hesitation.

“If I’m letting those lunatics join in then why not,” he raised his brow.

Red gave a slight smile as he caught up and walked beside MK, “What are we making?”

“Mapo Tofu,” said the young adult.

“Will there be any spicy?”

“He has a whole tray filled with them,” MK can almost taste it.

“Yes!”

Also a shout out to Pen-Woman for the lovely idea of Protective kiddos!!

Also longest chapter yet!!! Just over 8000 words!!!

#lego monkie kid #six eared macaque #macaque #mk #lmk mei #monkey king #PlumTeaAU

[yan-twst]

I hope you’re doing all right! I’d like to request yandere headcanons for Trey, Cater, Jack, Silver, and Sebek with a soft darling who clings to them for safety and trusts them too much to disagree with their actions. I hope you’re fine with this!

warnings: general yandere themes, mentions of death / implied violence

trey clover

trey is already a naturally doting person, and of course, this is only amplified when it comes to his darling

he takes full advantage of how clingy they are and how blindly they trust him. he really isn’t above injecting false fears or such just so they stick closer to him. really, trey’s quite thankful it’s as easy as that; no need to physically remove people from around his darling if they’re so willing to distance themselves just because he asks

even though he’s pretty sure they’d go along with anything he offered or did, he makes sure to not be rash. the last thing he wants is them questioning why he’s doing certain things- of course, trey’s end goal is to have his darling all for himself, to have them where they’re exclusively his, his perfect, obedient spouse; they just don’t need to know that quite yet

trey’s got a way with words, and his darling trusting him so naively only gives him more power. he convinces them to pretty much cut off ties with the outside world themselves

he just wants his darling to get used to him being in control. he provides all they need, he takes care of decisions, he says what’s good and what’s not- after all, that’s what lovers do, didn’t they know? good partners should listen to each other, and it’s not like he’s asking anything that outrageous, just to do as he says.

he also uses this to cover any moments when he loses his temper. his darling’s soft, gentle, but sometimes not even that’s enough; perhaps it’s been a long day, maybe it’s just school stress, and it just so happens his darling naively mentions missing their friends; when he loses his temper, yells at them, he’ll still cover it up. oh, all couples fight, it’s normal. t

hey just have to not make him anger- c’mon, they have to put in a little more effort, don’t they love him? stop talking about others and focus on him, yes?

cater diamond

gosh, isn’t his darling adorable? cater can barely believe his luck, really. he almost seems to see his darling as a cute little pet or accessory, with how he’s always taking pictures with them and dragging them along to the latest popular cafe 

the fact his darling’s naturally quite clingy is good, but it also feeds on cater’s... issues. he needs them close, tell him they love him, tell him he’s good- it would perhaps be worrying (it worried them a bit at first, to see how desperate he was to be told those things), but cater always downplays it. no, no, it’s nothing, he just likes to hear them say those things! don’t stray far. stay with him.

of course, them being so trusting means cater’s got plenty of blackmail material. sure, he says he’s just “taking pictures to capture the memory”, since he always seems to be taking pictures with his darling, but really, it’s also good blackmail. he hopes he’s never going to have to use it- he hopes his darling will remain pliant and not realize the sort of trap that is cater’s love- but it’s better safe than sorry, right?

he’s pushy. very, very pushy.  boundaries don’t mean a whole lot to him; if he wants something, he’ll get it. this often leads to him guilt-tripping his darling; if they love him they’ll do this for him, right? they do love him, right?

he expertly paints the relationship as perfect, both through magicam and to outsiders. everyone seems to think cater’s just a doting, maybe a bit overbearing but overall loving boyfriend, that he’s just doing the most for his darling; hell, even his own darling seems to believe it, painfully ignorant as to how ever since they started dating cater they’ve stopped talking to others, or how long it’s been since they’ve gone outside without him

jack howl

he’s protecting them. he’s just making sure they’re ok, he’s just protecting them.

jack cannot help but feel like he has to protect his darling. honestly, at first, he was quite good at controlling his obsession; hell, he didn’t even know he could feel like this until he began dating them

it’s just instinct. it’s just instinct, right? it has to be. the way they always cling to him and talk so sweetly, how they blindly trust him no matter what; he... he has to protect them. after all, they’re so sweet and trusting- what if an evil person tried to take advantage of them?

(he tells himself he isn’t that evil person. he isn’t he isn’t he isn’t. he isn’t making them stay inside because he wants them to be his. he isn’t scaring away their friends because he’s possessive. he’s just- he’s trying to protect them, right? it’s necessary. he’s just protecting his mate. right. yes. that’s all)

of course, it’s not just about protecting them. deep inside, he knows that he isn’t isolating them and making them stay with him just because he’s trying to protect them- this is... it’s not normal, but they trust him so much, so it’s- he can’t help it. they have to be his.

if it’s any consolation to his darling’s friends, who’ve long since been cut off and can only worry from the sides as they watch their friend sink beyond the point of return into jack’s possessiveness, it’s that he won’t harm them. jack may not be willing to let anyone he deems ‘dangerous’ near his darling, and he may have decided their future is to be his mate, but he won’t ever harm a hair on their head

of course, they can be fine; but really, jack’s not scared to get his hands dirty. his darling is so soft, so naive- having to get rid of “threats” is just something he has to do, right? people who try to “rescue” jack’s darling are dealt with swiftly; jack’s training isn’t just for show. what good is his strength if not to protect what is his?

silver

when people ask silver if he finds it annoying to have such a clingy partner, he’s always confused. annoyed? because his darling seeks him out for warmth and protection...? why would he be annoyed at that...?

he assumes the way he feels is normal. this... obsession, this possessiveness;  it’s love, right? he asks lilia, and the fae just chuckles about “young love” and tells silver that he should just “act on his heart’s impulses”

at first, he doesn’t quite get it. he confessed to his darling, he’s dating them now, he kisses them and holds them close when he wants, isn’t he following his heart’s impulses? ... it’s not until the first time he spots a first year kid blatantly trying to flirt with his darling in the halls that he understands. his heart tells him to get rid of that kid.

honestly, silver isn’t shocked his darling just lets him do as he pleases and still stays by his side even as he grows progressively more and more possessive. after all, to him, this is just how love works, this is just how couples are- and they trust him too much to question his actions or correct him

besides, it’s not like being told this sort of thing isn’t normal would help by now. silver doesn’t let anyone close to his darling, with an exception for lilia and maybe malleus; he can’t stand the burning jealousy otherwise

he’ll often ask lilia to “watch over them” when he can’t, be it because he’s accidentally fallen asleep or he’s guarding malleus. lilia, of course, encourages silver’s darling into believing this is all fine and normal

really, as long as they go along with him, they’ll be fine. oh sure, silver has essentially stolen their life away from them: he’s taken their future, their friends, he’s pretty much made him and lilia the only contacts in their life; but they’re fine, aren’t they? 

sebek zigvolt

sebek doesn’t quite comprehend love. this- this twisting, clawing emotion in his chest; is this love? is the burning anger he feels when he sees his darling fooling around or spending time with others love? is his urge to just rip them away from those other low, unworthy students and keep them to himself love?

in the end, it was always bound to end up badly. but it doesn’t help that sebek’s darling is just so trusting, so soft and gentle, feeding into his obsession

at first they don’t even question when he shyly asks for a spare hoodie, just to hold at night. they don’t question when he tells them to spend every break next to him. by the time he’s pretty much telling them to live in his dorm, sebek doesn’t have any shame in asking; he knows they’ll do what he says

it’s like if his darling is unconsciously training him to grow more and more possessive each day. little freedoms taken away still reward him with cuddles and hugs; and sure, this is just because their love language is physical affection, but sebek associates these acts with him being rewarded for his actions

his obsession runs deep enough for sebek to simply remove people who don’t seem to understand his darling is his. perhaps it’s a show of how much his obsession controls him; a retainer of malleus shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t just be killing students for complimenting his darling, shouldn’t be charring the corpses and burying their remains in the forest- but... the burning feeling refuses to disappear until he’s absolutely certain his darling is his alone, and nobody else’s.

at a certain point, sebek seems to be past the “honeymoon” stage. he’ll let off steam and freely reprimand his darling- he told them to not talk about other people, why do they keep asking about their classmates?!  he knows by now that they’ll always apologize and beg for him to not be angry, no matter what- they’ll let him push, push, and push, until they’ve got no choice to bend the way he wants them to

#yandere tw #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #trey clover #cater diamond #jack howl #silver twst #sebek zigvolt #Anonymous #death ment

[square-blunt]

You're in my heart, in my heart, in my head.

The normal empires fic in which shit goes from 0 to -100 to 100 and back to -100 in like, 2000 words. Scott ruins shit bc he's a dumbass in love. Jimmy watches him die. Y'know, the normal fic you'd see on the empires tag. This is a Minecraft Roleplay.

TW- MCD (major character death), Gore, (blood. and like, big knife mention). Angst. there is so much angst- emotional mental physical, it's all that shit. Sacrifice, screaming, crying, and they kiss so that's fun but y'know.

WC: 2009

Ao3: :) Second Chapter: :)

Scott knows something is wrong. He feels that pit in his stomach- familiar emptiness that clouds his vision and his mind. His feet start to move forward. He knows- he knows something's happening.

He knows Jimmy is in trouble.

He hasn't been in Mythland much- but somehow he cuts through trees and knocks over stands almost like he knows exactly where he's going and nothing was gonna stop him from getting there. It's getting dark- that's weird it was just noon-

Scott looks up to see where the sun is. 'This can't get any worse,' he thinks. You're never supposed to fight a demon when there's a solar eclipse, everyone knows that-

Scott hears a scream. It sends his heart up into his throat- that's Jimmy. Scott sprints forward and bursts through the treeline and he's at Sausage's summoning circle- no- no no no-

The sight is terrible. Sausage- his body is practically decaying under the weight of corruption- of possession. Xornoth's possessed the man he once saw as a friend. And Joey's by his side, a book in hand, chanting in elvish. They've crafted an obsidian altar- and writhing in chains, desperately trying to free himself is Jimmy. Tears are streaking down his face, his terror radiating off of him in waves.

Xornoth raises something above their head as the moon fully covers the sun- its last light gleaming off the object- it's a ritual knife.

They're going to sacrifice you- I don't want to lose you. He can hear Jimmy’s voice as clear as day.

Scott screams out a time-shattering “Stop” before he can get a hold of himself.

Everything does stop. Time, space, reality- it feels like Scott’s heart has stopped, too. Sausage looks at him with eyes that aren’t his own; Joey looks at him as well, but his eyes hold no rage or fear, only smugness. His eyes are drawn away as he catches Jimmy’s face. It goes from happiness to confusion, to heartbreak, back to confusion, and then to pure fear.

“Stop,” Scott says it a little quieter this time. His voice rings out against the stilled breeze. There are no birds, no nature, everything around them is either dead or too terrified to make a sound. Xornoth tilts his head, slowly and concerningly calmly. “Step away from him.” Scott’s hand finds itself on the hilt of his sword. Not like there’s much that could do, but he has to do something.

Xornoth laughs. It sounds like Sausage.

“Scott-” Jimmy says, and immediately cries out in pain. Scott looks up- Joey was the one to twist his arm. Under any other circumstances, Scott would have lunged forward and sunk his sword into Joey’s skull, but since Xornoth is still holding a very painful-looking ritual knife, Scott stays put.

“Jimmy, don’t say anything-” Scott begins, his voice tight with panic. Xornoth speaks up before he can continue, Scott’s heart dropping in his chest. His voice sounds like Sausage, too.

“Brother, have you come to replace your lover from another life?” Xornoth’s voice is suffocatingly rich with sarcasm and fake pity.

Scott can’t answer. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He doesn’t- he can’t look at Jimmy.

“I know you remember, great champion of Aeor, I know you do.” Xornoth grins, their face contorting.

“I do, and I have,” Scott says, finally getting over the lump in his throat. The lump comes back tenfold as Xornoth’s grin grows impossibly wider.

“Scott- no- what-” Jimmy begins to say, but Joey quiets him with another yank on his restraints. Xornoth puts a hand out, and Joey drops the ropes.

“You know what I need, brother,” Xornoth says, their voice eerily emotionless.

“Scott- don’t do this-”

“Jimmy, please,” Scott says, closing his eyes to keep the tears at bay, he can’t give Xornoth his own humanity.

“Scott-” Scott winces as Jimmy’s voice breaks. Jimmy doesn’t know, he can’t remember-

Scott takes a deep breath, and once again, speaks before he can tell himself to stop.

“I, Ellinair, take the place of this man so that he might live free of pain or suffering for the rest of his life.” Scott needs to make sure that Jimmy gets off free, with no strings attached. So Xornoth can’t hurt him after he’s gone.

“No- Scott, what have you done- why-” Jimmy sits up, some of the ropes have disappeared but he still can’t leave the altar.

Xornoth laughs- it doesn’t sound like Sausage anymore.

“A great elf with a great future who was stolen in the night and thrown into an arena for the devil’s delight. And you fell in love. How cute!” they snarl, “Unfortunately, as you died, you were whisked away from our grasp. I had to find you again, and wasn’t I lucky that I found your husband instead? And, better yet, without your protection! It was so easy, brother, to just come in and take him. To use him. Sweet, dopey, stupid Jimmy. Why would he be the one tied to that dragon? I kill him, and nothing will happen other than a shortage of slimeballs and a few tears. The only use for him was that he was close to you. He’s nothing but a pawn to get to you. And you, in your blind devotion, played right into my hand. I was never going to kill him, it would honestly be too much effort to do so. I was never going to kill him. I was only threatening to kill him so you would change places with him, so Exor could finally triumph over his brother. You are weak, Ellinair, in your love, in your loyalty- or lack thereof. You always were weak. And now I’ve won. Exor has won because you fell for a mortal. Because of a flower. It’s sickeningly amusing, I must say. But unfortunately, it seems that your time is drawing to a close. Lesser, you may release the ‘bait’.” Xornoth ends their monologue with a direction Scott takes a moment to realize is for Joey, who follows it immediately. Jimmy, now free, lurches off the altar like it was burning him alive. He rushes over to Scott, questions bubbling up and out of him. His hands move to hold Scott’s, but Scott isn’t exactly... present. But he can still hear Jimmy. How he wishes he couldn’t.

“Scott- Scott what’s going on- I thought you- what’s going on? Why did you- Scott- why did you take- what-” Jimmy asks, clutching at Scott’s hands. Scott hangs his head, Jimmy immediately stops and lets him talk.

“Jimmy... you don’t know what you mean to me,” Scott says, tears threatening to fall, he can’t make eye contact with Jimmy.

“I think I can guess, at least,” Jimmy says, voice tight, cupping Scott’s face. Scott still can’t look at him.

“They’re right-” Scott begins to say- before Jimmy tilts Scott’s head to face him and kisses him. It takes Scott a second for his heart and his head to catch up to it- but Jimmy’s kissing him. Finally, after what feels like eons apart, he’s kissing him again. Scott kisses him back like he’s the air he’s gone without breathing for so long- Scott’s been without him for so long- and just when he’s got him back... he quite literally sold his soul for this. Time stops again- this has happened way too many times for it to be normal but Scott wishes it would stop forever. Seconds turn into minutes and it’s like the gods have finally taken pity on him and given him time to give everything he can. He’s sold his soul for Jimmy, and he’s never gonna get to see him again. The tears become too much, and they fall- but Scott would rather die now than break the kiss, so Scott’s tears stain both their cheeks. The kiss tastes the same it always did, like Jimmy, and it was heart-achingly familiar.

Scott can’t live without it.

Funny.

He won’t live much longer anyway.

He is hyper-aware of Jimmy’s grip on him, on his face, in his hair, holding him close like they would melt together if they could.

Maybe Jimmy needs him as much as Scott.

And fuck, he needed Jimmy.

He needs to feel as much of Jimmy as he can before all he feels is a knife through his chest.

But right now all he cares about are the hands on his chest where the knife will go- the hands that are gonna be gone soon- Scott hasn’t been counting the seconds how long has it been- how long has Jimmy been kissing him- how long has he been kissing back- how long do they have left? Scott wraps his arms around Jimmy, trying to become inseparable- and Jimmy just holds onto him tighter. One of them sobs into the other- and all Scott can think is I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you- and he hopes Jimmy can hear him.

They both can hear a sickening crunch, instead.

As time crashes back into Scott's reality like a freight train, a number of things happen in rapid succession.

