#I have trouble even making calls but I'm supposed to figure this shit out somehow ok yeah sure no big deal

[xerotiny99]

Trouble in Paradise // Our Precious #3

Trouble in Paradise (Our precious series 3)

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Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader

Warning: smut, dom!yunho, sub!reader, bits of food play (a little disgusting if you aren't into that kinda thing), frottage (non-penetrative sex), cunnilingus (oral sex), nipple/breast simulation, dirty talk & degradation (ofc, because Yunho's really got a foul mouth on him, and we like it <I need therapy>).

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by mentioned tags. Please, if you're really grossed out by "transferring" food from one's mouth to another's, then do not proceed. (Here, it's just strawberries, tho. So totally upto you 💀)

Gist: after the deliberate game night, you're left to contemplate about Jongho's and his flatmates' proposition of being their fucktoy. If that wasn't enough of an issue for you, a phone call from your parents leaves you in a mess. And the only way to relax during your hard times is something you know Yunho does all too well.

Word Count: 12,686

  "So, have you thought about it?"

You bite your lip, obviously contemplating every word of his.

"You know, Jongho just asked me about it a couple of days ago." you stifle a groan and shake your head, "agreed you all are very eager to have me on board, but I'm going to need some time to think, right?"

You take a deep breath, listening to his deep voice murmuring, "and we don't mind how long you take to give us your ultimatum. Of course, I am aware of the kind of plight you're put through. So, don't sweat it and don't make a decision you would end up regretting, okay?"

The grin on your face widens when you let his words sink in; well, he was right. But there was something which was quite tedious to figure out.

"Can I ask you something, Yunho?"

Hearing him lowly hum against your ear, you resist every urge to stuff your hand in between your legs; you roll over your stomach and grab a pillow to hold it under your chest. Your lethargic body relaxes almost immediately when you feel the soft coziness of the pillow and silk sheets draped over your bed. The mattress sinks once again when you move, shifting on your back to stare at the bland ceiling before pushing your phone closer to your ear.

Your heart thumped in your chest, words itching to be said, somehow balancing off the tip of your tongue yet having no grit to let them out. This question, the supposed doubt you had in your mind was troubling you ever since Jongho dropped you off at your dorms the next day of your game night. It was a fiddling question, not too serious or brooding, yet you had your conscience tied in a knot over it. The after-bearing sentiments of your proposed 'bargain' had been irking you to your ultimate limits.

What if, keeping a sex exclusive relationship with the people you barely know, turns out to be the worst decision of your life?

Or, what if your feelings come into play with this superficial relationship?

It may seem crazy, but spending only a week with Yunho had already made you sublime; you could only dream of experiencing the better half of a relationship because Yunho was certainly the boyfriend material, the exact kind you had been craving for years. As truth would have it, and as it would sting your morales, you had couple of exes who were shitty and contemptibly obnoxious. So, now that you had a man who was ticking off every single wish on your list, the profuse quandaries were messy.

"Princess, did you fall asleep?" he teases you through the phone, his tone making you envisage him smirking.

You might as well—after a hectic day of chemistry lectures coming into a play for your lethargy and hebetude, you certainly didn't mind letting off some steam before falling sleep.

"No, I'm here. I'm just..." you trail off, "...I'm thinking of ways to voice my thoughts."

"Have I ever judged you? Even though for the past week you've told me some really disturbing shit," he laughs, and you retaliate, "and don't act as if you didn't enjoy as much as I did narrating it to you."

"I did. I did," his laughter wrings out to a sigh, "don't think too much, okay? Be openly honest with me, ask me what you want to."

"I don't want to ruin your grocery store trip," you let out a soft titter and could picture him rolling his eyes, "understandable, because grocery shopping is all rainbows and unicorns anyway."

"If you had me there with you, it would've been fun," you mumble, turning on your side to stare the dingy wall of your dorm room.

"If that was the case, we'd probably not even make it to the store." He adds, "and we do not want to piss Seonghwa off. He's not pretty when he gets mad."

You drawl on your lower lip and squeeze your thighs together, "it's hard to believe, but okay."

"Ask, Angel." His stern and commanding tone makes your heart palpitate faster in your chest, fluttering sparks in your pussy as you prepare yourself to question him, "okay, it's a simple question, so...why me?"

"Why you, as in why we asked you to be our fucktoy?" he muses and you groan softly yet again, rolling back on your stomach to hold the pillow tighter under your chest.

"Yes. Why me? Why not someone else—maybe Wooyoung's friend, or San's or you know, Mingi's even." You grit your teeth, nervously chomping on your cheek to rid your anxiety.

Yunho chuckles, heartily, very proudly so because he wasn't sure if he had heard you right or not. "Do you think those losers have any girlfriends, Angel?"

"Why not?" you let a smile fleet on your lips.

"Because Wooyoung is a manwhore, he's slept with entire female population in his department and if it isn't obvious, I'm not interested in someone who could be a prospect carrier for herpes," he titters still, "I'm not slut-shaming him, but—ah well fuck it! I am slut-shaming him. Not my fault, he is a pathetic excuse for a human because hit and run is his specialty. Now, you tell me why any of his casualties would agree to our demands, let alone would want to sleep with us?"

You shake your head, trapping your lower lip with your teeth. "I get it. So, am I supposed to feel special?"

"Hmm, I'd rather consider myself lucky to have a cum-slut like you." you squeeze your thighs again, remembering the two nights you had spent with him. "Hold on a moment, let me park my car first."

You hum, restless and exhausted; your day hadn't been decorous since the morning, and considering you had two consecutive chemistry sessions today, you were definitely drained of your frisky energy. Yet, there's something about Yunho and talking to him while he drives around the town to get to the grocery store; at this point you questioned your motives and abilities—why were you getting turned on by a man driving his car to the store?

Maybe because it was very much attractive in your mind. Him, driving a hatchback (probably, you hadn't seen what car he drives), wearing a dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black shades on his eyes, the dainty rattling bracelets he usually adorns around his wrist—to conclude, the picture you were painting in your mind was the cause of your panties getting drenched.

Silence engulfs you, not necessarily, you could catch up on the soft shuffling sounds his clothes, or even his delicate grunts as he puts the car in park and gets out, slamming the door behind him. Although, there's a momentary hush when his phone gets disconnected from the car Bluetooth; he holds his phone close to his ear, while he straightens out a stray crease falling on his shirt near his waist.

"Angel?" he calls out, breaking your trance of staring at your study desk adjoining your bed, "you're still on line. Are you...?"

"I'm here, I did not fall asleep, though I think I might because of the very tiring day I've had." You pout, shifting on your bed to rest against the headboard, while you bring your legs to your chest.

Yunho chuckles, "ah my dear princess, I am coming over after I'm done with this tedious task. You're not gonna get much sleep then. I'd suggest you take a nap till I get done here."

"Oh." you bite your lips, glancing down at your chest. "Wake me up when you get here, and ah—p-s, I'm not wearing anything under my dress."

You hear him let out a breathy chortle, more like a scoff which taunts you into slipping your free hand to the hem of your silk dress. Coming back from the university, you were too exhausted to care about your outfit. You simply put on a coral shaded silk babydoll which barely covered your ass, with spaghetti straps and called it a day—of course, by also abandoning the underwear. So, you were practically naked under the flimsy silk dress, your breasts loose and hanging, your nipples taut from the friction and they really did poke through the material of your dress.  Both of you are quiet for a minute, but then you're also deeply submerged in the thoughts of him coming to your dorm room and fucking you. An annoying chime of bell dings in the background, followed by a soft sound of mechanical doors sliding open—that brings you down to earth, and so does his grumbling voice.

"An open invitation for me to wreck you in any way I want?" he muses, tittering as he moves past the doors and grabs himself a cart. "Princess, you better know what you're getting yourself into. I won't be gentle."

His warning only makes you wetter, your hand slithering past the hem of your dress to trace your fingers on your wet and slick folds. Biting back a whimper when the warmth of your fingers melts around your skin, you take a deep breath and throw your head behind. You knew your breathing would sound wispy to him if you tried to speak but you couldn't control yourself from not uttering a word.

"Yun—you can do—ahh..." you stutter, pressing your fingers against your mound, just above your clit, "I'll be waiting."

"Is my princess touching herself to the thought of me fucking her raw again?" he slurs his words, merely in a whisper considering he was in public. You were deaf to the somber tunes playing in the mart, you were too busy controlling your raspy breath because your desires were flaming you out.

"Yes..."

Yunho lets out a laugh and shakes his head, muttering under his breath then, "can't wait to taste that tight little cunt of yours. Rest well, princess."

He's the one to hang up on you; rather than throwing an imaginary fit, your mind is filled with the images of his cock straining in his pants as he meanders through the aisles of the supermarket. You might be too over in your head, but the exhaustion was slowly crawling up your spine. In no time you find yourself slipping against the headboard and slumping yourself properly in the bed. And in the few passing minutes, your eyes close and you're drifting away into your dreamland.

Dreamland. An alternate universe where you were living your wildest fantasies—maybe a little too realistically. The resonating voice of Yunho and his words were dwelling on your mind. Your imagination was coming to life, nonetheless in your dream. Soon, you're breathing out whimpers of desperation, squeezing your thighs together and murmuring your moans; you never thought you'd be having wet dreams, but you weren't fazed by the unpredictability. The tingling sensation in your pussy only grows when you envision Yunho with his head buried in between your legs, licking and lapping his tongue in your slit, over and over again.

A harsh tug at your lungs makes you breathe deeply, eyes squinting to the imaginary pleasure you were experiencing—with your brows scrunched together, you knew you were pooling in your lingerie. Though, in your dreams, Yunho doesn't stop, and it feels too real to not react to it; however, in the dark corner of your mind, you feel another presence.