Jimmy is torn away, crying out in pain. It's familiar. Scott's tears break their dam and his vision is blurred- but he can still see Jimmy, sweet, dopey, beautiful Jimmy.

As Jimmy gets jerked backward, his and Scott's grip tightens on each other, and Jimmy's screams of agony make Scott want to throw up.

It takes everything Scott has to stay in place and keep Jimmy with him.

"'Scott something's on my back- something's hooked into me-"

"Jimmy- don't let go- please, please don't let go- I love you, please-"

"I won't- Scott- don't- I love you, too, I love you, too-"

Something cold sinks into Scott's shoulder, sending searing hot pain across his body- and making his arm go limp.

Scott and Jimmy are ripped apart from each other.

Scott screams for Jimmy and thrashes around, trying desperately to free himself, sobs ringing in his skull and fear and pain and regret raking through his body- but he refuses to stop looking at Jimmy, and Jimmy still looks at him. He catches a glimpse of what’s hooked onto Jimmy's back- it’s a massive tendril of corruption, and now it's holding Jimmy suspended in the middle of the air- it looks like it hurts him to breathe, much less call out Scott's name, but it's all in vain.

Scott knows he's going to die.

He gave his word.

But that doesn't mean he's not going to try and get away.

He needs to get away.

He needs to scream and cry and writhe and brace himself against the altar that whatever's hooked into his shoulder is trying to drag him onto.

He needs Jimmy to know how sorry he was because he’s gone and fucked it all up now. He thought he’d be able to play it off to Jimmy as ‘you don't deserve to die in my place' but when Jimmy looked at him with pure heartbreak and fear in his eyes he knew that he was doing it to save him.

Not the world.

Jimmy was his world.

Scott loses the fight and is dragged up onto the altar, where tendrils of dark crimson threaten to bury him alive, and one-handed he tries to swat them off. He can feel his power draining, he knows Joey's probably chanting again, but all he hears is Jimmy. He looks back, and Jimmy is still struggling and sobbing and Scott has to keep fighting to stay alive as long as possible just to be able to see Jimmy for as long as possible.

But the tendrils are growing in number, and Scott can’t keep all of them at bay and slowly he’s overtaken and restrained. The metal hook still sits painfully in his shoulder as his energy drains with his blood, he’s lost the power to scream.

Jimmy hasn’t.

Scott hangs onto that.

Scott hangs onto Jimmy’s screams, his sobs, his ‘Please stop’s, his ‘why him’s, Scott hangs onto the feeling of rage- at his brother and their tool hurting Jimmy like this- but the rage stays heavy on his chest. Rage and fear and pain swirl in his mind and every other emotion drains out of him.

All he knows is terror.

All he knows is Jimmy’s sobs.

He knows that he has seconds left- Xornoth’s probably already gotten the knife back up above his head.

All Scott can offer to Jimmy, all that he has left, is a weak smile of comfort before every sense he has cuts out.

Scott can’t see Jimmy.

He can’t hear Jimmy.

He’s failed everyone he’s ever known.

#i'll write the second chapter eventually. #this sucked posting this was awful #i fucking hate ao3 #gods fucking damnit #anyways #gremfics #empires #empires smp #Esmp #scott smajor #empires!scott #empires!jimmy #Jimmy solidarity #Solidarity gaming #Xornoth #empires!Joey #flower husbands #flower husbands angst #death tw #gore tw #uh #thats it? #i hate tagging #so fucking much

[preciouspeterbparker]

i wish i were

inspired by conan gray’s “heather”

warnings: stepsibling incest (not yet but that’s the whole premise), underage masturbation, underage sex, angst. peter’s like 16 and a half, Tony’s almost 18

word count: 2.2k

summary: peter’s in love with his big brother. no biggie. (spoiler alert: it’s a big deal)

(A/N: okay this has been living in my head rent free for over a month. i've written more, but it's not fully fleshed out yet. 

i figured i would post this and see if anyone is interested in reading it before i put a bunch more effort in lmao. this is filth. most of the angst comes later lololol (and more filth).

i hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think / if you'd like to read more!

- bloo)

PART ONE

Peter stands at his locker, desperately trying to blend in and remain unseen as he switches out his English textbook for Physics. The school year is basically over, given that it’s the last week of May but he’s still not comfortable in the junior-senior hallway. He’s always been the youngest (and therefore smallest) kid in most of his classes, given that he’s been in the ‘gifted & talented’ track since middle school. (He’s on track to graduate next year, taking his last few mandatory classes and completing an internship for additional credit.) This year, Peter feels even smaller than usual; maybe because most of the seniors are already eighteen, while as a sophomore, he isn’t even seventeen. He doesn’t have many friends this year, because of it. Ned moved away last summer because his dad got a new job, and, well, he’d never really needed more than Ned before. 

“Hey Pete-squeak,” comes a voice from behind, making him jump. Rolling his eyes, Peter pivots slightly to face the newcomer. The infestation of butterflies that he's been harboring for the past few months begins to flutter immediately, tickling the walls of his stomach as his cheeks flush lightly.

The voice belongs to a tall (or, well, taller than Peter, anyway), ridiculously handsome boy with dark hair and dark eyes, walking towards Peter with his hands in his pockets. The cheeky smirk on his face is all but permanent, but the small, genuine smile it slips into is something that Peter holds close to his chest, something that is typically reserved for him.  

Tony, his older brother, is pretty much Peter's favorite person in the world. Technically, he’s Peter’s step brother. Maria, his mom, and Peter’s dad Richard got married when Peter was a year old and Tony was almost three. They’d essentially spent their whole lives together; neither of them could really remember anything before. They’ve always been close, but that’s changed a little bit this year.

“Hey Tony,” Peter chirps, reaching back into his locker to grab his physics binder. He tries to act natural, even though he feels anything but. His heart’s going a mile a minute inside his rib cage. He feels a little ridiculous, he has for the past few months. Swallowing, he manages to sound relatively calm. “You read the last 2 chapters of Beowulf, right? Mrs. Herrera gave us a pop quiz last period.” 

The older teen groans. Closing his eyes, he throws his head back, a metallic thunk sounding as it collides with the locker he’s leaning back on. “Fucking hell. The final paper is due in like four fucking days! Is that not enough?” It’s quiet for a moment as Tony pauses before he opens one eye, cutting it to look at Peter. “What were the answers?” 

Peter snorts in response, shutting his locker. “Not happening, T.”  He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time and lets the left side of his body rest against the cool metal. Three minutes til the bell rings, and Mr. Riley’s class is right across the hall. So he’s essentially got three minutes to indulge himself and the fuzzy warmth that’s running through his veins. He loves any time he gets to spend with Tony. “You’re lucky I told you at all, be grateful.” 

Tony wrinkles his nose at him. “Rude,” he scoffs in mock offense. “I know you can remember them,” comes his teasing accusation. (And he’s right. Peter can recall the entirety of the quiz, but he’s still not going to enable Tony.) Then he pauses and raises an eyebrow at his younger brother. “Is that my sweatshirt?” The garment in question is a worn and slightly faded black Led Zeppelin USA 1977 crewneck sweatshirt. Peter’s wearing it over a charcoal and white check button-up. The sweatshirt is one of Tony’s favorite pieces of clothing, he wears it all the time (hence why Peter...borrowed it...without asking).

Having mentally prepared himself to be questioned at some point, Peter’s reply is already on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah, it ended up in my laundry and once I put it on it was too cozy to take off. And it looks good with these jeans and the button-up. And my boots. Trying out a new look,” he finishes, smiling as he pushes his glasses further up his nose. Tony often teased him about the thick, clear-but-slightly-pink frames, but Peter hadn’t wanted glasses at all (he doesn’t need any more reasons to be teased, thank you), but he likes these. They make him look cute, more feminine. More like someone Tony could want. 

“You’re right,” Tony smiles. One of his hands comes up to playfully ruffle at Peter’s russet hair. “Looks great on you, kid.” There’s warm affection in his voice. 

Peter feels his cheeks go hot again, and he wills the flush to go away. He can’t take compliments from Tony, now- they make him ache and preen simultaneously. He knows that Tony doesn’t mean it the way he wants. Peter knows that Tony would never speak to him again if he knew what was really going on inside his little brother’s head. The thought makes him sick to his stomach. 

Speaking of stomachs. “Hey,” he starts as he fingers through the papers in his physics binder, attempting to find the problem set that’s due today. “Did you ever catch up on Hell’s Kitchen? I’ve been rewatching episodes trying to wait for you, but you’re taking too long. You saw the episode where Gordon-” Peter’s heart falls to his stomach and he abruptly stops speaking when he looks up to notice that Tony isn’t looking at him anymore, barely seems to be listening. 

It falls completely out of his ass when he sees just what, just who, has stolen his attention. 

“Sorry, Pete, gotta go,” Tony mutters once he realizes that Peter’s stopped talking, shooting him a hasty smile and shoving off the navy metal. He skirts past Peter, a slight skip in his step as he makes his way down the hallway. 

Peter's swallows and clenches his jaw as he watches his brother walk straight to her, the bane of his existence. The reason he and Tony don’t spend as much time together anymore. The object of Tony’s affections. Pepper. She's...everything Peter wishes he could be, honestly. Tall, somehow a perfect mix of skinny & curvy, bright blue eyes, long strawberry-blonde hair. She's perfect. And not only in looks; she's also ridiculously smart. If Tony wasn’t valedictorian, she surely would be. She even volunteers at the local soup kitchen every weekend, and Peter’s pretty sure she reads to dogs at the animal shelter once a month. He hates that Pepper is so nice; he hates that he can't hate her without hating himself for it. 

As if he didn't have enough self-loathing already.

***

Peter exits the bathroom that connects his bedroom with Tony’s after gently flicking the lock on his brother’s door to disengage it, the soft ‘snick’ ridiculously loud in the quiet of the house. He’s the only one home; Mom and Dad are at some sort of event for Dad’s law firm, and Tony went to a party at Rhodey’s house. (Tony had insisted that Peter was invited, but he had to know that the younger would never go- why would he want to be surrounded by drunk, horny, belligerent teenagers? The last thing he wanted to see was Tony and- )

There’s a dark gray towel loosely wrapped around his waist, so loose he has to clutch it in his hand to keep it from falling. He closes his own bathroom door behind him and drops the towel, digging through his underwear drawer to pull out a random pair of plaid boxers. 

After sliding them on, the brunette takes a deep breath and lays back against the pillows, arms behind his head. He tries to consciously relax his muscles, the tension of the day not having melted away during his shower like he had hoped. Time for Plan B. It’s never let him down before. Peter reaches for his phone and unlocks it before swiping through his apps to open Spotify. The sound of “Dazed and Confused” fills the air through his speakers, and he sets it to repeat on a loop. It’s a little fucked up, the way he’s conditioned himself to respond to this song, but- Peter knows the whole thing is fucked up; he’s fucked up. 

Closing his eyes, he does the only thing he’s been capable of for months: he thinks of his older brother. 

He’s growing fond of the new facial hair Tony’s trying out; he wonders how it would feel against his skin. Which areas would be the most sensitive to its touch? His thighs? His neck? Peter’s head tilts back and to the side as he imagines wet, warm lips and the scratch of stubble. Just the thought, the phantom sensation, makes a soft mewl leave his mouth. It’s a little ridiculous how easy he can get himself going, when he thinks of Tony’s touch, of his body. Of his love. In his boxers, his cock shifts against his thigh as it begins to fill out. 

The sensual, plucky bassline and wailing guitars of the song drag along, and so does Peter’s breathing as he brings a hand up to pinch at one of his nipples. He imagines the way Tony would tease him until he was whining, begging for release. He supposes it wouldn’t be dissimilar to his older brother’s typical manner of playfully taunting him. Maybe Tony would pin him down like he did when they were younger, climb on top of him and hold him there with the muscles he’s gained from boxing in the garage. The opportunities he’s had to see the older teen breathing heavy, shirtless and glistening with sweat, would be forever ingrained in his mind. The mental image sends more blood rushing south and his dick throbs as it quickly reaches full hardness, drawing a gasp from his mouth. 

Peter takes himself in hand, studying the details of his cock. He knows he’s not huge, but he’s at least on the larger side of average. It’s flushed a deep, mauve-y pink, and he traces the line of a vein on the side with the tip of his pinkie. A shiver shoots down his spine. He wonders how similar it is to Tony’s. Is he circumcised like Peter is? Is he bigger? Longer, thicker even? Sure, he’s seen him naked before, when they were younger changing or in the bath, but that stopped around the time Tony was seven or eight. 

(Tony and Peter had come home from school one day, and Peter’s head had been reeling over what he heard some older girls saying on the bus. He’d decided to ask Tony about it. His big brother knew everything. ...Mom & Dad caught them kissing in their bedroom. That was the end of bathing together, and Tony got his own room, too. Peter never forgot about the way his big brother’s lips felt against his own.) 

A bead of precum oozes out of his tip and Peter rubs his thumb over it, smearing the liquid over his cockhead. Robert Plant’s voice moans over the speaker and Peter echoes the sound as he slowly strokes himself with a loose grip, his hole tightening around nothing. Biting his lip, he hesitates before slipping his left pointer finger into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it sloppily. Once it’s wet, he reaches down and gently presses the pad of his finger against the tightly furled muscle between his cheeks. His breath hitches as the sensation; he’s only touched himself down here a couple of times before. 

The tip of his finger begins to breach his opening and a whine leaves Peter’s mouth. It stings a bit so he tries to relax, muscles fluttering, making a mental note to grab some lube next time he goes to the drugstore. He wants to be able to stretch himself out more, to imagine Tony’s fingers, Tony’s cock, splitting him open and stuffing him full. Fuck-

Tightening his grip on the base of his cock, Peter grits his teeth and grunts softly as he pulls his finger from his ass. He can’t cum yet- he’s not done. He reaches under his pillow, pulling out the balled-up t-shirt that’s taken up residence there. The black fabric has faded in some spots, and the Black Sabbath logo is cracked and worn; it’s one of Tony’s favorite shirts. Peter brings the soft cloth up to his nose, fumbling with it to find the area with the strongest smell. There are hints of Tony’s Old Spice deodorant mixed with a scent that’s distinctly Tony, a warm, masculine musk that has saliva pooling in Peter’s mouth. Delirious, fucking his hand to the beat, he wishes he had dug a little further in the hamper, pulled out a pair of Tony’s briefs. 

That’s the thought that does him in. Peter cums into his fist, gasping his brother’s name, the sound getting muddled in the maelstrom of guitar and drums. Thick ropes of jizz splatter on his stomach and chest, entire abdomen heaving with his breaths. 

He wipes the mess up with Tony’s t-shirt before tucking the fabric back under his pillow for safe keeping.

to be continued???

#starker #starkercest #peter parker x tony stark #peter x tony #bloo writes bad things (tm)

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - June 27

Happy Sunday!! Here’s what I’ve been reading this week. As always, leave your fic authors some love if you read and enjoy their stories! 

**Indicates my recent favs 

~*~ 

***A Meeting of Minds by Nix (CrimsonQuills) (Extremis/17k) 

As it turns out, the Extremis hadn't quite finished rewriting Tony's brain. The only potential fix has...consequences.

***the least difficult of men by isozyme (Ultimates/46k) 

It isn’t until Tony watches Steve lean into the punch that he thinks oh, this is going to be a problem.

Steve’s taking hits on purpose in the field, so Tony suggests a safer option. It's simple: Tony smacks Steve around, Steve gets the pain fix he’s looking for, everyone leaves happy. Things do not stay simple.

The one with repressed masochist Steve and sadist Tony and everyone getting off on pain a whole bunch.

we’re not broken so please come home by IronSwordStarShield (SweetFanfics) (Civil War Fixit/56k) 

“What I’m saying is,” Tony says when he catches her puzzled look. “I don’t know what could happen. Just because we don’t want to talk to each other now doesn’t mean that’s how it’s going to be forever. Who knows. Something might happen that’ll get us talking and we’ll be back at where we were. Maybe even better friends.”

Tony’s words are like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds. In fact, a particular part of his statement sparks an idea. If the whole issue because Tony and Steve can be solved if they talk, then maybe all someone has to do is create a situation where they can talk, right?

--

Kamala has a plan. It is called “Operation Make Tony and Steve Friends Again" and it'll work. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully...

righting the wrongs by fuzzyhamish, masterlokisev159 (ABO/18K) 

After becoming the new lord to the famous manor of Manhattan, Steve is given a gift.

Never would he have pictured the gift to become so much more.