Jongho.

The grinning man stands behind Yunho, arms folded over his chest, lips quivering with his eyes fixated on Yunho. Him watching Yunho eat you out was a turn on you didn't think you'd have. But there he was, with his twinkling gaze not once wavering off of you two. Why was it so hot? Why...? Out of the blue, a knot tied itself in your stomach and your guts loosen; the urge to just let go crosses your hazy mind but you try to hold it in. Until it gets too hard to bear and you're jerked out of your sleep.

You don't know how long it has been but when your eyes crack open, you're in direct contact with your open window and furling curtains. The space holds a beguiling view of the evening merging with the night, dark at the seams and bright in the middle. Purple and orange hues mixing together to a crisp shade of the fore-night; you're immersed in admiring the sky, too much to realize you had been holding yourself in. Though when the dire need starts tickling your stomach again, you rush out of your bed and head to the bathroom to relieve yourself.

Once your conscious clears out, you notice several things which have been cluttering your mind. One, you had a wet dream about Yunho and Jongho, two people you never thought you'd ever dream of. Two, as you're staring at your reflection in the mirror, you discern a wet patch on your dress, right near your lap; the dress must've been wedged in between your thighs when you were having that sensual dream. Three, you are really horny. Really really horny. Which sort of reminds you of yours and Yunho's conversation before you dozed off to sleep.

Biting your lip, you get out of the bathroom and dump yourself on the edge of the bed. Your eyes glance over at your desk to read the time on your alarm clock. 5:56 pm, it read, almost 6:00 pm you thought and heaved out a sigh. You run a hand through your hair and stroke out the tangles with your fingers. Searching for your phone, you find it near your pillow and grab it in a haste. When you watch the screen blare with the notifications, your breath hitches in your throat and then delves deeper down in your stomach.

Ten missed calls from your mom.

"Fuck," you curse under your breath and dial her number.

The ring resonates in your ear, infuriating and anxiety striking; yet you listen to it till it echoes out into the obnoxious droid voice telling you the 'number you've dialed is unavailable. Please try again'. You huff and call again but are met with the same outcome as before and it continues on for the next ten attempts you make to call her. Giving up at what you could remember as your twelfth try, you throw your phone aside and let the anxiety eat you out. How ironic was that, in your dreams it was Yunho, and in reality, it's your own mom.

You were certainly restless, weaving all these uncertain notions about your mom—your father too, but since you and your dad didn't really share much of an intimate bond, you weren't surprised to receive no calls from him. Soon, the anxiety reaches your gut, you're quivering with fear and second thoughts; what if it had been an emergency? What if your mom had something really important to say to you? What if you—what if you were too late to call her back? Everything was eventually gone in the blink of an eye.

Knock! Knock!

Two knocks sound on your door, and you flinch; even though you knew who was at your door, you couldn't shake off your perturbation regarding your family. It was true, you had stood up for yourself when your parents were against you pursuing your higher education in a different state but now all those moments were disappearing into a heap of worries. Did you even make the right decision of coming here? Given, you had scholarship and exempted tuition fee, was your decision to come here really ethical from all other perspectives?

Troubled, you drag your feet to answer the door. A trifling gasp is caught in your throat when instantly you're pushed against the door by someone's burly arms, closing the door in process. You were quite used to Yunho's scent, knowing he always carried around a delicate whiff of amber and peonies. The addicting scent rakes your senses to its fullest when his lips capture yours in a searing kiss. His lips move with yours, one arm around your waist tightly wound to keep you in place while his other hand cups a side of your face. Delighted, but mostly razed by his touches, a frail smile sculpts your lips, and you slide your arms all over his back to hold onto his shoulders.

The worries plaguing your mind soon melt away into the heat of your kiss; you're leaning in for more, diving headfirst into this beautiful mess when you know he's only going to tease you and not give in so easily. You're left whining when he bites down on your lower lip and tugs on it. Watching your lips wobble with a smirk on his plump ones, he chuckles softly and shakes his head. He grabs your jaw and pushes his fingers deep into your cheek for your mouth to open wide.

"Hey, Angel," one of his eyebrow twitches on his forehead when he calls out your name with a smirk. "You asked why you, right? I'll tell you why..."

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and sucks at a random spot on the juncture between your jaw and head. Warm tongue rubs your skin, before his teeth sink in and his lips suckle. You groan at the sensation, your mind numbing to any anxiety you felt before. His hand drops from your waist skims over the hem of your babydoll before diving under to trace it along your inner thigh; his fingertips graze against your wet folds before rubbing you down gently.

You prevent yourself from moaning out loud when his finger moves in and out of your slit at a slow pace. Holding your jaw tightly, he nudges your head back into the door.

"This—this fucking thing you have going," he mumbles against your neck, "I don't care about others and why they want you, but for me it's this—the way you're attuned with my body. And also, how fucking addicting you are to me."

You swallow thickly and throw your head further back against the door, banging yourself but you weren't bothered in the least. Hearing soft crinkles of a polythene bag, you peek at him through your half-lidded eyes; lustful gaze rummages around till your vision fills with the sight of him remaining buried in your neck, sucking deep purple bruises on your skin. The carnal darkness in your room is scattered when the lurid rays of moon wash over your invader. You notice him wearing a long coat over his outfit, you carefully listen to every crinkle of his dainty silver bracelets, and you're definitely lost in the appreciation of his teeth creating blotches on your skin.

"This thing started with us," he adds, a little breathless, "as much as I am willing to share you with my piddling flatmates, I can't pretend to be I'm okay with our arrangement. I'll be jealous, I'll be possessive. At certain times you might even see a side of me you probably won't find too adorable."

"I like it when you get jealous, though," you slur your words, smirking at him diligently. "I'm not sure what it is, but you rather have what belongs to you in your own ruthless ways."

Yunho coughs out a tiny chortle before stepping back and shaking his head; you stumble on your weak feet, watching him shrug off his long coat before flinging it over on the seat of the chair in front of your desk. Sighing dejected, as the anxiety once again starts bubbling under your skin, you make yourself comfortable on the edge of your bed. You kept your eyes on him as he loosens first few buttons of his pastel blue shirt—his bracelets keep chiming in time to time, with every movement of his hands. Just as you pictured him to be dressed; he wore a blue dress shirt adorning thin vertical white stripes and paired it with black trousers and boots. The faded blue hair of his was complementing the look, alongside the bits of silver jewelry he wore. He takes a step close to you and leans over to get to your face level; he slips a polythene bag in your lap and when you inspect into it, there are two plastic containers of peaches and strawberries. Did he get those for you? How thoughtful. He clears his throat, lips ghosting over yours as his arms plant themselves on either side of your thighs, trapping you against the bed this time. 

"The first time I saw you at the bookstore, all lost and bemused, like a deer in headlights—I wanted to ruin your innocence so fucking badly," he murmurs, his hot breath fanning your cheeks, "if only had you taken a peek in my head that day. It's a bit exhilarating, isn't it? —" he nudges you with a subtle nod of his head, his hands tracing along the length of your arms, "—how you had to be Jongho's friend. How you were dragged into this mess."

For the purpose of your sanity, your fingertips grasp onto the plastic containers, tightly so because the proximity between your faces kept on dithering to nothing. Running his hands back and forth along your arms, he trails one up to hold you in place by your neck; you gasp the sensation of his fingers tightening around your throat, sinking into your skin, suffocating you.

He presses his lips against yours in a mere touch to whisper, "maybe it's some sort of fate's blueprint or whatever. I don't really care what it is..." he hums out low and drags his words in a gentle mumble, "but I know there's a spark between us, between our bodies to be so profoundly in sync with each other."

Stifling a moan, you mutter against his lips, "are you done with this banal folly? If you are, then just shut up and fuck me."

He raises an eyebrow at you, a small smirk then fleeting on his lips. "Your wish is my command, princess."

"What...?"

You muse to yourself when he pulls away and takes a step back, he eyes you with a lustful twinkle in his eye and strides towards to the full length mirror you had accommodated beside your study desk for the time being. Your dorm wasn't much, to be honest. It was spacious, yes; a bed to a side, a study desk adjacent to it and other trivial things you had lying around, including a closet to the right side of the door, a mini fridge situated next to it, and to the left side of the door was the bathroom. Single room dormitories were expensive compared to the shared ones, but you didn't like the idea of having a roommate or two even.

"Was this the same mirror you used to send me that picture?" he questions, observing it closely.

"Yeah, what about it?" you place the plastic bag to your side and bite your lip, considering.

"Hmm," he purrs softly and picks the mirror up to place it right in front of you. "Let's set it here, shall we."

"What's on your mind, Yunho?" you whine softly, turning it into a chuckle when he prepares to get down on his knees before you. "Really...?"

As exasperated as your voice is, you can't hide your anticipation of your body when he slides himself closer to you. His hands on your thighs, sear a burn on your skin when he grips your flesh. Thumbs rub circles, till they're pressing down and sinking in; he pushes your legs apart, and you let him do as he pleases. One of his hands is already skimming across your thigh to the hem of your dress, pushing it up till it rolls around your chest. He holds it there, exposing your glistening cunt for his eyes to feast on.

"I said I'd be pining to taste you," he mutters in a breath, and gazes up at you, "so here I am. Unlike others, I deliver what I say, princess. And I've been craving a taste of you for quite a while now—since the day I saw you. But with the mirror in front, you can see it for yourself, the kind of mewling mess you become for my tongue."

He shrugs and pouts, tightening his hand which rested on your thigh, while he prompts you with a nod of his head to hold your dress up. You do as said, letting your trembling fingers clip on the hem of your dress to hold it up. Perusing your glistening cunt with his lust-filled eyes, his lips curl into a sly smirk. He slots himself closer to you, tracing his delicate lips down your abdomen, fluttering kisses which tickle your spine and your spark your cunt. Watching his reflection in the mirror was already fucking you up; but watching his reflection when his head is buried deep in between your legs was certainly savage. 

"And what are those fruits for? You were going to treat yourself, weren't you?" you mumble softly under your breath.

Dropping one hand to stroke his hair away from his forehead, you tangle your fingers in his luscious locks while trying to clasp your lower lip to bite back on any possible moans you might voice. His kisses trace up your stomach, up till he's giving your skin short kitten licks under your breasts. Your fingers pinch his hair, other hand struggling to hold your dress up—his thumbs help you soothe by rubbing circles on your thighs, engulfing you in a trance of comfort and ease.

"Of course, I'm treating myself," he mumbles under his breath, skimming his wet tongue down your abdomen to your stomach again. "Strawberries just taste better, you know."

Scoffing out in bewilderment, he presses a deep kiss just over your belly button and drags his lips slowly down, purposely teasing and nicking his teeth at your skin. You tilt your head back, your lips carved in a sleazy smile when the sensation of his soft lips flutter further down; your fingers tighten their hold on his faded blue locks, while other let's go of your dress. The silky material of your babydoll slips over his head, but he does not seem bothered as he continues littering soft kisses down your belly button.

And then, a moan hitches in your throat, anticipating. You're urged to squeeze your thighs together; only because his hot breaths were caressing your mound. His thumbs carried on rubbing circles in your flesh, soothing you bit by bit. In a way, his placid ministrations were helping you to keep your legs spread from him.

"Hmm, fuck," you gasp, voiceless, under your breath, screwing your eyes shut to the feeling of his soft lips pressing insanely close against your clit.

But you're left high when he pulls back, angling his head up to look at you; he wasn't fond of your dress slipping down your chest and waist, he didn't like it when your skin was covered. If you had the body to flaunt it, then why would you or anyone else want it covered? That was his logic, according to what you could stipulate from the week you had spent with him. Phrases and words like that made you an absolute puddle for him, you'd melt into a cold and sybaritic plash for him—all because you knew he would worship your body like the goddess you are, whenever he had the chance to. He has a chance now; he wasn't going to let it slip.

"You really like to tease me, don't you?" you squeak, listening to some shuffles of his clothes while your eyes peel open. "Now, what?"

"Getting rid of your lingerie," he grunts, huffing out a stubborn breath while lifting your babydoll over your head. Groping a handful of your tits, he buries his face in the valley of your chest and showers your skin with a few kisses. "I'd rather prefer you wearing nothing when you're around me. Can't get enough of this body, can't get enough..." he pauses, mulling over as his fingers dig into your fleshy tit, "...fuck, I'm all out of words to describe what this body means to me. Not just a fucktoy, no. Not at all. This body...hmm, this body should be displayed in a museum for being so fucking perfect. You're perfect for me, princess. Don't think otherwise, or else..."

Or else? You wondered. Not as much as exalting yourself in the way he was slurring his words, rambling even to get his point across. His teeth scratch your skin, his fingers now rolling your taut nipple; his other hand has been on your thigh all along, stroking circles to keep you levelheaded. You whimper at the sensation of his calloused hand kneading and groping one of your tits, while the other wasn't getting the attention it deserved. Turning your whimper into a whine, you look down at him, surprised to find him staring at you with the loudest smirk he could possibly scour.

"Aww, is my princess needy?" he tugs his lower lip out, brows scrunching down at the corners to feign his discretion. "My needy princess will get everything," he mutters against your skin, and leaves behind open mouth kisses when he gets to your other tit. "Hmmfyou—pfneeded—fthis?"

It drives you crazy how he was being muffled by your tit in his mouth; you glance down, biting your lip to avoid yourself from getting too aroused by the sight beneath. Oh lord, were you wrong. His lips had encased themselves around your flesh, tongue lapping and licking at your hardened peck; though, you could not resist being tempted by his doe eyes staring up at you with such nativity in them. His other hand squeezes your other tit, keeps it going till you're blabbering his name in wispy voice.

"Yunho...please," you shudder to the stimulation of your chest.

He hums around your tit, teeth slowly sinking in and biting lightly, his tongue was at it too, slicking it in his spit and unprecedented licks. Muttering a string of incoherent curses to yourself, you let your hand slip from his hair to the back of his neck, gripping tight. His moan gets muffled around your tit, sending spine-tingling vibrations to your cunt. You needed him, now. There was no way you could handle him playing with your chest like this.

He pulls his mouth back, reverberating a 'pop' sound on purpose as he does. "When I first saw you at the bookstore, I imagined you tasted like strawberries or peaches. So..." he blindly reaches out for the plastic containers of fruit he brought with him, while his other remains on your tit, caressing and pinching. "...coming across these at the grocery store was a good trip to the memory lane. I was reminded and I thought why not?"

"Let me devour you, princess."

You don't know what it was, but it was enough to make you leak. And in that while, you couldn't figure out how he got one of the strawberries out of the box you had placed to the side on bed before, and already had it in his mouth. The leaves were off the strawberry, conveniently—as he bites on it, the faint crimson juices slop past his lips and further down on his chin. You wanted to lick him clean. Maybe it was a silent yet coherent thought beeping in your mind, and maybe he had just read your mind. He slithers his hand along your arm and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you down, he lets his lips collide with yours.

Sweet. The redolent taste of strawberries fills up your mouth, eventually, a few bits of it when he forces his tongue in your mouth. There you are, frenching him while he shoves down the broken and mushy pieces of strawberries down your throat. Now, both of your chins are sticky and stained from the juices, though for you, a stray drop trickles past and falls perfectly in between your tits. 

A spark goes off in Yunho's mind when he feels the coldness of the drop dribbling over his hand which still played with your tit. You trace both of your hands to his shoulder and grip them tight, crinkling and creasing his shirt haphazardly—well, as if you cared.  He breaks the kiss and takes a deep breath in, while you're still breathless at how hard his tongue was shoving itself down your throat. A few pieces of strawberry are stuck in the gaps of your cheeks, and you swallow them down as you stare at him.

Picking out another strawberry, Yunho smirks slightly as he brings it to your mouth and prompts you to take a small bite out of it before he engulfs it whole. Again, the juices fill up his mouth, cumulative drops collecting themselves by the edge of his lips—but then don't spill, not until he buries his head back into your chest. A few drops roll down on your skin, his kisses soon turning into open mouth suckles. Pale stains of crimson trail with his mouth as he takes one of your tits in; it was the other one this time. His mouth wraps perfectly around your flesh, sucking and squeezing your tit with his lips and teeth. One of his hands snakes around your waist to rest on the small of your back, while the other cups a side of your face.

"This is awfully freaky," you mumble, dragging one of your hands to play with his hair falling on his nape. "But I like it freaky, you make it seem—ah," you gasp when you feel him give your nipple a gentle tug with his teeth, "—ah fuck, that feels good. So, fucking good..."

Your chest heaves up and down in his face, too bothered by him and his innocent eyes gazing up at you. The warmth of his mouth and the vague gelidity of the strawberry juices dissipates when he detaches himself from your chest; his smirk grows in his cheek, perusing the piece of art he had left behind on your chest. The sticky red strawberry pulp had adhered to your skin quite magnificently and he couldn't be prouder.

"This is just the tip of the iceberg," he winks, swallowing the remnants of fruit in his mouth. "I can get freakier."

Confidence in his eyes strikes you in the best way possible; you for sure know your cunt had drenched your bedsheets by now, all slick with the arousal his mouth was causing.

"Then get freakier, I need more from you."

In the erratic moment of time, he grabs another strawberry from the containers and props it right over your mound. The frigidity of the fruit was searing against your skin, that is only until he had fisted his hand around it and squeezed the life out of it—the pulp and juices trickled down, slotting itself perfectly in your folds and slit.

"Ah, fuck—you fucking bastard," you half-moan-half-chuckle, but it soon turns to an astonished gasp when his hot breath casts itself on your cunt before his wet tongue licks up your slit. "You—fuck—you fucking—you fucking freak!" you succumb to breathlessness and close your eyes tight; clutching his nape with both of your hands, you held onto him for your dear life.

He chortles against your slick folds and delves further down; the tip of his nose nudges with your clit at first, and then slides along your slit. How fucking good did that feel? You moan, your chest ripping itself apart when you do. It was unlike anything you had felt, especially considering pleasures received through oral stimulation. Yunho knew what he was doing, and he was doing it really well. His tongue licks up a stripe, lips sucking around your clit for a hot second before he drags them down to repeat the long and hard licks. You were squirming with a want, the oh-so sweet want of release.

Yunho's hands grip your inner thighs, his thumbs nudge and spread your cunt apart for the remaining pulp and juice of strawberry to roll down in between your folds. He leans in close and picks out the granules with his teeth, biting down softly as he does. It sends tremors under your skin, forces a saccade series of moans and groans out of you while your eyes squint tighter to let out tears. The pleasure was immeasurable, wooing you off into a faraway land of orgasm and joy.

You were delighted, so delighted to find your stomach knotting itself without having to be stimulated with penetration. He continues to lick and suck on your folds, gradually giving your clit some attention with his tongue while his hands groped your thighs and fingers dug in; they were leaving bruises tomorrow, but you were looking forward to it. Those handprints of his, they were going to be something you'd love to show off to your friends or someone.

"Fuck, Yunho. Your mouth—" you take a breath in through your mouth, "—it feels like I'm in paradise."

When your eyes open you see stars twinkling in the corner, your sight was full of them eventually—that is, as he carried on with his ruthless licks and flicks to your clit. The knot was intensifying, if anything, you really were on the verge of letting yourself go and watching you cum all over his face. Your face twitches and you're about...