Steve is given an omega concubine. The omega is beautiful.

remember when by samptra (WinterSoldier Steve/16k) 

Tony reached for the file opening it slowly, on top was a memorandum filled with dark black lines of redacted information. Clever hazel eyes widened as he skimmed through the text and the horrible truth became clearer.

“There were two?” he mumbled.

Fury hummed, “It would appear the history books got it wrong, Erksine used the serum twice….once on James Barnes, known as Captain America and the other, his best friend, a man named Steve Rogers.”

Tony leafed through the old papers, “How did we not know?”

Fury leaned forward than looking surprisingly pensive, "They scrapped the program, and Barnes was turned over to do bond drives with the war effort, while Rogers…he was sent to a secret facility.”

***simply the best by iam93percentstardust (Schitts Creek AU/19K)

 After running away from his past, Steve finds himself in a small town called Schitt's Creek, where a young witch needs help putting together the paperwork to open up his store.

//

A Schitt's Creek fusion with a magical twist

hollow by FestiveFerret (Endgame/8K) 

His hair is flat, patchy, and too long. He's sweaty now from holding himself up, pasting his hairline to his gaunt, wan skin. Though it looks more like parchment paper than skin: waxy and somehow not enough, even though there's less of him for it to stretch over. Everything's pointy and angled and

Hollow.

a furious vexation by Annie D (scaramouche) (Post-Apocalyptic AU/4K) 

Tony gets an intruder. A post-apocalypse AU.

splenitudinous figment of wonder by Annie D (scaramouche) (Post-Apocalyptic AU/13K)

 A post-apocalypse AU where Steve, leader of a dangerous gang, has stolen Tony to keep for himself. All Tony wants is to survive the experience.

something missing by samptra (MCU/14K) 

Something is missing in Steve’s life, unsure what, he finds himself looking in all the wrong places when he should be looking right in front of him.

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by ballpoint (Ultimates/6k) 

Steve is on the run from the Ultimates, goes to Stark to see if he knows anything. Finds some sort of comfort instead.

welcome to the world of tomorrow by dorcas_gustine (PWP/5K) 

The future is bright. And has ball-gags, apparently.

time, it needs time, to win back your love again by lomku (Time Loop/9k) 

“So what are we going to do about it?”

“Now? Now I’m going to beat you bloody.”

Steve remembers, and he goes to Tony to confront him, but in the ensuing fight, a time loop is created, trapping Steve and Tony together. Will they be able to set their differences aside long enough to work on breaking the time loop?

glide me towards you by GotTheSilver (PWP/6k) 

“The thing is,” Tony says, once he’s taken another sip of wine. “I don’t know if I can be friends with you.”

“Oh,” Steve says, this broken sound that Tony doesn’t think he’s ever heard come out of Steve’s mouth before. “I can—I’ll—”

“Because,” Tony interrupts in a rush before Steve can finish. “I’d want more from you. I’d want you. All of you. And I know you’re not interested, I get that, but—”

“Why would you think that I’m not interested?”

dick drunk by mistymountainking (616 PWP/17K) 

“I’m going to fuck you stupid,” Steve says, pulling away only a fraction of an inch to say it, a promise as deep and certain as the look in his eyes, “and you’re going to take it. Aren’t you, Tony.”

Tony wants a drink. Steve gives him something else.

happenstance and all that by gottalovev (MCU Get Together/7k) 

It's been six months since the Battle of New York and Tony is exhausted. The last thing he expected on Christmas' Eve was to meet Steve Rogers again by accident, in Central Park.

#stevetony weekly #stevetony fic rec #fic recs #stony fics #steve rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #iron man #captain america

[chunhua-s]

FOR THOSE WITHOUT THEIR SOULMATES ➽ HAJIME IWAIZUMI x READER

requested by: @aiiishiiiteru

➪ hmm mayhaps i could request some iwa fluff 👉👈 (ofc hehe), mmm maybe of him finally being able to confess how he feels to his best friend or anything fluffy with iwa please mwah 😚

genre: fluff

soulmate au: among the general population, only a select handful are born with soulmates. how do those without find love?

warnings: uhhhh this is my first time writing for iwa and i hope i did well for my darling wife nona 🥺 this reader insert will be neutral in appearance since it’s a request!

hajime iwaizumi isn’t one of the chosen few who are born with a soulmate. there’s no writing on his body, or special birthmarks, and he doesn’t hear whatever song his imaginary destined partner listens to. but that doesn’t stop his heart from racing whenever he thinks of you.

the you who put the stars in his night sky and danced under the moonlight with everything made of joy and happiness and unadulterated laughter. the you who sang the graces of the morning sun to him and played melodies of lavender meadows, where he could lose himself in everything that you had to offer. thoughts of you spin his world on its axis and pulls it along to a sweet tune that he can’t get enough of — the tune is every single word that falls from your lips, he latches on to them and drinks them up like the gospel itself. he considers, more than once, whenever he gets lost in your starlit eyes as you excitedly laugh about whatever you’re telling him; this must be what it’s like to have a soulmate. it must be the way your eyes shine with mirth and joyous laughter, the way it all sends bolts of electricity through his body. each and every part of him wants to hold you for longer than he’s allowed to as your best friend, and there are nights where he pictures himself crossing that blurred line and stepping into your court to kiss your hands, your cheeks, your nose and your lips. he’s hungry for everything that you’ll give him, but he hesitates, locks his hands in metal binds and ties them around his heart because he’s so afraid that if he does step into your court, that you’ll step away and put a divide between you. hajime iwaizumi loves you too much to consider losing you on his feelings, and so he seals them behind his lips and never dreams of showing them to your eyes that shine like midnight stars.

he exhales on a heavy breath, his body falling back into his mattress as the sappy kdrama’s credits play on. next to him is you, laying on your stomach to turn around and look back at him with a familiar grin that forms crescent moons on your eyes.

“so??” you urge eagerly, “what’d you think??”

he sighs once more, gazing at you from his comfortable place on his bed with his hands folded behind his head. he tries to ignore the fluttering of his heart at the sight of your smile, though it’s a losing battle as he sees you waiting for his answer. “i think,” he begins, lets his word hang in the air for dramatic suspense before he grins teasingly, “that you’re a hopeless romantic if you really enjoy stuff like this.”

he easily catches the pillow that you chuck at his head, his grin growing wider as he takes in your look of mock offense from his words. “it’s true!” he laughs, “it’s not like it’s anything new— you’ve always been like that!” he watches the way that you push your lower lip into a pout and tries his best not to let his heart run out of his chest. hajime iwaizumi wants to keep his affections for you a secret, but you make it harder for him to do so without even trying.

“well i take pride in my hopeless romantic lifestyle,” you huff, groaning with the effort it takes you to sit up and face him, legs folded beneath your body and arms pressing down into the mattress.

“oh yeah?” he rumbles with a chuckle on his lips. his gaze softens in something like a sleepy daze that causes your heart to flutter in your chest. he looks handsome like this, you think; he looks at you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world, and it causes the affections that you’ve been fighting down since high school to stir around inside your stomach and threaten to pour from your lips. iwaizumi’s right about you — you are a hopeless romantic, and you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend.

you pout, feigning annoyance as you turn your head away with a ‘hmph!’ hajime’s quick to recognize the beginnings of your pettiness and shuts it down quickly by wrapping his arms around your midsection, pulls you into his chest as your laughter rings out inside his room. he revels in the sound of it as his fingers dance around your sides, drawing more sounds of innocent happiness from you as you topple on top of him. “what was that?” he hums over your giggles, easily thwarting your playful resistance and turning you over on your back. he straddles your lower body with his legs and resumes his attack. “still wanna catch an attitude with me? hm?”

tears form on your eyes from your laughter as you push at his stomach, admiring the hard feel of his abs in the back of your mind as your cheeks begin to redden with all your giggling. “i wasn’t—” you gasp, “i wasn’t having an attitude!”

iwaizumi paused momentarily, allowing you to catch your breath beneath him. your face is flushed and your hair’s a mess; your lashes are wet with your joyful tears as you desperately swallow what air he’s allowing you to. the thought that comes to him is intrusive and causes his mind to hit against a sudden wall: you look absolutely blissed out.

he recognizes the danger and quickly tries to withdraw, moving to lay next to you instead of straddling your waist as naturally as he could manage. “uh-huh, sure—” the words are lost on his tongue, stolen by a moment of surprise when you suddenly push against his shoulders, climbing on top of him with vengeance gleaming in your eyes. confusion sounds dull beneath the sound of blood rushing through his body when your hands try to mimick his earlier ministrations on his sides, though as he recognizes what you’re trying to do, he grows a smug grin when your own smile falters slightly.

“huh?” you sound out. your fingers pause when you don’t get the reaction you sought for. there’s no panic or uncontrolled laughter that comes from the man beneath you, no pleas for mercy like you imagined hearing. there’s only hajime’s wide lipped smile that’s full of all the confidence that you’ve seen on the court, when he knows a set comes directly to his open palm for him to steal a victory. “huh??” you complain again.

“(y/n),” he smirks, propping himself up on his elbows, pretends that his face isn’t as close to yours as it appears to be in that moment. he feels the hunger and yearning for you turning in his chest like giant waves against the ocean cliff, but for these few seconds, hajime iwaizumi wants to be selfish. he wants to believe that the light shining in your (e/c) eyes isn’t just an illusion; that the reflection of the years he spend pining over you isn’t just a figment of his wishful imagination. in this moment, hajime can pretend that you love him too. he realizes too late that his broad grin has melted into something tender that pulls at your heart, and his next words come out on a whisper that he’s so scared to let out, for fear that it would break the fragile air that had settled around the pair of you. “i’m not ticklish.”

“you’re not?” the question you give to him is redundant, though every intelligent thought has long since faded from your mind, leaving behind nothing but the sight of the boy you love looking up at you as if gravity’s pulling him into you. right now, the green colour of his eyes are like emeralds in the darkness of his room, the light from his laptop causing them to glow so beautifully that you forget how to breathe. when your mouth opens, you’re certain that he can hear your heart crying out for him beneath the breaking in your voice as you breathe out a helpless “oh.”

the world slows, trickles until it stops, leaving the both of you in a pocket of time where the only thing that the only thing you hear is your hearts beating in tandem. the bump, bump, bump that bounces from your chest to his, the rushing of blood that sings on ballads and romance melodies, his eyes that pull you in and tangle you up in red strings, it’s enough to overwhelm you and drown your senses. it’s so much, it’s too much that it causes your eyes to sting behind unshed tears that blur his face beneath you. you don’t know why he’s leaning forward, but you don’t think too much of it when you meet him halfway — you can’t think about how’s of why’s when your lips are touching his, just like you’d imagine them doing so many times before. you feel your world tilting on its axis and something explodes inside your chest, your entire body feels as if it lights up with an all consuming flame as his mouth moves against yours. your breath vanishes on winter’s winds and leaves you desperate for air, desperate for more of him when your hands reach out for his face to pull him even closer. everything you’ve felt, every moment you’ve spent loving him is poured out from between your lips and he drinks it up like a man whose walked through the desert, like you’re the oasis that he’s been reaching out to for so long that the taste of you burns him deliciously. his heart sings your name in praise and glory when he pulls away from you, and he finds himself wanting so much more from you when he catches the sight of (e/c) fire that burns on embers in your eyes.

“oh...”

he can’t fight the smile that takes over his face at your weak voice. it’s hard to build his thoughts into anything comprehensible when he’s struggling to breathe again, basking in your weight on top of him and his arms locked unto your waist. your gaze on him is dazed, as if you’re wrapped up in a dream, wrapped up in him, and you look so perfect, so unreal, that he wonders if it’s a dream. “oh,” he echoes; his voice sounds deeper and rumbles with something that makes your body tremble. you burn with the feeling of it, you let it erase logic from your mind as you melt into his searing gaze.

“so, uh,” you stutter, “are we—” the words trap themselves inside your throat, hiding behind your lips as if speaking them would break you from this moment in time and cast you out from an illusion you don’t want to wake up from.

iwaizumi lifts one hand to hold your cheek, he runs his thumb across the reddening skin and smiles when your own hand comes up to hold on to him. the picture is so tender, so sweet and filled with the love that the both of you feel for each other; here in his room, nothing exists outside of the both of you, your world becomes iwaizumi and (y/n). “do you want to be?” he asks you gently. he hopes that you don’t notice the way he holds his breath and anticipates the words that you’ll say next, fearing that he’ll hear a rejection despite the way that you’re looking at him right now as if he held your heart in the palm of his hands.

he feels his breath escape on a single sigh when you nod, tears glistening in your eyes as you squeeze his hand. it’s so surreal to him, how within these passing seconds, he’s suddenly acquiring everything he’s ever wanted. it’s as if he only blinked and you’ve somehow become his on a single breath, and it causes his head to spin, he feels as if he’s been swept off his feet and tumbles past the softness of his mattress. he’s holding you so closely, the world in his hands and he can only laugh when you press your lips to his again. everything feels right, as if it’s all slotted into place around him and built a universe out of star-kissed dreams and galaxies that shine brighter than the sun. you are his galaxy, the woman who spins his world on its axis and pulls him into her each time.

he decides, as he holds your body and falls with his devotion, that even if he doesn’t have someone’s name printed on his body, or even if there’s no red string that connects him to someone halfway across the world, that he wouldn’t want a soulmate if it wouldn’t be you.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

tadaaa!!! so i added a small twist to the original request to add it to the soulmate universe but for the most part i stayed true to it! writing for iwa like this made my heart a lil softer for him ngl 🤧 nona you have excellent taste in men. honestly iwa would be such a sweet boyfriend — i picture him as a place of comfort and someone who would always be there no matter what, like i don’t know how to explain it but.......... he’s quietly reliable? he won’t always declare it like someone like daichi or asahi would, but you’re always aware that he’ll be there for whatever you need him for, like he reminds you in small ways without actually meaning to push that point. he reassures you without trying to!

this is part of a series, so please send me an ask or dm if you’d like to be apart of a taglist! i’m currently taking request for haikyuu characters and soulmate au’s, so please come and leave your requests for those as well! thank you for reading!  ♡

taglist: @nishiya-is-baby @aiiishiiiteru

previous: wakatoshi ushijima | next stop: atsumu miya!

ps: even if the next spot is taken by a character, you can still send in requests! don’t be shy :D

#haikyuu!! soulmate au 💕✨ #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu!! #hq!! x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu soulmate au #nona!! 💐 #iwaizumi hajime x reader

[elizabeethan]

Forget What I Said (It’s Not What I Meant) 3/3

His laugh is self deprecating. It’s almost hateful as he shakes his head and turns away from her. “I want you, love, more than anything. But I don’t want to be your secret. I’m not willing to sit around and wait for you to come to your senses. If you don’t have feelings for me as I do you, then I think you should go.”

“Hook,” she tries again uselessly.

“Please,” he begs, refusing to look her way for the first time. “I’ve known enough heartbreak in my life. I’ve learned to prevent it where I can.”

Hey! It’s @donteattheappleshook‘s birthday so I decided to post the last part of this story :) Also, we’re aware that we’re basically writing the same fic. That’s how this all started. so enjoy a double dose of Neverland nonsense. Originally posted for @neverlandnewyear

Thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for being a kick ass beta and even better friend!

rated E for smut and language

~7400 words

Part 1, Part 2

Read on Ao3

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschazi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18​ @xhookswenchx​ @winterbaby89​ @swampmedusa​ @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells​ @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook

She’s fine. Everything is totally and completely fine. Nothing is bothering her. 

 That’s what she tells herself when she sees Hook and Tink walk into Granny’s a week after his hardcore rejection of her. She nearly chews a hole through her straw. 

 “Mom,” Henry says, probably not for the first time, as he waves at her to get her attention. “Mom, I have to go to school.” 

 “Right, right, I know,” she responds, wiping her mouth with her napkin and scooting to the edge of the bench. 

 “You don’t have to walk me, you know.” 

 “I want to,” she says with a smile. She does want to, any chance she gets to spend time with her son is a gift. Any chance she gets to spend time away from Hook is also a gift. She walks to the register and notes Ruby’s gaze, deep and adoring as she stares in Hook’s direction. Of course. 

“Sorry,” she says once her attention is brought back. “Checking out?”

 “Yeah,” Emma grumbles, taking out her wallet and handing some cash to Ruby. 

 She sighs longingly as she counts the cash, hardly looking down, then says, “you guys were in Neverland together, huh?” 

 Emma rolls her eyes and takes her change, unable to answer before Henry calls for her from the door. She exits the diner, and it takes way too much effort to not look back at Hook as she does so. 