Ring! Ring! Ring!

The high you once sought to, was now a deliberate low laying fruit; the knot disappears as the blaring sound of your phone's ringtone grows louder. You click your tongue, and blindly swat your hand on the bed next to you to find your phone. As you would recall, you did fling it somewhere when you went to answer the door. However, Yunho wasn't bothered by the deafening rings percolating in the room, he continues. A man on a mission. You mentally groan at that thought and sigh heavily when you find your phone in your hand. Checking the caller ID, you couldn't help but swipe the screen to answer the call.

Mom's calling you. She's calling you back. You needed answers, something to appease you about the ordeal where she felt the need to call you ten times.

Pressing the phone close to your ear and while gasping for air, you mumble, "he-hey mom."

"Oh, hey Angel—wait, did I get you at the wrong time?" you shake your head, trapping your moans in your mouth, "uh-huh, I was worried—I was worried about you and da—and dad. Giving me ten misse—ten missed—fuck."

All breath is knocked out of your lungs when you feel Yunho's tongue slither along your slit and his spit cover you up in its warmth; you're left to drawl on the remaining air in your lungs, specifically when he places his hand on your lower abdomen and forces you to lean behind into the mattress. Your back arches, your hips lift off the edge slightly for him to fix himself better between your legs. The angle your body now holds, gives him the perfect view of your hole. You squirm, wiggling your ass and bucking your hips into his face to get that much needed contact you had been craving for so long.

"Keep it hush, princess," he whispers, glaring up at you, "and watch your mouth when you're talking to your mother, hmm?"

You slightly glance down, hand trembling to hold the phone close to your ear—his face was breathtaking, glistening with your juices and the saccharine scent of the strawberry mixing in with your musk. The tip of his nose goes back to being buried in your slit, while his tongue rolls on your clit till it trails down to your hole.

Knowing where this was headed, you clutch the sheets under you and press your lips together. You so hoped your mom wasn't getting any ideas in her head about why your words were slurred or whimpered.

"Angie, I can call some other time," she murmurs from the other line, reminding you that you were still on call with her.

"Mom, just—just tell me—fuuc—hmmm," you cry out in pleasure when his tongue thrusts into your cunt. "I'm good—I'm good, you had me—hmmm—you had me worried—it's—"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, darling," she interrupts you, her tone soft and gentle. "The thing is, your dad..." she sighs and continues, "...in the last quarter of your dad's business—we're going under, Angel."

She comes straight to the point and bemused you; but your mind is occupied with Yunho's tongue shoving in and out of your cunt, slurping your juices, squelching your fleshy folds, and pressing the tip of his nose against your slick slit. You were done for better this time. The familiar knot ties itself in your stomach again. This time, your body rather hoped you'd get to come undone and release your tension all over his face. But, Yunho had some different ideas in his mind.

Hearing a bit of static from the other side, your mom continues, "you're understanding the weight of this situation, right? It brings me no peace to tell you that," she pauses and you hum, sinking your teeth further down in your lower lip as Yunho's tongue carries on with the abuse, "we can't support your accommodation, Angel. The tuition is already paid for, which we have no concern about since you're on your scholarship—but your dormitory fees, they'll be—you'll have to pay them yourself. Maybe, get a job? Or look for a new residence, where you have to share your rent?"

Her words were going over your head, regardless you were able to catch up on few phrases which sounded important and held grave promise to them. 'Look for a new residence.' Okay. 'Get a job?' Surely something you weren't looking forward to. But 'sharing a house with strangers?'A big no-no.

Though, all you could do was nod along and release your lip from your teeth to mumble, "sure—sure, fine. I'll—mom, I'll call you later at night—I promise, I'm busy—fuck."

The moment the curse escapes your mouth in the form of a moan, you hang up the call and squint your eyes shut; Yunho was thumbing your clit at an accelerated pace, stroking circles to let your orgasm delve deeper into your soul. Your phone slips out from your hand, falling down on the ground with a subtle thump while you bring both of your hands to rest them around his neck. Oh how tempted were you to push his head down, to make his tongue reach deeper into your swollen cunt.

"Fuck, Yun—Yun, I was on call—I was on a fucking call with my mom—fuck, couldn't you—couldn't you tone it down?" you stutter, trying to steady your erratic breath. 

Yunho hadn't stopped thrusting his tongue into you, neither had he stopped stroking your clit with his thumb—he doesn't utter a word and continues to do so. You were done with his teasing, huffing to yourself, you push his head down against yours cunt; now his tongue reached deep, submerged completely in your flesh and your walls clenched tightly around him.

"Yes, fuck, yeah, feels good. So good," you drool, throwing your head back and arching yourself to let the pleasure wash over you.

More importantly, your orgasm was only a few thrusts away; maybe a few flicks of his thumb could have you mewling at him as you release all over his tongue and face. The imaginary sight in your mind was riling you up in the worst ways already—you wonder what it'd be like if it were to come to life. Now that you do think about it, your dream comes crashing through—merging with the reality to spread goosebumps on your skin. Just imagining Jongho being present in the room, watching you get fucked by Yunho's tongue, was pushing you further to your edge.

"Yunho...? I'm—" you tap his shoulder twice, but he doesn't budge and continues to push his tongue in your cunt.

"Fuck." You yell and then scream out his name when you feel your walls clenching around his tongue one last time, "Yunho!"

His thumb stops toying with your clit, but his face remains buried in between your legs, his thumb having quit shoving itself into your cunt. You're flooding down his face, squealing and mumbling his name under your breath in a voiceless chant before catching a beat to respire properly. In the daze of your orgasm hitting you like a bucket of bricks, you hear him hum and nuzzle his head further into cunt; a second passes by in the heat of the moment, and he reels himself back. Leaning away eventually, he straightens himself and wipes his face with the back of his hand, getting some of your slick on the sleeves of his shirt.

"Are you insane?" you breathe out.

"Insane to get my princess cum on my face," he chuckles and shakes his head, "I hope you're feeling better now because I felt you tense up when you were talking to your mother."

He begins unbuttoning his shirt, one by one he undoes the button and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders. Exposing his toned body, he throws his shirt off to somewhere and gets on his feet. You're still trapped in the stupor of your orgasm, to even notice him shimmy out of his pants. Clad in his black briefs, he leans down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

"I've got a problem, Yunho," you murmur, and he nods, "and is it bad enough to keep us from fucking?"

Rolling your eyes you scoff, ready to shove him away, "are you really thinking with your dick, right now?"

He traces his lips down your jaw, leaving behind open mouth kisses along your skin to your neck. His hands roamed to her bare back, skimming his fingertips up front till he drags them painstakingly slow to your stomach and then further to your clit. You hug his shoulders, tight enough to hold onto him.

"You are less tense now, princess. I'm guessing my tricks are working, so...why won't I think with my dick?" he chuckles, kneeling down before you to slot himself between your spread legs.

"It's not about that, Yunho," your whine, suppressing a titter to yourself. "I'm practically homeless."

"What?" he gasps, amused and pulls back to stare at you, a confused smile sculpting on his lips.

"My parents are having some financial troubles; they are falling short to pay me for my accommodation," you pout, noticing the tent in his briefs, "so, I have to find a new place to live. And I don't where I can find an affordable apartment."

The worry lines on your forehead, concerns Yunho too. He licks his lower lip and sighs, "Angel, you can live with us."

"What now?" you massage circles into his shoulders as you hold them.

"Yeah, we've got a spare room in the loft. Well, Jongho occupied it not too long ago, but he can surely move back in with Mingi." He explains, wrapping his hands around your waist, "you don't have to pay us rent because you're going to be paying us in a different way...in all, it's the best arrangement you could ever ask for."

You think, muse and contemplate. To one side of your head you were agreeing with his proposition, but on the other side, you were marred with the thought of living with eight men out of which five were sexually interested in you and two had already fucked you good. Well, you're given no choice but to agree and get along with his deal.

"Hey, you don't have to give me an urgent answer," he mumbles, thumbing the sides of your waist, "after we're done here, you can come on over and we'll talk it out with Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Capisce?"

"Why, are they supposedly the alpha males of the household?" you joke, giggling softly.

"Technically," Yunho shrugs, "Hongjoong owns the loft and he was generous enough to let us stay and share the rent. It started with me and Seonghwa, others eventually joined us through mutual friends—it was the beginning of our freshman year, so..."

"I'd need their permission?"

Yunho scoffs playfully, "princess, no. They'd be happy to welcome you in. But this is supposedly my suggestion and I fall a little short on making such decisions as compared to them. It's better if you talk with Hongjoong."

You sigh, "fine."

A smile fleets on your lips and it delves deeper in your cheek. "So, are you going to ease my mind or not?"

"You don't need to tell me twice, princess," he smirks, diving in to kiss you passionately so.

You kiss back with the same want, same heat crawling up your gut as his; the intensity wasn't dithering, neither was your anticipation. He pushes you back on the bed till you're laying under him and he straddles your lap. The kiss never stops, even when he fumbles with the waistband of his briefs to get them off in a haste. He somehow manages to tug his briefs down till his knees and his hard cock pokes your inner thigh, until the tip of his cock brushes past your lower stomach. His hands are back on you, holding your neck to position you better to deepen the kiss; his tongue wriggles its way in your mouth. For the moment it does, you feebly taste the redolence of strawberries and your cum on his tongue. There goes without saying, you still couldn't believe he let you cum on his face.

But who's to judge his preferences? You aren't a saint either. Definitely not.

Moaning into the kiss, you drag your hands up his back and let your fingertip tickle his skin. Breathless, Yunho breaks apart from the warmth of your mouth, missing the way his tongue was shoving down your throat, and uses one of his hands to pump his cock, while his other supports his weight when he places it next to your head. His back arches, his fingers stroking the reddened tip of his cock as bits of precum drips from the slit—he angles his hand in a way to spread his precum along the shaft with the palm of his hand.

"Fuck," he grunts, closing his eyes shut tight and continuing to pump his cock into his hand.

For you, this was definitely a sight more than breathtaking to witness. How often do you see a pretty blue haired man stroke his cock so eagerly for you? It went on to show how sorely he needed you and yearned to fuck your cunt. This only takes you back to the time when he had railed you so good and hard; you knew it he was untamed and being so feral with that huge cock, was indeed going to deliver the best.

You let out a soft whimper, adding in to the gentle sounding moans of his. Insane, absolutely insane. His moans were pretty, just like him and you know you could never get enough of him moaning.

"Take a deep breath for me, princess," he indicates you with a nudge of his head while he opens his eyes to look at you.

Taking a breath, you prepare yourself for his cock. He chuckles at you, admiring your intrepidity as he eases himself into you. Your face contorts in pain, with only his tip submerging in you. Knowing the pain would soon subside into pleasure, however it doesn't. Your brows twitch and your eyes squint tight enough for tears stream down the side of your face; your mouth falls agape, wide to the ache your walls sensing with the stretch.

"Ah—Yunho!" you gasp out loud, breaking out into a yell. "It hurts, stop."

And he stops. With same ease, he guides his cock out of you and cups your face immediately after noticing the tears in your eyes. You flutter your gaze across him, a little blurry but you still discern the concern etched on his face. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, voice gentle and wispy. "Am I hurting you?"

"It just," you hiccup, "it hurts like hell when you..."

"Oh," he trails off, "is it because of last week? I think it is. I was too rough back then, wasn't I?" Sighing, his caresses your cheeks and leans in to kiss a stray drop of your tear away from your lips, "you're not used to such a huge cock, are you? It's fine. I'll have to be more careful with you next time—were you feeling any discomfort after that night?"

"I'm not sure, I felt sore and really raw at that time. Maybe I couldn't decry between vaginal tears and soreness," you mumble, assuring him with a faint smile before continuing, "look, it's not your fault. I failed to identify—"

"God, Angel," he groans, "it's not your fault, and for fucks sake put the blame on me. I should've been gentle with you for the first time. You're not used to it—ugh, never mind, I'll have to get you used to my size otherwise..."

"I'll be fine, stop worrying so much," you cup his face in your palms and reassure him. "Now, can we just...let's just forget about it and focus on making you feel good. It's only fair if I return the favour."

You lick your lips and let your tongue poke out through your lower lip; glancing down at his still hardened cock, you drool and your eyes twinkle with lust. He grabs your chin and forces you to meet his eyes.

"I am not so fond of blow-jobs," he says, smirking and then looking around till his eyes fixate on your chair and study desk. "Get on your feet, I've got a better idea." He then stands up and holds his hand out for you.

"Okay, mister," you roll your eyes and set your wobbly feet down, grabbing his extended hand before pulling you close to his body.

Your naked bodies crash into each other and heat emanates from both of you; his arms wrap around your waist and tug you around. He positions you in front of the chair, and pushes you down by the small of your back to have you leaning over the chair. He's right behind you, situating his cock perfectly against your ass which was raised high in the air.

"Legs apart," he whispers his command too close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Slapping your inner thighs, he establishes a small distance between your legs and slips himself into it, his cock slides easily amid your thighs, a little below your folds. The tip of his cock rubs against your slit, rubbing back and forth—you're driven wild with the sensation, and even more so when his hands grope your thighs from behind. His fingers dig, sink in tight enough for bruises to appear. Again, you looked forward to it, being decorated with his marks. Perfect for a possessive man like him.

"Fuck, this is your idea to make yourself cum?" you dreamily laugh out, throwing your head behind on his chest.

"Your thighs feel godly, princess," he susurrates, licking up the shell of your ear before biting down hard on your earlobe. "Squeeze them."

You do as he says, squeezing your thighs together to feel his cock slip in and out at a steady pace. He bucks his hips a little higher to let himself rub against your slit in long and consistent strokes. This was certainly new to you, yet you were getting stimulated close to your second orgasm. You didn't think you would because this wasn't the same as the time he had actually penetrated you. There's no space for you to complain, you were slipping close into the world of pleasure and sensuality to give a damn about whether his cock was pounding in you or fucking your thighs.

"Fuck, just as I fucking thought—just as I fucking imagined what it would be to fuck your thighs," he whimpers close to your ear and later on you realise he was leaning over to kiss your cheek. "Princess, you've got unquestionably the best thighs to fuck. So thick, so tight—just fucking perfect."

You know he had lost it riding himself in between your thighs but you, on the other hand hadn't quite recovered from your last orgasm yet. Or even figured out how you weren't alerted to your vaginal injuries. It'd be unfair to call them injuries, they were basic nicks in the muscles of your vagina and cervix, from tremendous and tedious sexual activity. Pushing those thoughts to the far corner of your mind, your knuckles turn white while holding onto the chair, you were starting to get hot and bothered—so close to your orgasm again.

His cock thrusted along your cunt, hard and slick with his precum, which supposedly provided enough lubrication for his strokes to be smooth and pleasant. Your skin was covered with it however, and you were resisting to picture how his cum would paint your thighs. Picking up his pace, he thrusts faster yet keeps them long and sharp. Your walls clench around nothing, while your stomach drops to your knees; your legs buckle under you, under the weight of sensory overload his cock was proffering.

He flattens his palms on your thighs and gives you light slaps on either of your thighs, "we need to keep them thick and fleshy like this. I bet others would enjoy fucking them as much as I am right now."

"Hmhm, yeah..." you moan, shutting off your cognitive dissonance and mumbling along with him, "thick for you—thick for Seonghwa—thick for everyone."

"Ah, you're already blabbering bullshit, aren't you?" he titters heartily, pulling his hips back and driving them in sharply. "My cock makes you dumb, doesn't it? Hmm...a pretty little slut like you would be dumb for anyone's cock, isn't it?"

His taunts make you shake your head, lips parting to whimper, "no, fuck, only for you—only for you, Yunho."

"That's what I thought," he gasps, increasing his back and rattling his hips into yours.

His death grip is back on your thighs, his eyes are shut tight as he lurches forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder; sweaty chest presses up against your back, while you hold onto the chair for your dear life and to sedate the tremors his thrusts which caused your body to keel. The same tightness grows heavy in your gut, your spine tingling with how close you were to your second orgasm—your nails scratch off the varnish on the chair, scrapping bits of wood in them as he plunges his cock ruthlessly in between in your thighs. You squeeze them firmly, sensing the knot coming undone in your lower belly.

"Are you going to cum for me, princess?"

You nod your head, closing your eyes shut and leaning back into his touch; the heat creeps up your stomach and in a second's beat, the tension slips into comfort. You're releasing all over his cock, splashing on his and your thighs, a bit on the floor too. This time, you were knocked out for good; this orgasm was far more intense than the last one, far more overpowering too. You're mumbling his name like a chant, while he lets a laugh rumble in his chest.

"Fuck, my princess really made a mess on my cock, and everywhere else." he adds, "now, be a good little whore and help me cum too."

Without any warning, he goes even harder and faster than before, causing your body to convulse to his relentless thrusts. His untamed desire was evident in the way his fingers were bruising your skin, how tightly he was groping your thighs to stable himself from his ever increasing pace of his thrusts. He could go for long, and he does; your brain is turned to a mush in regard to the time or energy—his cock keeps hitting your folds, and the tip keeps abusing your clit.

You were past the point of sanity, breaking apart at the seams with your foul mouth screaming out his name and moaning it as if he was your god—technically, he was starting to show you stars, galaxies and miracles behind your shut eyes. All this from only rubbing himself between your thighs; it makes you wonder how much wilder the sex would get once you get to move in with him. Those ideas are for later, right now, you were vicious with his cock.

"Princess, I'm close. Don't worry—fuck—squeeze them tighter, for me—fucking please," he babbles out in despair, and you clasp your thighs even tighter on his cock.

"Fucking perfect."

He words out in a heavy breath, bucking his hips in your thighs as the tip of his cock remains close by your slit; heaving out, the warmth of his cum coats your folds and your slit. Gradually, he starts pulling back, still letting his cum sputter on your skin before he releases all of him on your ass and back. A few of it streaks down your butt-crack, eventually seeping down your butthole. You're groaning out in pleasure and possibly due to overstimulation. Nonetheless, you were satisfied, more than satisfied to know he had painted your back with his cum.

You're both breathless when he leans away from your shoulder and steps back; his small laugh resonates around you before dissipating into a soft titter.

"Princess, you just fucking know how to take a cock, don't you?" he mumbles in his post-orgasm daze, while grabbing his trousers to pull out his handkerchief. "Well, let's get you cleaned and then we'll take a shower together. We are both...sticky."

"Sounds good to me," you manage to gibber, not sure if it was audible or not. "I could use a hot shower and thorough cleaning after this."

"Hmm, I'll gladly help you clean."

You're too weak to turn around, so he helps you swivel on your feet while he holds your body close to his for support. Lethargic and drained, your eyes were closing themselves involuntarily. It was the lack of sleep—the sleep deprivation was slowly catching up with you.

"Keep your eyes open, princess. I need you here with me, okay?" his voice soothes a nerve in your mind, and you nod, opening your eyes. "Guess I'll have to be quick."

"Of course."