 By the time she gets to the station, her mood is less than sunny, but that doesn't stop her father from shouting, “good morning, sunshine!” as she walks in. 

 Mumbling a greeting in his direction, she sits at her desk and tries to ignore the anger bubbling up inside her. How could he move on that quickly? How could he tell her that he has feelings for her and then start hanging around with her? He knows she has walls, she just didn’t expect him to give up scaling them so quickly. She thought she meant more to him than that. 

 She isn’t sure why meaning more to him than that is so important to her.

 Sadness, she thinks. What she’s feeling isn’t anger, it’s sadness. She’s sad that she lost him. Sure, she’s mad at him for rejecting her, but she has to assume that the constant desire to break down and cry is more due to her sadness at their… well, it isn’t a breakup. 

 “Hon,” she hears from the office door, jumping back into reality with a start. “You got a minute?”

 “Sure,” she sighs, sitting back in her chair as David walks in and makes himself at home. 

 With a soft smile, he sits in the chair across from her and folds his hands over her crossed knees. “So,” he starts. “What’s up?” 

 She lets out a suspicious laugh, giving him a look of incredulity. “Not much, you?”

 David smiles again and shakes his head. “I mean what’s going on? What’s up with you lately?” 

 “Ah,” she laughs. “Just jumping right into it, are we?” 

 “More my style,” he explains, and she laughs again. “Emma, something’s clearly on your mind, and I think I know what it is.” 

 She looks up at him through her lashes shyly and shrugs. “I guess.” 

 “You’ve got a lot of pressure on you right now. And I’m sure a lot of people want you to make… difficult decisions.” 

 “It shouldn’t be this difficult,” she says without thinking much. But her father’s right. She is getting pressured from almost everyone she knows. She wants nothing more than to make Henry happy, but if it’s at the expense of her own happiness, is it worth it? Does thinking that way make her a bad mom? Is choosing her own happiness worth the backlash she’s sure to get? When did Hook become her happiness? “If you thought you were coming in here to tell me to be with Neal, don’t even bother.” 

 “Oh, I’m not here to push you in one direction or another. Just to tell you I understand.” 

 “You do?” 

 “Sure,” he shrugs. “You know who doesn’t? Your mother.” 

 She lets out a hearty laugh now, her first in weeks, and asks, “what makes you say that?” 

 “Well, she believes in your first love being your true love. She thinks that if you had love for Neal back then, then you must have love for him now.” 

 “I do,” she sighs. “But I can’t just…” 

 “You can’t trust him.” He isn’t even asking. She nods. “Because of your past?” 

 “Yeah,” she says, her voice small and weak as she thinks of all that they’ve been through. All that he put her through.

 “You know you can tell me anything, right?” She slumps back into her chair and lets out a groan, thrusting her fingers into her hair and tugging just slightly. David laughs softly but waits with gentle patience. 

 “It was… I was homeless. I was on the run after leaving a foster home.” She knows that the way she starts the story surprises her father, but he lets her continue without interrupting. “I broke into a car, and it turns out he had already stolen it; that’s how we met. And I was so young and naive, and I never really had anyone who cared for me like that before, so I fell for him. The Bonnie and Clyde act was so romanticized, but at the end of the day, we lived in a car and stole every meal. We couldn’t keep going on like that, so we made a plan to settle down.” 

 She can see the pain in her father’s face as she tells him what her life was like growing up without him. She knows it isn’t his fault, and he knows it too, but that knowledge doesn’t make the truth hurt any less. 

 “Anyway, he had stolen some watches a few months prior and was wanted. He couldn’t collect the watches from where he stashed them without getting caught, and we needed the money so that we could settle down. I decided to get the watches. And he was gonna go and fence them and meet me after with the money, but he gave me one first. So when he called the cops and they found it on me, it was easy to pin the crime on me.”

 “Emma,” he breathes, dropping his head to his hand briefly before looking back up at her with glassy eyes. 

 “It’s just…” she says through her own tears, ones she didn’t realize were falling. “I loved him. I really thought I did. And when I found out I was pregnant, a part of me wished he would come back and we could be a family. But he never did, and the more time that went by, the more I realized I could never—” she chokes on a soft sob at the memory. “I could never have raised Henry by myself. I had nothing. No one to help me. No money, nowhere to live… I was stuck with a criminal record and a teenage pregnancy and it was all because of him.” 

 It was because of him. What’s to say he won't do it again? 

 All she can think about is the one person she knows would never do that to her. 

 “I had no idea,” David says sadly. 

 “How could you?”

 He shakes his head and sighs. “It all makes perfect sense. I wasn’t sure why you were so adamant about not being with him but…” 

 “I don’t think I ever forgave him. I don’t know if I ever could. He— he took away my chance to raise my son.” 

 She didn’t expect to be so emotional about this; she’s had plenty of time to process what’s happened. Maybe it’s the fact that this is one of the most heartfelt conversations she’s ever had with her father. Maybe it’s the fact that her old wounds have been ripped open again by Neal’s return. 

 She considers the pain and fear that comes with being with him. She thinks about the comfort and security she feels with Hook. She wants to bury her head in sand.

 “I’m sorry that your mother and I have been pushing you to be with him. It isn’t fair to you.” 

 “You didn’t know.” 

 “We should’ve known you had a good reason.” She shrugs, sighing and resting her head on the desk for just a moment. “You know, this seems like a pretty easy decision to me: don’t be with Neal.” 

 She laughs at that, lifting her head and resting back against the chair. “Yeah, that’s the easy part.” 

 “Ah, I knew it. So this isn’t just about him?” 

 Rolling her eyes, she says, “you’re pretty perceptive, aren’t you?” 

 He hums out a laugh and says, “Well, if you want my advice, which I realize you didn’t ask for but I’m going to give anyway, I’d say you deserve to be with someone who would do anything for you. Someone who would go out of their way to make sure you’re safe, that your family is safe. Someone… honorable.”

 “Honorable…?” She cocks her head to the side and somehow knows exactly where he’s going with this.

 “Yeah. Someone who has had a few opportunities to show that he’s honorable. Someone who has proven himself, despite his past.”

 She snorts, rolling her eyes and saying, “you’re too much.” 

 “I’m not nearly as dramatic as someone else I know, whom I believe I saw heading to his ship not thirty minutes ago.” 

 She looks up at him again, this time cautiously, emotionally, and says, “you did?” 

 With a smirk, he nods. “I saw how happy you were for the past few weeks, Emma, and I can see how unhappy you are now. I don’t know what went on between you and Neal, or you and Hook, but whatever it is, it’s time to fix it. You deserve to be happy.” 

 She does, doesn’t she? Hasn’t she had enough heartache in her life? Isn’t it time for her to admit to herself what would make her happy?

 His strong arms holding her, keeping her safe. His soft touches as he comforts her whenever she’s upset. His gentle words of encouragement and belief in her. 

 He makes her happy. And she messed it up. She hurt him. 

 She’s got to fix this.

 She huffs and rolls her eyes again, standing and taking her keys off of the desk. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll be right back.” 

 “Take your time,” he calls after her. She rolls her eyes again. 

 ~~~~

 She’s on his ship again. 

 She’s holding flowers. 

 Roses.

 Emma feels the tears trailing down her cheeks, cool against her flaming skin, and drops her head down onto her arms dramatically. She’s too late, she thinks. She hurt him too badly. There’s no way she can put herself out there now. Tink is probably a better match for him anyway. They have a long history, and if she considers the shared glances on the island, probably a sensual one. She probably knows him better than almost everyone. Better than Emma, at least. 

 God, she messed up. 

 She messes up more, though, when her arm slips off the steering wheel and her head collides with the horn, alerting everyone at the docks of her presence. 

 Everyone. 

 She scrambles, cursing as she searches for the keys in her bag that lays on the passenger's seat. “Fuck,” she mumbles once she finally finds them, but her hands are shaking so much that she can’t find the correct key and get it into the ignition. Once she finally does, she roars the engine to life and whips it into drive, glancing up and out the windshield, when she sees him. She screams, jumps, and starts rolling towards him. 

 She hears his soft bloody hell from inside the car as he holds up his arms as if surrendering to her manic driving. She puts the car back into park and drops her head to the wheel once more. 

 He rounds the car, squatting before her window and smiling softly before he points down, asking her to open it for him. She obliges, reaching for the crank and turning it painstakingly as it squeaks in resistance. “Alright, love?” he asks, and she thinks it might kill her to be here.

 “Sorry that I interrupted whatever you and Tink—”

 “You didn’t interrupt. Tink was just leaving. She’s got a big date tonight.” 

 Leave it to him to rub it in. Bastard. “I’m sure you’ll have a marvelous time.” 

 He scoffs, standing up as if to leave, and she rolls her eyes. But he walks around the car until he reaches the passengers side and jiggles the handle until she unlocks it. He moves her bag and places it on his own lap once he sits. “Swan,” he says, staring at her despite the fact that she refuses to look anywhere but straight ahead. “Emma, look at me.” 

 She turns, looking at him through her lashes and wishing she didn’t have to hold back. She wishes she could reach over the center console and kiss him. But despite her acceptance of her own feelings, she knows she needs to do the right thing. 

 “What’s wrong?” 

 She isn’t sure what to make of this question. Of all the things he could say, he chooses this. She thinks of the fact that Neal hasn’t noticed anything being off about her. 

 “Nothing,” she lies, faking a smile and looking back at the horizon. 

 “Emma,” he repeats. His voice is commanding, but not threatening. “You forget that you’re an open book, love. You’re here for a reason; tell me what it is.”

 “I’m sorry,” she blurts out without meaning to. 

 He draws in his brows, then raises one dramatically as he stares her down. “You are?” 

 She rolls her eyes. “Yes.”

 “For what?”

 “You’re gonna make me say it?” she scoffs. 

 With a smirk, he responds, “aye.” 

 With a sigh, she drops her head once again onto the wheel, then lets out a loud groan. “I’m sorry,” she starts, “for everything. You were right, I was using you, and I shouldn’t have treated you like that.” 

 She lifts her head just slightly to look at him for a moment, and sees a soft smile gracing his face. “Thank you.” 

 She leans back in the seat, her gaze finding the ceiling far too interesting. “And,” she says, struggling a bit to get the words out. “I’m sorry that my inability to deal with my own feelings hurt you.” 

 He takes her hand in his but she can’t look at him. He squeezes softly and says, “Swan.” 

 With a sigh, she gives in, unable to look away from those forget-me-nots for long. “Yeah?”

 “Thank you.” 

 As she stares into his eyes, she realizes why she was trying so hard not to. They’re so enchanting that she’s sure she could say something foolish if she continued to stare into them. Instead, she whispers, “you’re welcome.” 

 “Would you care to come aboard so we can talk a bit more comfortably?” he asks softly, taking her hand in his hesitantly. 

 “I shouldn’t.”

 “Why’s that?” His face is falling, and she wants to catch him and make him smile again.

 “I don’t want to get between you and Tink. I shouldn’t have even said anything— if you’ve moved on with her—”

 “Bloody hell, Swan,” he says through a laugh. “Tink was here for advice. She doesn’t know much of anything about this town and she was interested in Ruby. She wanted to see if I knew anything about her from my short time here before Neverland.”

 She squints as she thinks, then blurts out, “Ruby?!”

 With a chuckle, he responds, “aye. Ruby and Tink have a date tonight,” and suddenly things start to make sense. 

 “So when she was here last week…” 

 “Why Swan,” he says with a smirk, “are you implying that you were here last week?”

 She blushes fiercely and chooses honestly as she nods. “Yeah, but I left. And I’m glad I did.” 

 “Why’s that?”

 “When I came then, I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew I wouldn’t have said the things I needed to say. I’m glad I waited until now so that I could tell you that…”

 “That…?”

 “That I… I like you.” 

 His smile is brighter than the sun reflecting off of the dancing ocean waves. “I quite like you, too.” 

 “Yeah?” 

 “Oh yes.” She laughs softly, meeting his eyes once more and falling for him a bit harder. “Now, would you come aboard? I’m sure you could use something to eat.”

 She shouldn’t be surprised that he seems to have noticed her nearly full plate at breakfast this morning. With a small smile, she says, “okay.”

 When they get to the galley, kept as tidy as the rest of the ship, he offers her an orange, citing their curative properties. When she accepts, he uses his hook to start peeling it, but once she takes over, he looks at her suspiciously. “What?” she asks. 

 “I’ve just never seen you willingly eat something so healthy,” he shrugs. “I’m surprised you aren’t demanding Poptarts.” 

 With a scoff, she says, “it’s not like you have any.” 

 “Well, I’m not sure what the bloody hell a s’mores is,” he says, walking towards a cabinet and taking out a large blue box. Family size. Her mouth is watering. “But I suppose they do look rather appealing in the picture here.” 

 “You didn’t,” she says with a grin, unceremoniously dropping the inferior orange onto the table and hurrying towards him. 

 He shrugs, easily opening the box with his hook. “Well,” he says, trailing off and giving her a knowing smirk as he hands her one of the silver packets. 

 Instead of taking it, she leans towards him and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. He lets her kiss him for a few moments, backing them up so that he leans against the cabinet, before breaking them apart and murmuring, “eat,” against her lips. 

 “I’m hungry for something else,” she whispers, but her stomach growls angrily and he hoists her into his arms and carries her backwards until he can rest her on the small table in the center of the galley. 

 “I’ll not be able to have my wicked way with you if you swoon from hunger, love,” he says flirtatiously, touching their foreheads together, cupping her cheek in his palm and running his thumb along her bottom lip tantalizingly. “Eat,” he repeats, his breath fanning over her face and making her eyes flutter. 

 “You’re no fun,” she pouts when he breaks away from her, not even giving her a final kiss. 

 “I’ll be much more fun later,” he promises as he sits in the chair just below her and takes the half-peeled orange, starting on it again for himself. Once it’s opened up, he begins segmenting it meticulously, peeling away the pith and dropping it onto the discarded peels that he left on the table. Watching him place each segment into his mouth halfway and bite down, licking his lips as the juice escaped them, is driving her mad with want. 

 She eats her Poptart slowly, barely able to appreciate the sweet taste she loves so much because of the distraction he serves. But then she realizes that not only is he perhaps the sexiest man she’s ever met, he’s also the most thoughtful. Seriously, a family sized box of her favorite, most versatile meal doesn’t seem like a big gesture, but she knows the meaning behind it. He bought that for her because he cares about her comfort and her happiness. He knows they’re terrible for her, and will likely berate her when she finishes the box in a week, but he got them anyway because he cares. 

 Dammit. 

 She puts the empty foil packet down on the table by the discarded peel and scoots to the edge of the surface before him, dropping herself onto his lap and straddling his hips with her knees. She isn’t even sure this chair can support the weight of the both of them, but she supposed they’ll find out soon enough when it either breaks or he complains of a safety issue. 

 He doesn’t though, he merely pops the last segment into his mouth salaciously and places a hand on her hip, smirking as he chews in a way that shouldn’t be as appealing as it is. “Finished?” she asks him in a breathy tone when he licks his lips again. 

 “With the orange,” he confirms with a nod. “With you, not even close.” 

 She giggles, actually giggles, before her fingers find his hair and she’s kissing him, enjoying the taste of citrus against her tongue. His hand begins to roam her back, tucking up under her jacket and stroking along her soft, thin shirt while his hook finds purchase in the belt loop of her jeans. It's so easy to be here, to melt into him under his touch, to let herself relax into the feeling of being his. 

 He breaks away from her slightly, gently, and runs his fingers through her hair to move it away from her face. “What is it?” he asks, as if he can’t quite read her racing thoughts. 

 With a smile, she shrugs and leans into his palm against her cheek. “Nothing,” she starts. “Just… this feels right.” 

 He smiles too, leaning closer to kiss her chastely. “Aye, it does. I’m glad to hear you think so.” 

 “I want,” she begins, cut off by her own insecurity until his thumb traces the line of her jaw soothingly. “I want you. I want— I want to be with you.” 

 “You’re with me, love,” he breathes against her, kissing her softly once more. 

 She falters at his misunderstanding, but forces herself forward so that he grasps her true meaning. “I meant I want… us. I want to try— with you.”

 He’s still for a moment, and she feels her heart nearly beating out of her chest. She wonders if he can hear it. Though she thought they were on the same page, she isn't sure if this is him gearing up to reject her again. Maybe he isn't ready. 

 But when the smile grows on his face and he kisses her again, sweet and passionate and everything she’s been missing over the last week, her heart races for a different reason. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he says against her lips, kissing her again. 

 “Yeah?” 

 “Yeah.” 

 She wastes no time bringing his lips back to hers, running her fingers through his thick, ink-black hair and tugging him as close to her as she can. His hand continues to run up and down along her side before finally tucking under her shirt, erupting a trail of goosebumps in its wake and making her shiver against him. He chuckles as she wiggles just slightly and asks, “cold, love?” 

 “No,” she responds. “Definitely not.” 

 “Are you hot, then?” he asks with a smirk before biting her bottom lip lightly and drawing a giggle from her. 

 “I guess you could say that.”

“Well, I'm hot for you.” 

 She snorts and pulls away from him, resting her head on his shoulder and biting the soft flesh where his neck needs his shoulder. He hisses, and the sound goes straight through to her core. 

 “Take me to bed,” she whispers in his ear before biting the lobe. 

 He hums lewdly and squeezes her before backing the chair up from the table and hoisting her up into the air, her ankles crossing around him. He struggles carrying her through the ship, having to go from the galley to the main deck and then back down into his quarters, but he doesn't complain once. 

 When they get down the ladder, Emma terrified that he’ll drop her but keeping her fears to herself as she clings tightly to his shoulders and hips, he plops her on the bed and smirks down at her devilishly. “My my,” he says. “How I’ve missed you.” 

 With a soft smile, she asks, “have you?” 

 “Of course I have,” he answers, crawling up the length of her and settling himself upon her. “I hope you know I took no pleasure in turning you down the last time, love.” 

 “I know,” she says with a sad smile, the memory flooding back to her. She touches his cheek gently with her hand, reveling in the fact that she’s here now, despite what’s happened between them. “It’s good that you did. I had to figure myself out.” He hums but doesn't agree verbally, perhaps worried about offending her. “I’m sorry, Killian,” she whispers. His eyes sparkle a bit and she thinks it must be because she uses his name. He likes when she does that.

 “I know, darling. You needn't say it again.” 

 “You were right, I was using you and it was unfair.” 

 “I’m only happy you see that now, and that we’re able to move past it.” 

 “Yeah.” 

 He kisses her fervidly and she returns it, hoping to convey exactly how she's feeling through the connection between them. His tongue snakes out along her lip until she grants him access and he takes it happily. His hand trails back down her waist, squeezing her hip as if he can’t get her close enough to him. “I want you,” he mumbles against her mouth without actually breaking from her. “You've no idea how badly I wanted to eat my pride and let you into my bed when you came here, Swan. Thinking I wouldn’t ever have you again was torture.” 

 “I don’t know what I was thinking. I never want to stop this.” 

 “Good.” 

 His lips trail down her jaw, along her throat, towards her chest, until he moves her shirt aside and licks against her sensitive skin along the line of her bra and she moans. He raises himself off of her a bit and tugs her jacket off her shoulders, tossing it to the ground, then follows suit with her shirt. “Has it truly only been a week since I’ve seen these breasts?” he wonders aloud dramatically, drawing a laugh from her. 

 “You're ridiculous,” she chortles, tugging on his hair as he removes her bra. He finally mastered the modern corset a few weeks ago and he gets it off quickly, even with one hand. Once she’s free from her confines, he tosses the garment to the floor with grandeur and pounces on her, drawing a hearty laugh from her. 

 Her laughter is short lived, as the second his tongue strokes along her hardened nipple, her breathing chokes. He nips and sucks and licks just right until she’s being driven mad, his hand paying attention to the neglected breast. His hook trails her waist, the cool steel a shock to her heated flesh, until he reaches the button of her jeans and releases her nipple with a pop. He travels further down her body until he reaches the button, his face lining up to it and his fingers working deftly as if he needs to be close to complete his task. When he tugs the pants down her legs, his hand squeezes her ass lightly on its way down and she giggles again. She’s never laughed this much during foreplay, ever. 

 He presses hot kisses against the front of her, still covered in her cotton underwear, before he loops his hook in then and starts tugging them down as well. Feeling the contrast between his warm fingers and his cool hook against her flaming skin drives her wild with her need for him. 

 He sits up so that he can toss her pants and boots to the floor, and she only thinks about how unfair it is that he’s still fully dressed for a moment before he’s trailing hot, wet kisses from her knee up the inside of her thigh. “So flawless,” he murmurs against her leg, biting her flesh and likely leaving a mark. “So perfect, and all mine.” 

 She moans again once he finds his way to her center, licking a strip through her dampened folds. She hums happily and her fingers find his hair, never tiring of the vision of his head between her legs. A thought pops into her head, and she realizes this is the first time they've been this intimate in his bed. It’s the first time they haven’t had to rush through it. 

 “Killian,” she breathes out as his fingers dive into her and curl just right. 

 He hums against her in response and she keens, arching her back in hopes of getting closer to him. “Aye, love?” he asks with his tongue planted against her clit. 

 “Fuck,” she mumbles. “More.” 

 She thought she was going to ask him to stop so that he could fuck her, but at this point, she’s so close that she can’t seem to form the words. He continues his unyielding attention to her until she snaps, silently screaming and pulling on his hair too hard. 

 It’s only once she’s come down, as he continues to stroke his fingers against her tightened muscles, that she notices him rutting his hips against the mattress, still fully clothed. She places her hands on his forehead, then his cheeks once he emerges from between her thighs. “Come here,” she whispers. He smiles, doesn’t smirk, and crawls up the length of her to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You’re still dressed,” she remarks. 

 “I’m sure we can remedy that.” 

 “How? There are so many buttons, and they’re so small.” He laughs as she goes on. “How do you even get them done? I’m not surprised you leave so many open.” 

 “I suppose I’ll need your help then, darling.” 

 Pushing his shoulders, she flips him onto his back and straddles his lap, bending down to plant her lips against the skin of his chest with each button that she opens. She pushes it open and finds a scar from a blade on his side, below his ribs, and presses a kiss there. She finds another from a bullet on his shoulder and decorates it with another kiss. She takes his arm in hers and kisses the tattoo above his wrist. 

 She undoes the laces on his trousers and pulls them off, her face lining up with his cock so that she can lick a strip up his shaft. He groans as she does, and his hips jump towards her when she takes him in her mouth. She can hardly fit all of him in her mouth without her eyes watering. 

 She revels in the sounds he makes in response to each of her movements, groaning and moaning as she swallows around him. She hollows her cheeks around his tip before taking him again, but he places his hand on her cheek to stop her. “Love,” he rasps. “I want you.” 

 She releases him with a soft pop and looks at him through her lashes as he takes a deep breath, guiding her up to him and kissing her softly. “You’re incredible,” he whispers against her lips. 

 With a giggle, she sits up, taking him in her hand once more and stroking him a few times before running the tip along her folds. He squeezes her hip as she tucks him inside her and they groan in unison. She looks down at him as he fills her to the hilt, and she realizes it’s the first time that she’s made eye contact with him during sex. It won't be the last. 

 He thrusts up into her forcefully as she grinds on top of him, the two of them setting an unforgiving pace for themselves. For each other. He bends his knees behind her, supporting her rear against his thighs and giving her more leverage. She plants her palms on his chest, her hair a curtain around the both of them before he leans up to capture her lips in his. She drops down, her elbows beside his head and his arms around her waist to pull her closer as they continue their movements against each other. 

 After a moment, he shifts them so that they’re flipping over, Emma landing on her back with Killian on top of her. He plunges back in, kissing her passionately as he thrusts relentlessly, perfectly. She claws at his back and desperately whispers, “don’t stop,” into his ear. He groans and buries his nose into her neck and kisses her skin, the tender gesture a contrast from his fierce thrusts. 

 They reach a precipice together, clinging to each other and shouting out into each other’s skin. She lets her muscles tighten around him until she falls off the edge of the cliff he’s been working her towards, then she feels him spilling himself into her almost immediately after and it makes her cling to him harder. 

 He kisses along her neck and jaw and face endlessly as they come down from their highs, and she can only smile once she catches her breath. When she does, she kisses him back. 

 “That was marvelous,” he whispers, and she chuckles. 

 “Yeah,” she breathes back. “Thank you.” 

 “You needn’t thank me for that, love. I’m sure it’ll happen again.” 

 With a laugh, she says, “no, I mean thank you for listening. And for giving me a chance.” 

 He rests his forehead against hers and nuzzles his nose against her own and says, “always.” 

 ~~~~

 They should’ve been more careful. It was the middle of the morning when she arrived, and she was technically supposed to be working, so they should have taken care not to fall asleep. But when she wakes and the sun isn’t streaming brightly through the eastern-facing windows, she knows she’s screwed. 

 “Killian,” she hisses, jabbing his ribs with her elbow as he holds her back to his front. “Wake up, I have to go.” 

 “No you don’t,” he mumbles into her hair, holding her tighter. 

 “I’m supposed to be at the station.”

 “Shhh.” 

 She rolls her eyes, unaware that Navy men could nap, and wriggles her way out of his tight hold in favor of grabbing her phone. She should have cleaned herself up before they fell asleep, but she didn’t exactly plan on that happening. 

 When she pulls her phone out of her pocket, she has 3 texts from David. 

 Hope everything’s going well… All good?

 Actually, I don’t want to know. 

 Been a while, let me know if you’re coming back today. 

 Dammit. 

 She scurries around the room to get her clothes on, refusing to speak with her father without them, and then calls him to put his mind at ease. He answers on the first ring. “She’s alive!”

 “I’m sorry. I lost track of time and—”

 “Seriously, I don’t wanna know. Shifts almost over anyway,” she pulls the phone away and sees that he’s right. She’s a terrible sheriff. “I was able to handle everything. Take the rest of the day and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 “You’re sure?”

 “Yeah. You two worked it out, I’m assuming?”

 With a grin and a blush as she looks down at Killian who begins to stir, she says, “yeah, we did. Thanks, Dad.”

 “See you later,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. 

 When she hangs up, she sees him smiling at her and she can’t help but to go back towards the bed. “Morning,” he murmurs. 

 “Hardly. It’s almost 3.”

 “You must be famished then.” He pulls her hand so that she’s laying across his chest atop the blanket. 

 “I could eat, but I don’t know if I’m in the mood for another Poptart.”

 “I wouldn’t dream of giving you more than one a day.” She doesn’t have the heart to tell him it comes with two in each package. 

 “Granny’s?”

 “Sounds perfect.” 

 ~~~~

 They sit across from one another in the booth, Emma’s back to the door, before she thinks better of it and moves to sit beside him. It’s a tight squeeze, but she doesn’t mind being close to him. He gives her a look, a quirky smile as if he’s entertained, and tucks his hook under the table. She wonders if he does this to hide it from her, but she can’t imagine why he would think he’d need to. So, rather than ignore the thoughts like she may have a week ago, or even yesterday, she reaches under the table and takes his hook in her hand to hold it tenderly. 

 He breathes out in a way that could be a laugh, or perhaps it’s in disbelief, and he bumps her shoulder with his. 

 “The usual?” Granny asks with disinterest, seemingly unfazed by their close proximity and child-like grins. 

 “Yes, please,” Emma responds, stomach singing praises at the prospect of a grilled cheese and onion rings. 

 Killian orders a clam chowder, apparently something he can’t get enough of, much like you, love. 

 She giggles again, something that makes her so unlike the person she thought she was, and presses her nose to his neck, leaving a kiss there. She’s about to tell him something, she isn’t sure what— perhaps that she thinks he’s funny, or that he’s ridiculous— when the door opens with particular force. 

 “Emma,” she hears, the tone accusatory, and she straightens, stiffening but not pulling too far away. 

 Henry’s with him. 

 Neal picked him up from school. 

 “Hey mom!” he calls as he rushes towards the table and sits across from them. 

 “Hey kid,” she says back with a smile. Though she’s rigid, she feels her muscles relaxing in the presence of her son. “How was school?” 

 She notes Neal from the corner of her eye, sitting awkwardly at the counter but still facing them suspiciously. 

 “Good, I learned my eights times tables.” 

 “Wow,” she says with a smile. Though she hated math, she finds that Henry enjoys it, and she couldn’t be prouder. “That sounds fun.” 

 “What’s this time table? Some sort of clock?” Hook asks. 

 “Modern math,” Emma explains with a soft laugh, and he nods in understanding. 

 “So, what are you guys doing here?” he asks, gesturing towards her close proximity to Killian. 

 “Ah,” Hook says awkwardly, scratching behind his right ear. “Grabbing some lunch.” 

 “Isn’t it kinda late for lunch?”

 She clears her throat and straightens a bit, taking hold of his hook once more under the table and trying to speak loud enough so that Neal can hear. She’s sure he will, as she’s sure he’s listening closely. “Actually, Henry, we’re on a date.” Killian looks at her immediately, surprise and excitement written across his face, and when she meets his gaze, she smiles softly at him. “Right?” 

 He looks at her so longingly, so… lovingly, that she can’t help leaning towards him. She almost kisses him before she hears Neal stand from his stool and walk over. “Henry, I gotta go.” 

 “I thought we were having milkshakes?” 

 “Seems like you can have one with your mom and… Hook,” he spits in disgust.

 “Neal,” Emma tries, but he holds up a hand to silence her. 

 “It’s fine, Ems. I see you’ve made up your mind and that’s just fine.” 

 She glances towards Henry and Killian and then stands, placing a hand on Neal’s shoulder to not-so-gently persuade him to speak with her in private. 

 “Neal, come on,” she says once they’re alone.

 “What?” 

 “So I didn’t choose to be with you! I’m sorry about that. It doesn’t have to impact us.” 

 “There is no us, Emma. You made that perfectly clear when you stood me up and got together with him.” 

 She rolls her eyes and huffs an angry breath. “We have a child together. We will always have a relationship. And you were engaged a few weeks ago! To someone who kidnapped my son!” she hisses in quiet anger. 

 “I didn’t know Tamara was like that!”

 “The point is, you have no claim over me. You have no right to judge me for moving on and being happy with someone who isn’t you. I can’t go through this with you. You were just engaged to someone else. How could I even believe you?”

 “That thing with Tamara wasn’t even real, Emma, you know that.” 

 “But you didn’t know that; it was real for you. And seeing how fast you moved on from her just reminded me how fast you moved on from me. After you left me in jail.” 

 “We’re not seriously talking about that again, are we?” 

 “We’ve never talked about it!” She’s trying so hard not to raise her voice, mindful of the fact that Hook is somehow entertaining Henry across the diner. 

 “I moved on from her because I knew I wanted to be with you!” 

 “It’s not enough for me. I deserve to be with someone who makes me feel safe. Who shows me every day that they want to be with me too. That I mean something to them.” 

 His tone is so patronizing that she feels herself shrinking. “When did I ever show you that you didn’t mean something to me?” 

 “When you called the cops!” She does shout now, the diner quieting and the patrons turning to look at them discreetly, and she blushes 

 “You’re really letting the chance of us go because of a pirate and a mistake I made 12 years ago.” It wasn’t a question. He seems in such disbelief and she honestly isn’t sure what to say to make him see her point. The fact that it isn’t just what happened 12 years ago. 

 “That wasn’t a mistake, Neal. A mistake is something you can fix. What you did ruined my life. You took away my chance to raise my child.” It’s all she can do to keep from crying at the memory of the decision she had to make. 

 “I didn’t know,” he says softly, weakly, as he looks down at his feet. 

 “I don’t care.” 

 “Well, what about Hook?” He asks, raising his voice now. “He left with the bean, didn’t he?”

 “And then he immediately came back and helped us rescue Henry! He made amends! There’s nothing you can do that will make me forgive you for what you did to me. To him.”

 “You said you loved me.”

 “Because you gave me my son. You said you wouldn’t stop fighting for us; just… fight for him. He loves you, so I want to be civil and coparent with you. But that’s all you and I will ever be. Please respect that I’ve made my decision and it runs so much deeper than choosing between you and Killian.”

 He’s silent for a moment, essentially pouting as he tucks his hands into his sweatshirt pockets and kicks at the ground, before he says, “fine. I gotta go.”

 “Okay. When are you seeing Henry for dinner this week?”

 “I don’t know.”

 “Neal, don’t take this out on him. Just tell me when you plan on seeing him for dinner.”

 “I don’t know,” he says more forcefully. “I’ll text you or something.” 

 “Fine.” 

 “Fine.” 

 She watches as he walks by the booth, glaring at Hook and tapping Henry on the shoulder, then walks out the door without a word. 