The rest of the evening, basically half-evening-half-night goes by smoothly. You both did take a shower together without engaging in anything and got rid of the sweat and stench of sex—but unfortunately, your room still reeked of sex, sweat and cum. You didn't care. Not particularly when you were dragged out of your dorm room by Yunho, after getting dressed in fresh clothes. You wore a long and oversized hoodie, shaded black and didn't bother wearing shorts or pants underneath as it covered most of your skin. To your surprise, as soon as you had your lip gloss on (because you liked lip gloss more than lipsticks), he had your hands intertwined and he was pulling you out of the door. He was eager for you, and the seemingly harmless arrangement you were about to propose to Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

You would've never guessed that this man drives a red corvette stingray if you hadn't been strapped in the passenger's seat of his car. An innocent looking man like him, driving such a flashy sports car, was indeed a shock to you. Looks can be deceiving, so who really cares? Everything passes by you in a blur when he speeds down the road; eventually, the city lights turn into streaks of neon haze and starbursts, until you're by the complex where his loft was located. He parks his car, and helps you out. Your hand in his, he guides you in and takes you to the loft.

Your heart is in your throat, not because you were back to this place with Yunho by your side but because you were too scared to anticipate Hongjoong's and Seonghwa's judgment on your proposition. This has to go well, and it will. Right? You have Yunho with you. What could possibly go wrong?

Yunho unlocks the door and pushes it to usher you inside. His hand never leaves yours; his grip doesn't loosen up for even a second as his pulling you further up to the living room. You and he had taken off your shoes in a haste and did not bother slipping into the house slippers. However, the commotion of your footsteps and Yunho's constant murmurs of 'it'll be okay', 'they won't bite you' and 'just relax' had gotten certain attention from the people sitting on couch.

You're soon greeted with San and Jongho, especially Jongho who has a twinkling and excited smile carved on his face. Both of them were seated on the couch, San having a laptop perched on his lap while Jongho made his observations on the screen—they were clad in their night clothes, San wearing a pair of black pajamas with white cats all over it and Jongho, a pastel blue pajama set with brown bears on it.

"Angel!!" he glees, catching your glimpse next to Yunho, "what brings you here so late at night?" his tone simmers down to being confused.

San adds, "yeah, it's not our game night tonight."

"Guys, stop pestering her, okay?" Yunho groans, looking around, "where are Hongjoong and Seonghwa?"

"Seonghwa's in the kitchen—"

"What is it Jongho...oh hey, Angel!" Seonghwa interrupts Jongho and quickly turns it into an elated greeting. "Should I be concerned for you to make your appearance this late into the night—can't ignore the fact that Yunho's here too. Are you two eloping?"

He's walking out of the kitchen, draped in a variedly stained apron and a wooden spatula in his hand. He looks gorgeous as usual, covering his white turtleneck and black trousers with a grunge red apron—not only his outfit made you quiver, but his hair was also pushed back and tied in a small ponytail behind. If he looked this alluring even when you move in, then you don't think you'd be able to resist the urge to suck him off every time he appeared in front of you.

Yunho clears his throat, aggressively and it becomes a series of wretched coughs till he's gasping for air. "Don't go too hard on me, Hwa. You know how I am."

"Fuck your preferences, Yun," Seonghwa rolls his eyes, "what is the point in bringing Angel here?"

"Well, I'll let her explain it," Yunho sighs, giving you a nudge of his head.

"Uhh, yeah, I need to talk," you mumble, scratching the back of your neck with your other hand.

Your words alert Jongho and San, and they're saturated completely on you, regardless of a certain video playing on San's laptop. Seonghwa hums along, encouraging you with a nod of his head while biting his lower lip. Yunho only stares at you, keeping a frail smile on his face.

"So, go on."

A coarse yet pitched voice booms through the room, followed by nifty footsteps of the man you had been waiting to come. You assumed he was in his room or something, but not thinking he could be at work. Hongjoong strides in, running one of his hands through his hair and other stuffed in the pocket of his jogger shorts. You watch him adorning a black tank top over his toned chest and nothing else; his complexion was striking but wasn't as pale as Yunho. A pop of melatonin makes his skin a little tanned.

"I suppose, Yunho bringing you here is rather crucial for you." He says, walking over to sit next to Jongho. Spreading his legs apart and relaxing back on the couch, he repeats, "go on, Angel."

You clear your throat, "I—I actually—I actually need a place to stay. My parents—"

"—she's in no condition to pay for her university accommodation, so she's looking for a new place to stay. I asked her to come with me since we have a room to spare," Yunho interjects, his eyes trailing over at Jongho, "you'll have to move back in with Mingi, baby bear. You're understanding enough, right?"

Jongho ponders for a minute before silently nodding, "sure. I don't mind. Angel needs it more than me."

You can't help but crack a smile at him, heart palpitating faster in your chest. Yunho could hear your heartbeat, and he squeezes your hand to ease you out. Seonghwa notices it and smiles to himself, shaking his head at the two of you before excusing himself from the living room and going back into the kitchen.

Hongjoong finds it amusing, his lips twisting in a knowing smirk before he asks you, "that's not the issue, Angel. What I need to know from you is—rather what I'm aching to hear from you is, your riposte to my proposed idea of you..."

"I agree to it," you're too quick to reply, taking the man off guard and others too.

San remains confused because he had no clue what you were talking about. Now that he is here, does it mean he'll also be involved in this reverse harem thing you have going on with others? If San gets involved then would the others be involved too? Of course you're thinking about Wooyoung and Mingi, one is a reputed manwhore and other is a man who resents you. That too for no apparent reason—or for something you don't know.

"You do?" Jongho squeals, questioning you.

"Yeah, I don't mind being your..." you trail off, glazing your eyes over at San.

From the kitchen, you hear thudding of metal dishes and spoons, soon Seonghwa comes rushing out with his wooden spatula.

"She agrees?" he asks, and Yunho nods, "she said she'd need more time to think about it, but I guess..."

"Are you agreeing to it because of your living conditions, Angel?"

There it was, Hongjoong comes straight to point. Even his stare was detrimental for you, and how insanely intense it was to pierce through yours. Hongjoong clearly liked to dominate submissive women like you—he has how own share of kinks and customs he likes to follow in the bedroom. And some of them, might seem too unconventional. You didn't want your mind to stray too far off, but he seemed like the type who definitely delighted himself in playing with chains and cuffs.

"I'm not!" you retort, explaining yourself further, "I gave it some thought and I don't think it's a bad idea."

Your pout melts through the stubborn and ice cold heart of Hongjoong's—for a man with domineering aura, he sure is letting himself submit to you. He doesn't let his stoicism waver on his face, rather his purses his lips together and spreads his legs apart further.

"Don't think it's a bad idea?" he repeats your words in coherence to your judgement, "Angel, we don't want you doing anything you are uncomfortable with. Your consent means a lot to us."

"And you have it," your pout grows, and you vaguely point at Seonghwa and Yunho, "I've already gone to the extreme with him and him."

Hongjoong chuckles, and keeping his lips parted, his canines rest against his lower lip, "we'll add it to the very list of your sex chronicles with us."

Your face heats up and turns red, before you could open your mouth to retaliate, San pipes in, "so, you've discussed this before? She's our new...fucktoy?" he cringes thereafter, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his face in disgust, "with all due respect, let me rephrase, you are our new arrangement to satisfy our sexual desires?"

You nod, your heart hammering in your chest. "Yeah, one and only."

"Are you really sure, Angel?" Jongho wants a confirmation from you and smile at him, wide and bright, wanting to erase his doubts. "Then I guess we no longer have to wait for your answer."

Seonghwa chimes in, "so, when are you moving in?"

"Oh, once this month gets over. There's only a week left anyway," you shrug, smiling a little, "I'll start packing right away."

Yunho hugs you from behind, kissing your neck; first you're caught off guard, second, he's doing this right in front of everyone and third, his scent was driving you crazy.

"I'll help you." He mumbles against your skin.

"Yunho, you know the ground rules," Hongjoong threatens and the man who was sticking to you like glue before, now detaches himself from you in an instant. "So, less P-D-A."

"Ugh, ground rules," Yunho whines, but steals a kiss from your cheek. "I'll go get changed and you are staying over tonight. Let's have dinner together, shall we?"

"Of course!" San sings, "we'll get to know you better too. I bet Wooyoung would be pretty excited to know more about you."

"Speaking of him, where is he?" Hongjoong inquires and Jongho answers, "it's the peak hour, where else would he be?"

Hongjoong nods, getting his answer and Seonghwa sprints back into the kitchen not long before announcing, "we've got enough food for you too, so you're staying here."

You quietly agree to him and swallow thickly, striding over to sit on the lone chair adjacent to the couch. That's when Mingi comes into the room from upstairs, his hair tousled and messy, wearing grey sweatpants and a grunge green graphic sweatshirt. He eyes you as he crosses the living room, glaring at you to set his point through. He didn't want you here. But, he couldn't go against Hongjoong's or Seonghwa's wishes.

"Look who's finally out of their room!" Jongho cheers, laughing and joking around before clearing his throat and informing Mingi, "oh well, guess what, Mingi. I'm shifting myself back into your room. Angel's moving in with us and taking over the spare room."

"What?" Mingi grunts, burning his eyes on you, through you, in all hating your presence in the room altogether.

"Y'all really addicted to this whore's cunt, aren't ya? Keep me out of your fucking deal. I ain't getting involved." 

And that fucking hurt your soul. But you keep quiet and while you're at it, Yunho walks in the heated room—Hongjoong and the others are about to defend you when Yunho does it himself. He adorns a conceited smirk and folds his arms over his chest, they bulge out through his grey hoodie somehow, but your eyes travel down to somewhere where they shouldn't have. His jogger shorts are too thin to show off the outline of his cock, he wasn't hard, but he was huge. Why are you drooling on his cock when you're having trouble in paradise? Not that you hadn't seen his cock before. And you are his damsel in distress.