 ~~~~

 Later, when they’re on his ship out on the bay, laying together on the main deck as the stars shine in the blackened sky, he runs his fingers through the ends of her hair and she traces hers through the curls on his chest. “I only know the Big Dipper,” she says softly, and he hums happily. 

 “I’ll teach you, love.” 

 She curls up closer to him, tucking her head into the space between his neck and shoulder. “That sounds nice.” 

 “And perhaps we can have dinner beforehand. Somewhere other than Granny’s?” 

 With a soft chuckle, she asks, “why Captain, are you asking me out?” 

 “I believe that’s customary in this realm, yes?” 

 “Yes, I guess it is.”

 He kisses against her temple, pulling her closer to him until she’s giggling and hopping up onto his hips and straddling her thighs around his, running both hands along his cheeks and planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “Well then,” he says once she releases him, “I quite look forward to it. Henry informed me that you may enjoy an Italian meal.” 

 “Henry did?” 

 “Aye, lad was quite excited, I’d say. Said something about taking you out on a real date. And about being glad to see his mother so happy.” 

 She laughs in disbelief and shakes her head before kissing him, this one with more fervor than the last. She sneaks her tongue along his bottom lip softly as his hand trails up her waist, and she can’t help the contented sigh that releases from her nose. “I am happy,” she says when they press their foreheads together. 

 “Aye, I look forward to making you happy for many years to come.” 

 And he does make her happy, scaling her walls and crashing them down until all that remains between them is respect and trust and endless love. 

 ~~~~

~~~~

#csnlny #forget what I said #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #cs smut #captain swan smut #once upon a time fanfic #ouat ff #ouat smut

[astriefer]

You know I can't cook myself without burning down the house

Warning: bit of angst. Some fluff.

~~~~~~~~~

Cordelia stepped back into the parlor of her townhouse, holding a tray in her hands.

"Here," she began, resting it on the dark-wooded table. She lifted the teapot to pour the drink as she looked up calmly at her brother. "So, whatever is it going on?"

Alastair knotted his brows together, seemingly bewildered. "You tell me," he said. "Weren't you the one who suggested I'd come by?"

She added a slice of lemon to Alastair's tea and a bit of milk to hers. The set was made of porcelain, with delicate traces of flowers. It was a gift she got from her mother, Sona, for the wedding - the one which passed on to her from her own mother. She stirred the liquid with a teaspoon, watching as it mixed and turned back to a solid color. 

She kept her cool. "Didn't you wish to come?" 

He shrugged dismissingly. "Isn't it the new base for you and your little friends? I imagined they would be here."

"They went to their hideout at the Devil's Tavern," she explained. So that's what it is. He wanted to avoid an inept meeting with the Merry Thieves. Even if they did try to converse, say they wouldn't snub him as usual, she held no hope it would be competent and amiable. She planned his arrival meticulously. James and the rest of the Merry thieves had patrol from the afternoon to evening. It came out perfectly - they'd stay at the Devil until patrol, giving her as much time as essential to speak with her brother.

Alastair's expressive eyebrows climbed upwards. "And your husband left you alone when a serial killer is running loose?"

The word 'husband' made her cheeks heat up and her heart double in pain. Husband. But not a real one, not as you think, brother. "I told James I would have company today and had insisted of him to go and be with our friends. So as you see, he didn't leave me alone." She took a sip from her tea.

She told James she wished to invite her family for the day. She had never said she would invite all of them. And she never knew whether Alastair would bring himself or not. She has convinced him no accusations of bad manners will be held against him if he goes off with his friends. 

"Well-"

"Alastair, please," she huffed, and Alastair scowled and took his teacup in hand, the saucer in another. "James was far more than kind to me. And no attack occurred in Shadowhunters' houses."

"You can never know," he argued.

"Alastair," she warned.

He rolled his eyes. "As you will. Herondale-"

"He has a name," Cordelia protested, starting to get irritated. "Besides, he is your brother by marriage. If nothing else, it worth a first name basis, is it not?"

Alastair scrunched his nose at the comment, clearly not softened by her effort. He opened his mouth before hesitating and shutting it. Her brother turned to stare at her silently for a few seconds before asking, "Is James Herondale taking good care of you?"

She held his gaze, but the question startled her. She looked over at him, examining him closely. Over the past month since their father's return, she noticed slight changes in his behavior. The tension in his shoulders, the cautious looks around. He seemed more aware and detached from everything around him at the same time. She was worried, but was never able to voice those fears. 

And James. James was pure and loyal, always acting like a faithful husband around others. "He does," she said, with as much meaning as she could put into those words. Alastair slowly nodded. 

She felt sick to think about it. The lies and half-truths in which she surrounded herself threatened to drown her. Those stolen moments when she was with James, free to love him but also forbidden from his own love at the same time. Was it worth it? Are the moments alone with him now would worth the constant pain she'd carry with herself once the marriage is called off?

This was not a question she got to puzzle over longly. Her brother's stern look was directed at her. 

"Yes," she said convincingly. "He is everything I could have imagined for myself." Because he is the only thing I longed for myself.

At the outset, Alastair seemed to tranquil. He nodded imperceptibly. Once. Twice. Then something behind his eyes changed, and Cordelia had felt dread washing over her. Often he seemed to know more than he has let to see. He anticipated the world in his way, revealing secrets and schemes. Was he unsatisfied with her answer? Maybe he speculated what she brought him for. She forced herself to return his gaze.

"Cordelia," he started. "I am glad. For the invitation, that is. But really all you wished to do is have a little tea party with me?"

It felt like an unsaid conviction. She took a breath. Of course, he wouldn't make it easy on her. she stirred her tea, not bringing her older brother a look. "Someone once told me tea parties are a great excuse for clandestine agenda." 

He raised a brow. She noted the way his posture became more rigid. "And I assume this time is not an oddity."

"No," she conceded. "Not in this case."

Keep reading

~~~~~~~~~

Am I delaying my angsty Thomastair fic? Sure. Am I scared because instead of working on an assignment I've done this? True. Have I stumbled with this fic for a month or so and in the last day and half finished it? Yes, you guessed right, I have.

Also, didn't check much of it after I finished writing. I am sorry for mistakes and the abundant of grammar errors, it's the best I can pull. I never saw a fic where they do something like this so I decided to dive and do it myself. I apologize, Persian readers, I tried my best to make it right but I don't know how correct I did it.

#alastair carstairs #the last hours #tlh #chain of gold #tsc #chain of iron #the shadowhunter chronicles #cordelia carstairs #chog #elias carstairs #anti elias carstairs #shadowhunters #the shadowhunters chronicles #my fanfic #james herondale #ready to sleep for an entire lifetime #alastair carstiars fanfic #alastair and cordelia #yes she can but just a couple of recipes

[tamagochiie]

a line without a hook | part three.

part three. “merely tolerable, really.”

chapter synopsis. Had you known freedom tasted like this, you wouldn’t have bothered to form an attachment with Mr. Ackerman. Was there really a point in what you were doing? 

word count. 7.5k

tags. swearing, angst, tones of misogyny

notes. This is a very late post, and I apologize for that, but I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. As for the upcoming chapter for this week, there may been another delay. I’ve been swamped with a lot of assignments and its my finals week, so I hope you all understand :/ 

back to master list

<< part two. | part four. >>

Your mother always told you gossip to women is like honey to a swarm of flies: you can catch more of them depending how sweet the scandal is. But she never thought to tell you what it'd be like if you were the honey, that the women would stick to you, drinking the life out of every little thing you do and unpack it together with their girl friends over afternoon tea and biscuits.

Your name, along with Mr. Ackerman's, had travelled from one tongue to the other in the last four days.

Each story are more intricately fabricated than the last. You heard all sorts of things, too many thing to keep track of — something about Mr. Ackerman's family background and more so yours, but you didn't want to pay heed over something that didn't come directly from the man himself.

And just the other day, while you commuted to town to deliver Reiner's forgotten lunch, you overhead a group of women whispering that you were already singing with the church bells.

You had shuddered at the thought and assumed it was something your mother must've cooked up given how she easily melted at Mr. Ackerman's feet when he came to visit a few days ago.

You and Mr. Ackerman were both aware that his visit, and all the kind and loving words he had said before you and your family, were merely for show. And that it was for purpose of sweeping your house clean of all trespassers and violators of your freedom.

But nonetheless, even with a letter that came to heed you of his visit, you were still left utterly speechless.

Mr. Ackerman had strolled into your cozy home, he hadn't been swathed in his usual drab choice of clothing, but settled with more pleasing fashion that didn't say,"I'm pessimistic and moody, and I've got a reputation for killing for sport".

He had been bathed in shades of blue, but still leaned on the darker side of the color spectrum. It had been a good change save for his signature cravat, and it led you to wonder just how many he owned.

You came to the conclusion he owned quite enough to be stitched together and make a thick and long blanket to last through the winter.

However, what had left you gobsmacked and rapidly blinking in succession was not Mr. Ackerman's slight change of style, but the little smirk across his lips while he spoke to your mother. His tone hadn't been clipped and did not drip in annoyance, but was a twinge softer — completely out of pocket for a man with a reputation for being dark and brooding.

Sasha, on the other hand, had been easily tickled in pure curiosity by Mr. Ackerman, poking and prodding him with peculiar and rather personal questions. You had expected he'd yell at her, seeing he'd be the kind of person to do that.

But he didn't snap. It was obvious his patience had been wearing thing, so he kept his replies quick and short just like his temper.

Pieck never spoke a word, but had instead observed the exchange as she sat on the couch, sandwiched between Connie and Jean while your mother had done her best to entertain Mr. Ackerman in small talk even though the man reeks of disdain for it.

Though Mr. Ackerman had successfully wooed your mother, and probably the rest of your sisters and Connie, Reiner was anything but.

Your brother protectively glued himself to your side, glaring down at Mr. Ackerman with a vexed look plastered across his scruffy face. Unfortunately, Reiner's attempt to be intimidating had fallen short and made you not only you, but Mr. Ackerman, suppress a stifling laugh.

Regardless of your brother's wishes, Mr. Ackerman's visit had been deemed fruitful. Your mother's eyes as well as her heart completely set on Mr. Ackerman and Mr. Ackerman alone.

To which both requests you firmly nodded and smiled at.

But your smile had been quick to fade.

You agreed to this little sham because you admired your freedom, but ever since Mr. Ackerman's visit, despite no men coming to bother you from the early hours of the morning till the late afternoon, you find yourself anything but free.

Your mother, the seventh circle of your personal hell, has taken it upon herself to berate you—tells you to make more of an effort on your appearance. She'll comment on how you sit, how you speak or how you eat, and every other thing you do.

You may have been liberated by the lusting grips of men, your mother's iron clad hold on even the thought of you being a few steps away from marriage is much tighter, and much more stubborn than you ever imagined.

So you spend your days hidden in your room, away from your mother and the rest of the world.

Sometimes you'll read or stare out the window, and when you do decide to step out of your little bubble, you'll be sure to check if the coast is clear from any possibly ambushes from your mother.

Though the only time you really do go out is to check the mail to see if Mr. Ackerman has written to you — he has not — or spend some time with your great love, your horse, Maria.

But for the most part, you plant yourself on the couch right up against window sill with your back slumped on the wall and legs sprawled out. You stare outside, not really looking at anything in particular.

Maybe the chickens.

You heavily sigh, fogging up the class as you gaze idly, twirling the ends of your hair. You grow jealous of the chickens and the roosters because at least they have their freedom. Their simple minds and their simple lives; the lay eggs and crow at dawn.

Damn chickens, you seethe in thought.

There's a faint knocking on your bedroom door that cease your internal tanget. You turn your head as the door creaks open, revealing your sister, Sasha, poking her head out between the gap. A friendly smile adorns her pink lips as she holds a plate of food in her hands.

"Can I come in?" She asks, already stepping inside. "I brought you food. You've been cooped up in here for too long, I thought you might be hungry."

You chuckle and motion her to come in.

Sasha moves briskly and steps inside before shutting the door behind her. She tiptoes across the room and over to you. She lightly taps your foot to make room and you swing it off the couch.

She places the tray between the two of you. A few loaves of bread, some grapes, and other fresh fruit that you assume she's stolen from the batch Reiner's supposed to sell.

She swipes the loaf of bread, breaking it in half and hands you the bigger piece before chewing her's down.

"You alright?" She asks, her words muffled by the bread. "Mamma's gotten under your skin, hasn't she?"

You bob your head, humming in response as you eat the bread bit by bit, taking your time.

Sasha follows your line of sight, checking to see what you've been so keenly staring at. Only to find that it's just a bunch of chickens running around.

"I'm overwhelmed," You confess breathily. You pull your legs up to your chest and rest your chin onto your knees. "I don't like the feeling one bit."

"Is it because of Mr. Ackerman?" Sasha looks at you with concern outlining the softness of her face. You don't really reply, just lulling your head in thought. "You surprise me, you know."

"I do?"

Sasha hums delightfully as she takes her last bite of her bread before moving onto the grapes.

"For someone who admires her freedom and never spared an interest in even the thought of forming an attachment, you latched onto Mr. Ackerman rather quickly." Sasha had always been mistaken for an idiot at a surface level, but she's a lot more perceptive than people give her credit for — than you give her credit for. And for once, you hated it. "One could even say that it's a bit...odd. But you've always been off, so maybe it isn't so out of the blue."

"Oh, how you read me so well," You say, sarcasm oozing from your words. You take a quick bite of bread.

"What's he like?"

You shrug your shoulders, pouting in thought. "I've only ever met him thrice," You point out, laughing at the curiosity avidly pooling from her eyes. "There's not much I can judge. If anything, I think you'd know more than me since you've pummeled the poor man with one too many questions."

Sasha takes the tray of food and scooches closer to you before putting it on her lap.

"But that's different! You've gotten first hand experience. Is he really like all the rumors?" She asks, a little too keenly. "Is he really as mean as they say? Because when he visited the house, he seemed too stiff for comfort."

You snort and are quick to cover your mouth to keep the bread from spilling from your lips.

"Mm, well, Mr. Ackerman is man of few words and very few expression, but he seems...genuine?" You don't mean for it to come out sounding like a question, but the more you speak, the more you're hit with the realization you know absolutely no idea who the man is.

All you're really left with is his hatred for attention, and your mutual need for peace. Everything else you try to think of comes up short.

Mr. Ackerman hasn't written a letter to you since his visit. It's not like he said he was going to, but a very small and naive part of you thought he would.

Sasha continues to rain down on you with more questions, but it isn't as persistent as you'd expect her to be. Its either her line of concentration snaps too quickly for you to formulate a response, or she's just too excited to hear more.

You answer what you can until you can no longer think. Eventually you're too tired to talk about you and the subject of the conversation shifts to Sasha.

"Hey, Sasha," You carefully speak between chews, minding the grape in your mouth. Sasha's eyes, still colored in hunger as she takes another loaf of bread, darts to look at you. "What about you, though?"

"Hmm?"

"You and..." You shift in your seat and lean in. "You and Nicolo - are you two really - Oh! My God, are you alright?"

Sasha nearly chokes on her bread. Clenching her fist, she beats her chest to help soothe the burn in her throat, coughing for air.

"Sasha!"

"I-I'm fine!" She finally says, swallowing thickly. "Sorry, yes, I'm fine."

"Do you need water?" Sasha shakes her head as she rests her hand on your shoulder to keep you still in case you choose to leave. You move even closer to rub her back to ease her, but once she does, a smirk plays across your lips and chuckle stumbles from your lips. "So, I guess it's true. You and Nicolo really are —"

"Shut up!" Sasha interjects, her head snapping up to look at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. "Please! I've had enough of mamma pestering me about this— ever since Pieck decided to tattle on me! If you're going to being just as annoying as her than—"

"I won't be!" You argue, your tone playful and lilting. "I'm only asking, and you're taking forever to say anything!"

"Well, fine! Alright." Sasha sharply huffs in defeat as she tosses her bread onto the tray and sets it back onto the couch. "Yes, okay, I suppose I might have feelings for Nicolo, but I don't know. I can't tell."

"You can't tell...?"

Sasha lets out another breath as she slumps against the wall. Her head tilts up to look at the cracked ceiling before looking back down to you, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she picks the right words to convey how she feels. She nervously twiddles her thumbs while doing so.

"How do you even know when you like someone?"

You blink at Sasha, taken aback by her question while she looks at you eagerly.

You realize, after a few breaths, you don't have a definite answer because unlike Pieck, you've never really experienced the feeling yourself. You always lived vicariously through fictional characters you read in novels, and Mrs. Bloom's sweet story of how she met her husband.

But other than that, you come up short—you can't tell at all.

"I think I'm the wrong one to ask." You confess, causing Sasha to look at you quizzically as confusion stirs in her mind. "I haven't really found the answer myself, I'm sorry."

Sasha sighs dejectedly.

"It's best to ask Pieck, isn't it?"

"As me what?" Pieck's voice, delicate and laced in curiosity, has your heads turn to the bedroom door.

It seems you were both too deep into your conversation to hear her knocking.

Pieck stands by the door, her olive green dress flows in the gentle window coming from the opened window, her hair into the usual messy, low ponytail that falls down her shoulders; her eyes heavy-laden with sleepiness.

Your eyes trail down to her hand, finding a pile of letters tightly held in it.

"Pieck, what's that?" You ask, dismissing her question with a question.

"Now hold on," Pieck hides the letters behind her back, pressing herself against the door to create even more distance—as if the wide expanse of the room wasn't enough. "What's the question?"

Sasha rolls her eyes. "It's silly."

"Well, if it's from you, I'm sure it is."

Sasha grumbles at Pieck's sarcastic retort, and you watch as your two sisters begin to bicker.

"If you're going to be an ass, I won't tell you." Sasha crosses her arms and twists her body away from Pieck and towards the window, her eyes falling to the clucking hens.

Peick nimbly trots across the floor and over to Sasha's side, crashing into her and quickly wrapping her arms around her shoulders, nosing through Sasha's hair bunched up in a high pony as she rests her chin onto her shoulder.

"Go away!" Sasha growls, her face contorts a sour expression as her attempts to shove Pieck off fails.

"Oh, c'moooon," Pieck coos, peppering kisses over her little sister's cheek, "won't you tell me? I hate being left out, especially when it's the two of you."

Sasha grunts as she tries to pry away from Pieck, but only to be caught in sloppy kisses on the cheek and the temple of her forehead. Though Sasha visibly shows disgust, even you can see that she loves being showered in affection from Pieck.

Pieck, being the eldest and holding the most responsibility, had always held you both with great love and adoration.

"Alright!" Sasha yells in surrender, tangled in the arms of her sister and somehow in a headlock as Pieck sits behind her. "I'll tell you, I'll tell you! Let me go and give me room, please."

Sasha elbows Pieck away from her, giving her enough space to breathe, and you snatch the tray off the couch and onto your lap to keep it from falling.

And as Sasha begins to explain her little dilemma, Pieck comfortably sits herself behind her, propping her chin back onto her shoulder and winding her arm around her waist as she listens intently. Pieck's gentleness doesn't go unnoticed by Sasha, and you watch as she sinks in the hug.

Pieck clicks her tongue, her eyes look at you as she falls into a thought, not deep enough to overthink and get carried away as she finds the answer.

"Hmmm, love and likeness can be complicated, but only if you let it be." You tilt your head at Pieck as she continues on her train of thought. "But you can tell if you like someone if you enjoy being with them and find their company pleasant. Do you find Nicolo's company pleasant?"

Sasha mindlessly hums in thought as her head lulls back on Pieck's shoulder.

"I do, actually." Sasha admits without hesitation. "I think..." She takes a beat to suck her teeth as she continues to think about it a little more, "I like the food he makes and that he, well, never seems to be bothered by me..."

"He's always so kind—like his eyes. His smile's nice, too, I suppose. Whenever he speaks, whether it's about food or well, other things, I can't help but listen."

There it is, the shimmer of affection in her light brown eyes and the oh-so-subtle smile across her lips. You almost miss it, but the world stills around you as you're caught in her bubble.

Pieck gives you a knowing look, smiling playfully.

Without saying a word or even slipping a sound, you and Pieck come to the agreement that Sasha'll have to come to her own realization that he loves him. The question is when she'll arrive at it.

Sasha brushes it off, not wanting to muddle herself any longer. She plucks the letters from Pieck's grasp and eagerly swifts through the pile while humming thoughtfully, completely ignoring Pieck's groan of disdain.

It's the usual; a couple of people from your father's family, inquiring when you're to sell the estate, one from your distant aunt from your mother's side that never bothers to actually visit, but diligently sends letters whether it be rain or shine, and one for —

"You've got a letter!" Sasha chirps, snapping her head up to look at you before shoving it into your hands. "It's from Mr. Ackerman! He's finally written to you!"

You throw your legs over the edge of the couch, sitting upright and fixing your hair as if Mr. Ackerman's just right there, watching you as you open his letter with shaky breaths and nimble fingers.

You quickly but carefully open his letter, scanning through his words and your eyes bulge out of it's sockets.

"What's it say?" Pieck inquires, excitement dripping from her lips as she scooches closer to try and peak at the letter. "Will he be visiting again?"

You shake your head.

"Well, don't be shy!" Sasha whines, "What is it?"

You open and close your mouth, blinking frantically as your shock still rides through your body. "Mr. Ackerman would like me to visit him at his estate next Tuesday."

When your mother heard news of your presence being requested by Mr. Ackerman, she took it upon herself to teach everything you needed to know about being "prim and proper". She stole your remaining days of peace and prepped you as best as she could.

When it came time for you to leave, she was adamant that you opt to take horseback instead of taking the carriage. All, especially your brother Reiner, were completely against it when they noticed the storm clouds reeling in. But your mother was deeply rooted in her stance, firm like a tree that not even the wind of your brother's disdain could change her mind.

So there you stand, having been caught in the rain, dripping from head to toe as the Smith estate towers over you, as if it's ready to swallow you whole in one go. You have to crane your neck back in a particularly painful angle to get a good look of the entire building, and you’re sure you’re only seeing the very tip of the iceberg.

Your mother warned you it would be much larger than you were used to - you just never imagined it to look like something out of a book.

Shivering and tightly wrapping your coat over you to trap any warmth you might have left with one hand, you swiftly knock on the door with the other. A shuddering breath escapes you when the door creaks open, revealing a servant to greet you in.

“Ah, Miss,” The servant’s eyes widen in fright, flinching back.  His gulp is audible even with the thundering behind you. He scans you from head to toe, and he doesn’t bother to mask his sneering at your drenched frame and all the mud collected at the hem of your skirt. “You must be Miss Blouse, yes?” You greeted him with a sneeze, and briefly apologized. “Come quickly before you catch a cold.”

But your second and most aggressive sneeze yet tells him you might already have one.

“He’s been expecting you,” Is all the servant says before guiding you down that hall.

You rub your eyes, wiping your hairs sticking to your face as you take in the sight before you. The air in the estate is chilly and deadly quiet - enough to hear the sound of your clothes dripping with water and to catch the servant clicking his tongue at you.

You hold your breath; you didn’t think the estate could get any bigger, but it does. The hallway is vast and seemingly endless; portraits of many different men and women - all who you assume were probably family members of Mr. Smith because of the signature blonde hair and blue eyes - canvas over the great walls.

Giddiness tickles down from your chest and into your stomach as you trail behind the servant, your arms swaying to the side with a little skip in your step. You try your best to catch a peak at every room and hall you pass by, but everything moves in blur.

You can’t tell if you’re tired from your travels or if it's the pace you’re walking in. You take deep breaths, trying to pull yourself together as the servant ushers you into the drawing room.

“Mr. Ackerman will be here shortly,” is all he leaves you with, not bothering to spare another breath.

You’re surrounded by more paintings and books, but a particular painting catches your eye. It’s a portrait of a woman relaxed on a chair; she looks nothing like the ones outside.  She has soft features and kind eyes, her lips supple and plump with an endearing smile. Her dark hair flows down to her shoulders, framing her face.

You squint your eyes, inching towards it with your hands clasped behind your back to avoid reaching out to touch it. The longer you stare, you find a weird sense of familiarity in her. But you just can’t -

“You’re wet.” You snap your head towards the gravelly voice to find Levi standing by the door with his brows pulled down in horror. “You’ve tracked in so much rain water, I thought a dog had stalked in.”

“Oh, I’m quite fine - achoo! Thank you for asking - achoo!” Your feeble attempt to shoot down his sarcastic remark is embarrassingly interrupted by your persistent sneezing. You wipe your nose with the back of your glove, earning a look of disgust from Mr. Ackerman. “Excuse me, I got caught in the rain.”

“I couldn’t tell,” He clips with a tight lip. “You could catch a cold -”

“Achoo!”

“It seems you already have…” Mr. Ackerman groans, and you find yourself picking at your fingers in embarrassment, your head lowered to the floor. “Follow me, I’ll give you something to change out of.”

Mr. Ackerman wastes a single breath, nor does he allow you to. But instead, with the utmost jaded expression on his face, he turns on his heels and leaves the room, expecting you to follow. You have to admit, with a fuzzy feeling buzzing in your head and the sudden sensitivity to the ache in your bones, it takes you a moment to pick up what he says and follow suit.

Has it always been this chilly?

A tremble in your damp coat, exhaling tremulously as you trot down the hall behind Mr. Ackerman. Your struggle for warmth doesn’t fall on dear ears, but it does motivate him to pick up the pace, up the winding steps and into another hallway.

Your shoes continue to click against the marble, passing by paintings and statues; for a moment you mistaken yourself to be wandering around a museum and not someone else’s home. But your head is spinning and you can’t appreciate the art even if you wanted you - you can’t even glance at a painting without wanting to vomit.

Mr. Ackerman comes to a jagged halt, causing you to nearly stumble against him. He glares at you over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” You mutter before stumbling a few steps back to give him space.

“Wait in there,” He instructs dryly, “and I’ll get someone to help you in a bit.”

“Oh, I - I don’t understand -”

“You have a cold,” He points out, “and I don’t think you’ll appreciate it if it were me helping you change out of your clothes.”

Your cheeks flush and your heart paces quickly in your chest; embarrassment overwhelms you and you wish the ground would swallow you up. He’s too direct and it makes your knees a little wobbly along with the rest of your body - you’ve turned into jello.

“Just wait in there and there’ll be a maid to bring you clothes. I’ll meet you again once you’re done.”

“Oh, uh, thank you.” You whisper, your eyes finally snap from the floor and meet Mr. Ackerman’s same old arid visage, but there’s a tenuous, unfamiliar gleam in his eyes you can’t seem to read.

He sternly nods, but just before trodding off you call after him, “Mr. Ackerman?” Your voice hushed and trembly.

“Yes, Miss Blouse?” He watches you expectantly, his head faintly tilting to the side. “Is there something else?”

Ironically, despite Mr. Ackerman coldness and indifference, you can feel that he cares - his warmth. And you can’t help but feel dangerously eager, a little selfish even, for wanting more. You can’t help but want to push further, but you’re reminded of the rumors and prefer not to push your luck.

“Thank you,” You say with a smile, a genuine one that catches him off guard, but not that you can tell with your glossy eyes.  “Thank you fo - achoo! I appreciate your kindness, Mr. Ackerman.”

There’s a very, very subtle blush that spreads across his cheeks that reaches the tips of his ears, and maybe if it wasn’t for the odd lightly in the hallway, you would’ve caught it. But once again, Mr. Ackerman thanks his lucky stars and gulps, “Don’t mind it too much,” and spins on his heels before striding down the hallway.

You watch till his footsteps fade and his slender frame disappears as he turns the corner before finally looking at the door beside you. You stare at the door knob, your hand fidgeting over it before finally taking it in your hand and opening the door.

You gasp in awe, your eyes going round - the room can eat your house in a single bite. Even the bed that sits at the center, headboard pushed up against the wall, is bigger than the one your share with Pieck. Maybe bigger than the bed your mother and father shared.

You step inside, pushing the door shut behind you before twirling and taking in all the green and gold in the room. You’ve never seen so much gold - you’ve never seen gold in general, but here you are completely surrounded by it.

The strident knocking on the door causes you to still, staggering over your feet to find a familiar face greeting you with a cheerful smile, balancing a folded pile of clothes in their hand.

“Hange!” You squeak in shock, nearly losing your balance.

“Miss Blouse,” They playfully salute to you before entering in completely. “I saw you come in earlier and Levi said you’d be in here, so I thought to help. Though he did oppose, I'm not one to follow orders anyway.”

They cleverly wink at you, stretching their arm out to hand you the clothes and you meekly take it.

“How are you feeling?” They ask, taking a seat on the bed, “You can change over there, behind the partition,” They point to the other side of the room where it stands beside the window, and you quickly shuffling behind it.

You finally peel off your clothes, finally being freed by way your damp clothes and the way it clung to your body. You sigh heavily, tremulously.

“So, how are you feeling?” Hange’s voice echoes in the room from where they sit. They lean back on the heel of their palms, lulling their head bad carelessly as they wait for your response. “Levi said you might have a cold, and luckily for you, I’m a doctor.”

You hum in response, your focus directed on changing your clothes as quickly as possible.

“I’m, uh, I think I’m okay,” There’s a tingling in your skin and an unbearable ache in your bones. Your whole body feels sensitive; you’re not sure if you feel chilly or too warm. But you don’t want to be a burden, especially since you’re already borrowing someone else's clothes.

Whose are these anyway? You can’t imagine these are Hange’s, it’s way too small.

“He said you were sneezing!” They say, their voice slightly raising. “That you were sneezing a lot.”

“Probably just allergies!” You try and laugh it off, hoping Hange doesn’t press any further. But much to your displeasure, Hange isn’t one to simply let things go.

But the moment you step out from the partition, tying your hair up to keep from staining the dress, Hange strides over to you, placing her wrist onto your forehead and hums.

“You’re sick.”

“I’m fine.” You press.

“You’re a liar.”

“I'm not!” The whine that escapes your dried lips, takes enough energy from you to have your vision grow spotty and have your knees give in. Hange loops their arm around your waist and you slump onto their chest for support. “Right, maybe I am a liar,” You admit breathily, your eyes fluttering shut. “I’m really sorry, this is extremely impolite and my mother would kill me if she found me like this.”

“Never mind what your mother says,” They sigh before helping you over to the bed, “nothing good will come of thinking about what your mother says,”

You laugh softly, finding irony in their words.

The cushions are warm and comforting, pulling you into ease as you’re swayed by your need for rest. You try to combat it by blinking away, but drowsiness overtakes you like an unrelenting storm and you fall perilous to it the second your head sinks into the pillows.

You're greeted by a sharp, persistent ache in your head and a stubborn throb in your bones. You moan in discomfort and writhe beneath the cotton bed sheets.

You feel something cold dripping down your head, but before you can reach to check, you feel a wet cloth being placed on your forehead. You crack your eyes open and draw a bitter breath to find Mr. Ackerman towering over you. His brows pulled into a deep line of focus and his eyes colored in determination as if its taking all his verve to adjust the way the towel sits on your head.

He looks down at you and his expression softens.

It softens?

"You're awake," Mr. Ackerman notes. Maybe its the sickness, and that you're probably imagining it, but does Mr. Ackerman's tone sound a lot gentler? Its almost as if he's concerned for your well-being — almost as if he's worried and relieved you're finally awake. But his face remains unreadable, devoid of emotion. "You've been asleep for quite some time, but your temperature seemed persistent. Hange said as long as the rag is frequently changed then you should be better. How are you feeling?"

Does that mean he's been changing the rag? He said it should 'changed frequently' —

You arch your back when the ache in your bones come back stronger than ever. You whine in pain and drown back into the mattress.

"I don't feel too well," You croak, swallowing dryly.

"Do you need water?"

You can only nod.

Mr. Ackerman swiftly reaches for the glass of water that sits on the bedside table. You try and sit up , your bones feel like chalk as it grates against each other. You try to take it from him, but he raises his free hand to stop you. “Let me,” is all he says to you before bringing it up to your lips.

Baffled, you still drink it.

Your thoughts are still too foggy to draft a single thought. But all you is know your heart’s drumming in your chest and your breath is hitched in your throat for an entirely different reason that’s far from your cold.

You sigh in relief after a few gulps, muttering a ‘thank you’.

“Mr. Ackerman, you said that I’ve been asleep for quite some time,” You recount, looking at him puzzled, “How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days.” He replies flatly, as if he's not bothered by it at all.

“Excuse me?”

Mr. Ackerman hums as he falls back into his chair grabbing the book beside him before opening it up to the page he left off.

“You needn’t worry,” He eases without looking up to meet your eyes, as unbothered by the worry screaming in your eyes. “I’ve already written a letter to your mother the moment you fell asleep and informed her of your current state.”

“And what did she say of it?”