"That's more for us then, Min." Yunho steps closer to him and gets all in his face,

"If you're not involved in this with us, then it's one less person we'll have to share her with."

M.list ┃ Previous ┃ Next

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez yunho #ateez x reader #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yunho smut

[egipci]

top 5 j/d songs & top 5 j/d fics you'd like to write or that you'd like someone to write

Answering on Friday, so Merry Dadfucker Holidays <3. I already answered top 5 j/d songs, so here’s (some of) what I would like to write (or rather, what I want to find fully formed and ready to post in my drafts) in no particular order:

Mary lives normal au — I've somehow gotten it in my head that even in a completely normal world where Mary doesn't die j/d would be possible. This relies on Mary's characterization from later seasons as pretty emotionally withdrawn, her keeping secrets, etc. , and what we know about her and John's less-than-perfect marriage (potentially leading to John's affair with Kate). I could see in this world how, without the obligation to care for Sam, Dean and Sam end up somewhere like they are in 2x20, or possibly closer, but nothing like they eventually become in canon. The John/Dean side of things though would be pretty unchanged in its intensity— Dean would become elektral over time, providing John that emotional support to fill in Mary's place, and John, without the anxieties associated with hunting, would be much mellower in some respects (though of course he wouldn't be John without giving Dean approval-and-masculinity related issues). In a way it would be much more sinister than canon, real family horror shit-- but my guiding principle is always that what little joy is in John's life revolves entirely around his children and Dean in particular.

Alpha!John/Alpha!Dean --- this is like super niche and hyper-specific and completely flouts the purpose of a/b/o and the place Dean usually occupies in it ---- but I'm so so intrigued by alpha!John/alpha!Dean! I must have read fewer than 5 a/b/o fics total in any fandom and it's generally not my jam. I think it does away with the thing that makes gay sex interesting, namely that its teleology is pleasure in and of itself. (This is of course also possible in straight non-reproductive sex, but reproduction always looms as its true purpose, even if undesirable, I think). What a/b/o does, in a way, is create a biological imperative to have sex that is functionally identical to straight sex. Which, you know, is fine, though not super interesting to me (straight sex is obviously sexy and interesting, because I find women sexy and interesting — and that’s what genderswap is for). What's super compelling to me is alpha!Dean, who does have all the pseudo-animalistic impulses and instincts involved with being an alpha, but also the desire to submit to his dad, to be fucked by his dad, to be his dad’s omega, whatever you want to call it. That conflict between hard-wired teleology and desire is really fascinating in a world where sexual roles are very rigid, I find. Like, what do you do if you want to be fucked but your body is unfuckable for whatever reason? And on the other end of that, I'm also super interested in John's scruples about violating Dean's body when he has obligations to raise an alpha, etc. etc. In a way this just compounds the anxieties re:masculinity already present in their normal canon dynamics + knots and rough snarly sex or whatever.

Fuck-or-Die/truth curse --- Dean has to be fucked or he dies. Of course the curse can only be broken when a certain person fucks him. Of course Dean doesn't even know who the fucker must be, because of course Dean is not in love with anyone and is just a normal guy. Of course the fucker has to be Dad. Of course Dad would never fuck Dean and would just leave him to die, so why even bother saying it. Except, as it turns out, Dad would fuck the shit out of him without even fully figuring out how the curse works. Of course. (The shape of this is super vague, though I think the conceit has to be that the curse is mostly about humiliation, which begins with recognition and admission of feelings, and then I suppose reciprocation would come in — the trouble is John would of course fuck Dean to save his life, he would die to save Dean’s life — that’s canon — but how does that happen at a pre-canon point such that it doesn’t become its own canon-divergent thing? And how would that square with Dean’s irrational Dad-related opinions in s3, for example?)

Heaven reunion --- sometime in the distant future, after Sam gets there, they finally go visit Mom and Dad. Dean and Dad do normal father and son things like go on long drives, fix cars, go fishing while not talking about whatever the fuck was going on since Dean turned sixteen (which is decidedly incestuous, though not necessarily physically consummated). Is reconciliation possible? Is a normal relationship possible? First time in a long time? What happens if they relapse into weird shit while John is committed to living with Mary as his heaven-life partner? etc. etc.

John/Deanna first time --- I've said this before but Sharon Olds's "Reading You" is one of my favorite j/d poems. The lines "cock promised and never given/ that I would strip my skin for" capture this forever incurable unrequited longing Dean feels for his father -- but what happens when the cock is finally given? More and more I find myself uninvested in the question of consent and the centrality it seems to occupy when it comes to j/d. Rather I'm more concerned with the ways consensual sex can be terrible and traumatizing and ruinous (even if also pleasurable and physically fulfilling). So, that would be that story.

Bonus: and this is less a fic and more just a specific thing I want to see, which is really possible in all of the scenarios above-- I need John to fist Dean and make him piss himself :) (Deanna gets two fists because more holes obviously <3). This is one of those things that is so intuitively possible and plausible for this ship and at the same time involves so much intricate politics that I think it would be hard to pull off in a canon-feeling way. Yet I think about it daily.

Anyway--- this is an open call for anyone who wants to chat about these weird notions or tinker at them in fic form or just nag me into writing them or whatever. My inbox and dm's are open.

#also honorable mention to john/dean/jo #my desire to write them is ever-present #one day #john/dean #also excuse the pretty cisnormative a/b/o discussion #these are simply the iterations I'm most interested in #dadfucker friday #asks

[jessiethewitchzard]

like, fuck, I wish the shape of my body mattered, but I don't want it to matter. because if it does matter, then what does that say about me now, but if it doesn't matter, then why am I doing this whole transgender thing?

Just, for me? because I want to? For my own happiness? Is that enough? That has to be enough, right?

And, like, I've never HAD boobs, maybe I'm just hyping myself up over nothing and they won't actually solve all my problems? But of course they're not gonna solve ALL my problems that would be ridiculous. But I still just... I can't even put words on it. I just. I'm supposed to have boobs. Or, I'm surprised I don't have boobs. Or... I;m jealous of people who have boobs. Or, like, It feels like bullshit that I didn't even get asked whether I wanted boobs. But, like, none of that even makes any sense. You know what I mean.

Like, surely it's better to learn to love the body I HAVE than to try and change it into something else that I've never actually experienced. But, like, I'm so committed to going to all this trouble to become something new and different. I know I want this. But, like, I don't WHY I want it. Like, am I running from who I am now? Am I running towards something? I swear to god I've deconstructed every gender role I can find in here and just about the only thing left is, like, I think I want to have boobs, and not be assumed to be dangerous by default? But, like, as a trans woman, I'll just be assumed dangerous in a whole different way maybe? Like, fuck, I'm just throwing away all this privilege I could have, or something. But cis dudes don't worry about that shit. If I was cis, this wouldn't even be on my mind. And I think I want to get better at emotions and relationships, but, like, that's not a gender thing, I don't think, except it kind of is because like, all the women I look up to seem to understand how to formulate emotions more complex than 'happy' or "sad" or whatever, and there sure seem to be a lot of men who don't have that figured out, but like, there's men out there who DO understand their own emotions, but I don't think I want to be one? But I don't know if maybe that's about the emotions or the gender or both? It's not like calling myself a girl will immediately give me a better understanding of emotions or some shit, but, like, it.... feels connected somehow? Maybe the cause and effect is backwards. Maybe "I'm a girl" is an emotion I have and paying attention to it is good practice for being aware of other emotions. I don't know. Maybe if I understood my own emotions already this wouldn't be such a fucking problem! I don't want to let myself doubt myself, because that way leads to cross examining my every thought until I get into, like, solipsism and infinite recursion and is no use to anyone, but, like, I so wish I had something external and undeniable to point to and say "this is why I'm transgender. this is how I know, look at this thing, you can see it's proof that I'm a women."

But, like, doubting myself is how I got here. I didn't start out knowing I was trans. I had to say "wait a minute something's not right"

Like, am I just some kind of pervert obsessing over boobs or over femininity or over trans women or something? I don't *think* so. I don't feel like a pervert. But, like, fuck I don't even have any signposts. Feels like I'm forging my own trail and I have no idea if I'm going in the right direction. Cis people don't seem to worry about their anatomy this much. Maybe it's like someone said about, like, shoes that don't fit. You just don't notice them when they fit fine.

but, like a rock in your shoe is one thing. You can take a rock out of your shoe. gender is big and complex and abstract and, like, I think maybe I'm worrying about anatomy right now because if I so much as *look* at any of the socially constructed elements of gender I will explode. "growing a pair of boobs" is a concrete, measurable goal. fucking, like, "feminine mannerisms" or "passing" or whatever is just, like, so many layers of complexity wrapped in misinformation wrapped in a billion complex social expectations, and half of them are bullshit, and the other half are meaningless, and, like I don't want to larp someone else's life or their expectations about how other people should live. I want to live my own life. Except I've never done that before. just changing my name and taking hormones won't suddenly make me a more outgoing person, will it? I'll still be a weird asocial loser who posts on the internet rather than fucking engaging with my life.

But maybe, once I get the rock out of my shoe, that will all come naturally? I hope? I hope so much that it hurts.

#aj oc #gender #trans #dysphoria

[needleandhammer]

Prism

Pairing: Robert Pronge x Reader; featuring Jake Jensen

Warnings: 18+ only, dark fic, non-con touch, kidnapping, it's Freezy so yeah

Notes: Happy spooky season! I cannot believe the writers I am following have led me onto the Freezy Train 😳

For a year, you worked alongside Jake. He came through your office suite to set up new computers one morning. Designated the unofficial tech responder, you reached out to him often, asked questions politely and endlessly until he resigned himself to visiting your office multiple times per week. Somehow, the two of you ended up having lunch together as he listened to you grumble about coworkers adverse to seeking technological solutions on their own. Then going to happy hour together. Then texting each other; Jake followed your lead until the two of you could speak in memes and emojis.