“She deeply apologizes for overstaying your welcome, but is pleased to know you’re in good hands.” Mr. Ackerman turns to the next page before he crosses his legs. His eyes flicker up to look at you to find irritation seeping out of your through eyes narrowed at an empty space on the floor, chewing on the inside of your cheek “I assured her that **you are in good hands, Miss Blouse.”

“I’m sorry,” You apologize again for the umpteenth time as you stressfully run your fingers through your hair. “My mother must’ve planned this in hopes that I may grow closer to you.”

Mr. Ackerman cocks his brow at you, “Are you blaming your mother for your cold? Shouldn’t you be blaming the weather, or that you rode on horseback on a rainy day?”

"I cannot blame my mother for my cold or the weather, but I can blame her for scheming along with it." You sigh, leaning your head back onto the pillow, "My mother is an opportunist, so she must've seen the rain clouds as her 'moment to grasp'. She was adamant that I take horseback and not that carriage. My mother is many things, but most importantly, she's a scheming woman."

Much to your surprise, Mr. Ackerman smirks at your words. He smirks.

He licks his thumb before turning the page of his book, his eyes ghosting over the words without much intention to actually read.

"What are you doing?" You ask, twisting to face him, your hand tucking beneath the side of your face.

"I'm reading." He isn't.

"Here?"

"Would you rather I not keep you company?" His grey eyes blink away from the page and up at you. "Isn't this the whole point of your visit, to get o know each other?"

"W—Well, yes, but I didn't think you'd take our proposition quite literally." You voice falls soft at the end of your sentence and you feel yourself shrink in embarrassment.

"How else are we to make them believe we've formed an attachment?"

"Oh, well—"

"Is my company a bother?"

You shake your head. "Is mine?"

Mr. Ackerman chuckles and if it weren't for the whirling of your brain, you would've caught it. "Merely tolerable, really. You best get some rest, Miss. Blouse."

When you awaken again, it’s a little later in the afternoon and the sun is harshly bleeding through the glass window and casting over your face.

The first thing you notice is not the freshly changed rag resting over your forehead, but the empty chair that Mr. Ackerman sat himself earlier. You pout and you feel a little disappointed.

Disappointed?

What?

You prop yourself up on your elbows, drawing a sigh of relief. The smell of fresh sheets permeate your lungs and your tilt your head back before tilting it back up again.

Through your hooded gaze, your eyes scan through the room. You finally appreciate just how beautifully decorated it is. Shades of complimentary greens canvas the room and soft golds accent the room here and there. It’s ingrained in the walls and on the doors, and coloring the the bed posts, too.

With nimble fingers, you peel the covers off and a wave of cool air washes over your body.The floor is just as cold when your feet meet the carpet. You shuffle around the room, nosing through things but never really touching anything. You're too scared you might accidentally break something.

But the thirst of your curiosity has yet to be quenched, so you find yourself straying out the room, trotting down the hall and twirling around the space gleefully.

The estate is something written in the books. If it wasn't for the dreary, unsettling air hanging over you as thick as fog, the feeling would be magical.

Too busy to play make believe in your head, you find yourself too far off the path. Everything looks the same, and you eyes widen in panic.

Think, think, think, you chant inwardly, twisting your head around for something familiar.

Panic rises from your chest and lodges into your throat, and the last thing you need is to fall onto Mr. Ackerman's bad side.

But before your knees can shake in such unnerving trepidation, faint whispers echoing down the hall and towards you pull you from your thoughts. The voice are so faint and low, you nearly mistaken it to be elves.

You listen intently and follow the source, passing through a few more paintings and doors to lead you to a fragment of light bouncing off the wall and onto a door left ajar. You come to an immediate standstill when you recognize the voice — it's Mr. Ackerman.

Every inch of you tells you to turn around and walk away, but you aren't your mother's daughter for nothing. So the greater part of you belonging to her tugs you close, stealing a peak through the little gap as you hold your breath.

"When did you hear of this?" Mr. Ackerman's voice is gravelly, laced in annoyance. You hear him sharply huff followed by the sound of a hand slamming against the table, causing you to jolt in place. "How long have you known?"

"Not long," The unfamiliar, gruff voice says, and Levi grumbles. "Be thankful I'm telling you now and not waiting any longer. How could I with all your dallying? Since when have you taken any interest in marriage?"

"I haven't." He clips, tone dry. "The point is —"

"The point is, he's back and the last thing you need to do is wasting your time in courting a woman. Honestly, Levi, since when have you been so reckless?"

"Erwin," Mr. Ackerman grits, "my personal affairs have nothing to do with you. Who I choose to spend my time with has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me!" Mr. Smith seethes, yelling in a whispers. "If you cannot do your job, then how can I trust you? Do you not remember the reason why we're here?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"It seems that you are," Your eyes widen at Mr. Smith's counter, "she's slept here for two days, and you for two days, you've watched over her instead of doing what I've instructed you to do."

"She was sick." Mr. Ackerman argues flatly.

"Hange is a doctor for a reason."

"And I don't trust them for a reason."

You can only assume it's Mr. Smith who sighs dejectedly and clicking his tongue agitation. It only further piques your interest, and you wish it doesn't. But you can't help it, hearing that Mr. Ackerman stayed by your side while you rested made your cheeks burn and you can't help but grin to yourself, completely overjoyed.

You mentally kick yourself for being so much like your mother.

"You cannot hold that burden with you forever." Mr. Smith sighs.

"Whatever," Is the weak counter Mr. Ackerman spits back. "I'll take care of it tonight — the one of Governor Pixy's."

"Be sure to make yourself like an artificial night when you do." Mr. Smith commands, his voice smooth and stern. "You mustn't be caught."

"When have I ever been?"

You quickly leave, sprinting down the hall the moment you hear a chair grating against the floor.

Your heart drums in your chest and you breath tremulously. You heard something you shouldn't have even if it was only in incoherent pieces. Truly, it could be anything, but with the rumors circulating around him, it shouldn't be so surprising.

So why is it?

You find yourself in a more familiar part of the estate and you breathe out in relief.

You’re about to head back into your room when you stumble past a room, catching a glance of a grand piano standing tall from the corner of your eye. You retract your steps and turn your head to get a better look, your lips falling into an 'o' when you do.

She's beautiful, you think.

It’s an alluring, glossy ebony piano — one Sasha finds herself drooling over to play on whenever she sees one. She'll hate you so much when you tell her about it.

Against your better judgement, with all the bells warily ringing for you not to, you walk over to the piano, your hand shadowing over the wood. You take a seat before the keyboard just to take a good look at her. You have no intention to play her, really. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't for the life of you.

Your eyes flicker to the fall board of the piano and find a name engraved in gold.

"Petra," you whisper. "It's very nice to meet you. You're very beautiful, aren't you?"

"What the hell are you doing?" You shoot up from the chair and snap your head up to find Mr. Ackerman fuming at you. His eyes dark with rage and his jaw screwed shut, gritting at you. "I asked you a question."

"I— I didn't touch anything." You peep. You feel incredibly small underneath his scrutinizing gaze. You wish the ground would swallow you up right then and there. "I, I really didn't—"

"Get the fuck away from her." Mr. Ackerman speaks lowly, his voice quietly trembling, but you can't hear it. 

Even if you hadn’t done anything wrong, you feel as if you’ve been caught red handed. Fear buzzes in your head and fogs up any line of thought. 

"I'm sorry?"

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THE PIANO!" He bellows, his eyes as fiery as his anger, causing you to stumble back and nearly trip up on your feet. "Who the fuck do you think you are, wandering into places you have no business? Is this what you shitty farm people are like? You get a chance to walk into a place thrice the size of your home and they think they could just parade around?!"

"I—I didn't mean to —"

"You and your family are fucking disgusting."

There are many things you're willing to put up with. You don't mind if someone were to come after you and call you out, but coming after your family is completely different. So your kindness and the very last bit of your patience snaps like a twig.

"I would imagine you're the disgusting one." Your voice is still small, but you’re building up to your confidence, peeling your eyes away from the patterned carpet to stare daggers right back at Mr. Ackerman who stills completely.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll admit I've overstepped and I deeply apologize for that," You begin, your voice no longer wavering in fear, "but how dare you? My family’s been nothing but kind to you."

"I think you've mistaken that I fucking care."

"I've heard many things about you, too many, for that matter. Yet I never labelled as anything as derogatory as what you've called me." You draw out a sharp breath, closing your eyes for a moment to steady you heart before continuing, "I think its disgusting, I think,  that such a man as yourself, who've I've heard has been through hell and back, would think so lowly of people that's no different than him."

You never dared to listen to the rumors or any of the gossip. Even when your mother would try to entertain any of it, you’d stop listening or leave the room if you could. But if Mr. Ackerman was willing to aim for such a low blow, you couldn't think of a reason why you shouldn't do the same.

"I think you’re 'fucking disgusting' for forgetting where you came from."

Mr. Ackerman clenches his jaw and balls his fits tight til his knuckles paint white. He's ready to fire bullets into your self-esteem, but before Mr. Ackerman can even utter a syllable, a servant appears behind him, clearing his throat to cut of the momentum.

"Apologies for the intrusion," The servant says, his tone monotonous and dry, "but it Miss Blouse's brother is here to collect her."

You widen your eyes at the servant, and your expression softens. 

“Reiner’s here?” You voice is small again. 

“Yes, Miss.”

"Perfect." Mr. Ackerman huffs, his whole body still tense. "Get the fuck out."

You snap your gaze back to Mr. Ackerman, sneering, "Gladly."

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[iwritefandomimagines]

SIMM!MASTER x READER: “A kiss isn’t ‘nothing’!”

prompt #12 - requested

masterlist

pairing: simm!master x reader

description: you’ve never quite been certain of the master’s feelings towards you, or even yours towards him. but a spontaneous kiss and his denial of it’s significance leads to serious contemplation and, perhaps, confessions.

warnings: angst ! a little soft at the end :-)

words: 1,426

“I can’t believe you spent all of that time fawning over the Doctor,” the Master laughed as you followed him out of his own TARDIS doors, “He’s hardly shown you half the places he could.” 

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest sourly and staying silent.

“I’m just saying, sweetheart,” he teased, knowing it got under your skin when he called you that, “All of space and time at his fingertips and he’s shown you practically none of it.”

You shook your head, “I was perfectly happy, we saw more than I’d have ever expected to see anyway,” you paused, muttering your next words under your breath, “He was better company, anyway.”

“Is that so, pet?”

The Master stopped abruptly now, twisting to face you and now blocking your path so you could walk no further either. His eyes flickered from your head to your feet and back up again, flirtatiously licking his lips. 

He did this often, subtly flirted with you before returning to his usual ‘couldn’t care less’ attitude that irked you so strongly. 

Feelings between you had never been clear. In the time you spent on the TARDIS with him and the Doctor, he’d always assumed you had feelings for the Doctor and had never seemed pleased by this; Always mocking, always a little too touchy-feely, always a tad too irritated when you were close to the Doctor.

But since you’d left the Doctor and agreed to travel with him, your inkling that he felt anything towards you had dissipated as quickly as your hope to ever see the Doctor again. The Master seemed to have lost interest, more often teasingly calling you his ‘pet’ (specifically in reference to him having ‘stolen’ you from the Doctor) than actually behaving as though he even wanted you around.

You felt silly for ever expecting more, really. You knew the Master was far from a kind man, far from the kind to fall in love with a human. But the Doctor was preoccupied anyway, too much going on for you to really feel comfortable travelling with him anymore, and the Master had offered you adventure that you couldn’t refuse.

And now here you stood, the lush green forestry of the planet Hodorix ahead of you but a scowl on your face as the Master knowingly pushed your every button.

You hated that butterflies seemed to be flitting in your stomach at the twinkle in his eye and the smirk on his face, but the contrasting irritation also bubbling in your gut somewhat neutralised this anyway. Did he feel anything for you at all? Hell, you didn’t even know how you felt about him.

Before you could reply, the Master put his index finger to your chin and brought your face upwards. His warm breath fanned over your face for a moment and you thought you might go into cardiac arrest as his other hand caressed your cheek, that same smug smirk adorning his features still.

“I’m not sure it is,” his voice was barely above a whisper as you stood as still as stone under his gaze. 

And then he dipped his head to kiss you.

His lips lingered on yours for a moment, before his teeth grazed your bottom lip and tugged it for just a second.This snapped you out of your daze, startling you backwards and away from him as he simply swiveled on his heel and continued striding through the grass with a spring in his step.

“What the fuck was that?”

You were seething with anger now, fury coursing through your veins as you marched behind him. He didn’t even turn to look at you, practically skipping at the ease with which he’d enraged you.

“Nothing, sweetheart.”

“Nothing? Master a kiss isn’t nothing! Who the hell do you think you are just... just kissing me like that? You’re so fucking infuriating!”

He laughed flippantly, turning around again to face you and bringing his hand to his face as though in deep thought, “I know.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, or eyes, as his face showed not a hint of care for your feelings. The anger continued to bubble in your gut, but mingled now with a simmering pain, almost. You hadn’t even realised how much you wanted him to feel something until now, when it seemed so clear he didn’t.

“I can’t believe I fooled myself into thinking travelling with you was ever a good idea,” you spat, stepping closer to him, “I let myself think you cared, let myself believe I mattered even a sliver to you. But this is just about the Doctor, isn’t it?”

You paused for a moment, catching your breath as you watched him gulp. 

“All you ever wanted to do was take something away from the Doctor. You thought I loved him and you thought maybe he felt the same, so you could just rip me away from him? Some pathetic little power trip for you? Admit it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You scoffed, fed up, “Or why don’t you just admit that you’re lonely too, eh? You’re pathetic and weak and you need me, you just won’t admit it. You need someone around, just like the Doctor,” the fury had taken over, and you couldn’t bite your tongue even if you wanted to, you needed to know how he felt.

“Y/N, stop,” was all he said, but you knew you couldn’t now. You didn’t even know what you were saying anymore, no processing of thought now just pure, unadulterated anger.

“I never wanted to be with the Doctor like that. I don’t know where you got that idea, but I never wanted him. I wanted you, you fucking idiot. For some stupid reason I’ve grown attached to you, and I wanted to travel with you. Not him. You,” you seethed, “But I travelled with him because he made me feel like he wanted me around, at least! And I hoped you might too, when it was just you and I. I don’t know what I was thinking-”

Before you could say any more, the Master reached up and captured your face between his hands, pressing another kiss to your lips and cutting you off. This kiss was different, more passionate, and this time you melted into the kiss comfortably instead of pulling back.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” he mumbled as he pulled away, hands still on your face and no sign of his usual cocky demeanour now, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” your chest was still rising and falling rapidly, your heartbeat strong and fast as you fell aghast at his sudden softness, “That’s all you can say?”

He looked lost for a moment, before composing himself and gently releasing your face from his hands as though he feared he may break you.

“You’re right. I am pathetic, and I am weak. Because I do need you, and I’ve made you feel as though that’s an imponderable concept,” his voice was softer than you’d ever imagined it could be, and for a moment you could have sworn his eyes were glazed over, “I’m not used to this; I’m not used to feelings, or even to company. But I do need you around, Y/N, I do. I care about you, and I want to keep you safe. I’m just selfish and... I’m sorry.”

You were speechless, brain struggling to comprehend all that he’d just said.

“This isn’t just some sick game of yours?” you asked almost inaudibly, fumbling with the hem of your shirt as you briefly avoided eye contact, “You... you mean it?”

He almost looked irritated for a moment, as though the idea of him just playing with your head was inconceivable, before his face relaxed again and he shook his head, “I mean it, Y/N. I’m not a good man, I know, but I promise I’ll make an effort, for you. I don’t want to lose you. In fact, I don’t know what I’d do if I did.”

You weren’t sure what all of this meant. You felt your heart swell just a little at his words, but you were still confused. Did he feel anything beyond platonic companionship, then? Or was the kiss just to shut you up?

“And the kiss?”

He kissed your temple now, hand running through your hair just once before he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Of course it wasn’t nothing, Y/N. Kissing you could never be nothing. I want you around, I need you around. And if it’s alright, I’d like to kiss you again.”

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eee thank you as always for reading & thank you for the request anon! i hope this didn’t go too off course and angsty, but i had so so much fun writing it! feel free to keep requesting as requests are still open -- here is my current (updated) prompt list, and for the time being here is my masterlist too!

i lowkey love writing kinda soft master moments, also.... simm!master is an all time fav so <3 this request was a joy to write hahah

#doctor who #doctor who imagine #simm!master #simm!master x reader #simm!master imagine #simm!master imagines #john simm #the master x reader #the master imagine #the master imagines