Your friend abruptly left his job a few months ago. With no response to your text messages, you swallowed down the disappointment of losing touch with a friend when adulting kept your circle so small already. You only hoped he was okay.

Now, after a late night at the office, your coworker Carter lies unconscious in your peripheral. The person responsible for knocking out Carter stalks toward you. You’re scrambling around your desk trying to keep distance between him and you, this stranger with scraggly hair hanging over a pair of thick spectacles.

You’re so startled, mind trying to salvage some kind of escape plan that you haven’t even tried yelling for help. You hurl a solid glass paperweight at him. Air rushes up your throat – a scream working its way out when you see him dodge and strike forward at you. His hands circle your wrist, you’re yanked against him and a painful blow to the base of your neck sends you sinking into blackness.

---

You wake with a start. Where are you?

Your hands roam, grasping lightly across your body in search of any new injuries while you breathe past the lingering pain at the back of your head. At least it wasn’t bleeding. Assured that you were able to stand and move with relative ease, you’re on your feet and tiptoeing to the door of the bedroom. Your shoes are gone, dammit.

You swallow hard, breathing deep against grogginess and the aching pulse at the base of your skull. That fucker isn’t here so you need to act.

Go out that door.

Wait. You need something. A weapon. Anything.

A shaky breath forces your stark fear at bay as you look around the room. You make it to the open closet door.

A pink color halts you physically and mentally. Pink. You collapse to your knees and grasp at the cotton fabric. The word printed on the pink shirt triggers a breathless sob that you can’t control.

Petunias

Oh gods, did this deranged man kidnap Jake too? What can he possibly want with you and your friend? Is Jake in some kind of trouble? Questions bombard your mind, tangling into nothing that makes sense. Your head aches. Your limbs feel weak. Has it been long enough that your body has weakened from lack of nourishment?

Beneath another shirt, you discover a scraggly object. It’s chestnut colored, wavy strands that sends a creeping shivering down your spine. You quickly drop the Petunias t-shirt over it, as if to hide some vile creature from sight, and peer around the room again.

Damn it. No light décor or metal objects you can arm yourself with. You’ll have to be quick.

The door gives a creak when you swing it open, revealing a small galley kitchen.

Your heart skips – dread douses you – you freeze when you see the figure standing opposite you at the far end of this small building. He turns, arms falling from the curtained window, to look at you.

You reel backward; your hands reach and claw for something, anything that might help you in this horrible circumstance.

Right back where you started. You made it barely a foot out of your prison.

Your captor descends upon you. You shriek, push and shove against him but his weight follows you, presses you down on the bed.

His palm stifles your cries while he easily restrains you.

“Awake are we?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to hear his voice. You close your eyes. You don’t want to look at him – afraid that your eyes are deceiving you.

He tsks. “Don’t be a brat. We can make this part quick.”

Growling, you shake his hand away and snap at him. “What the fuck are you talking about? Let me go.”

He scoffs at the additional impolite names you call him.

Panting, you glare at him. “What do you want?”

“You gonna play nice?”

You try to headbutt him.

He sighs in irritation.

Your wrists are snuggly wrapped and tied to one bed post. You lean away from him as much as possible where you sit on a corner of the mattress, cutting him with a glare.

He still hasn’t answered you. That cold dread weighs down in your gut as you force another question out.

“What did you do to Jake?”

“Jake?” His smile grows.

“Don’t play with me! That’s his shirt. He – he has a family. His sister and niece, they’re…” Your words die on your lips as he starts laughing.

“Oh, sugar,” he says with a fond look your way. “Time to break the bad news to you. Your buddy Jake is…Well, you wanna take a guess?”

“You hurt him?”

The cold smile does not waver. You swallow down the lump in your throat. You already know the answer.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hanging,” he purrs at you, waiting for your next guess.

You’re not ready to accept it, despite the tangible evidence in front of you. Despite the bright t-shirt lying in the closet. Covering the brunette wig. It can’t be true.

This man’s face, his nose, his lips. You feel like you’re going mad as you keep being pulled back to those blue eyes. The glasses are gone; you can see his full brows, the aquamarine of his irises. That laugh that sounded wrong, even though the tenor flows through you in familiar waves.

His hair is now a natural deep brown. It's shorter, lacking the gel that previously held it up in blonde spikes. The wig must have just been a precaution for when he showed up at your office. And his facial hair is grown out more evenly and that alone could have transformed the man you thought you knew.

He disappeared months ago.

You study his eyes – you know their exact color – and recognize the mirth glinting beneath dark lashes. But your heart starts racing when his signature crooked smile doesn’t appear. Instead, a hard smirk twists his face into a stranger.

“Jake…” Maybe you hope invoking his name as you know it will make this all go away - will make the world make sense again. Maybe you want to cling to an impossible salvation.

He scoffs softly, a quiet murmur of your name on his lips, almost remorseful. Almost.

“The name’s Robert.”

Gone is the awkward, clumsy colleague you had grown close to. The man you formed a slow companionship with during late office hours sharing fast food while ranting about administration or complaining about the local asshole that stood at the corner of your block shouting right-wing rhetoric to people trying to get to work.

Gone is Jake Jensen, the cute nerd you called friend.

Robert Pronge closes in, looms before you. His fingers skim your jawline before he grips your face tight, deliberate.

“I couldn’t leave you behind,” he says, dipping even closer so his lips graze your cheek. You grow stiff at the gentle affection. His grip loosens enough that you can drop your gaze.

“I…d-don’t know you.” You don’t know this man. “I don’t.”

Robert watches as you press your forehead to your hands. He supposes it’s normal - you haven’t arrived at acceptance of reality yet. Your frame clenches with stress, the physiological response to danger. Robert has witnessed this countless times with countless hits.

A breathy chuckle tickles your skin. He knew you well enough at this point. “You’re a smart one, sugar.”

“No, no, no…”

“And you know now that ole Jake Jensen. Never existed.”

Faced with this man’s remorseless confession, you steel yourself for the inevitable.

“Are you – are you going to kill me?” You raise your eyes. You'll look at this man's face one last time, you won't be deceived in your final moments.

That dark chuckle returns.

“You think I risked showing up in town just for a quick kill?"

He cages you in, enclosing you between arms thick with muscle.

"No, sugar. Wouldn’t wanna waste a sweet thing like you.”

His mouth is on yours and for several seconds, the heated, hungry pressure stuns you. Confuses you. You squawk at the sensation of him probing for a deeper taste, and start twisting out of his hold.

Strong fingers tighten in your hair and make you whimper in pain, stilling enough for his tongue to delve into your mouth.

A quiet moan of satisfaction rumbles through Robert when he accesses the hot taste of you for the first time.

Robert decided long ago. Once his mask is peeled back – that blonde, chirpy mask – he’s taking you as his. And he’ll make sure you get to know the real him intimately.

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

A/N: Hurrah! I have been wanting to write a Jekyll and Hyde inspired fic for a while. Tis the season and all, so I present to you all: "Jensen and Pronge." muahahaha. I am trying to plan this out as a multipart fic. 😏 I'm gonna try to make this soft!dark bc that's the kind of shit I'm into.

#robert pronge x reader #dark!fic #non con #tw noncon

[mearcatsreturns]

Okay, so you KNOW I'm now inevitably forced to ask for the actual fic prompt of Ivan trying to give his boss romantic advice, casual-like. (No need to confine yourself to 100 words. I mean what.)

I thought I could just write a thousand words of jokes, but then all these fools came and had the audacity to put feelings up in here. *Ivan voice* Disgusting.

Initially I was going to have this all as one chapter, but it was getting crazy long and I wanted to publish it tonight, so you get chapter 1 of 2, with the rest to follow in the next day or two.

Without further ado, Ivan, Interrupted:

Looking back, he should have seen the signs. The Sun Summoner is trouble and has been from day one.

He called that one, at least.

It’s not his fault. How is he supposed to recognize the stupidity of heterosexuals? He and Fedyor fell in love as young teens and haven’t parted in anger since. They look out for each other and try to spoil each other in all the small ways the other enjoys.

The General and Alina Starkov are a different story.

&&&

Ivan is there when the oprichniki drag Alina into General Kirigan’s tent in Kribirsk. She looks all for the world like the otkazat’sya he’s fought near the border of Shu Han. He can’t hold it against her, though; he knows better than anyone that appearances can deceive.

What he can hold against her is her denial. Even after twice showing that she can indeed summon sunlight, the little fool somehow believes she’s not Grisha. General Kirigan, a human amplifier and probably the most powerful Grisha on the planet, touches her and confirms it, and she still clings to her past. Ivan can’t understand why someone would want to deny something so intrinsic.

More worryingly, he sees his commander’s face as he tries to figure out the Starkov girl. It’s not a look he’s ever seen on Kirigan’s face, and it fills him with dread. The bemusement at her reply to his questioning about what she is turns to something...joyous and darkly yearning, in the General’s understated way.

People consider Ivan stoic and difficult to read, but he learned from the best, and his boss is the best.

Ivan is very discomfited to see Kirigan showing signs of experiencing emotions.

&&&

His unease only grows when Kirigan commands him and Fedyor to escort the Sun Summoner to Os Alta.

“Ivan, I need you and Fedyor to accompany Miss Starkov to the Little Palace. Make haste, and use all your formidable talents to keep harm from coming to her.”

“But the mission to West Ravka—”

“Will have to wait. Everyone in a twenty-mile radius saw her light show, and that may well include some of Ravka’s enemies. She—this—is more important than anybody knows. Keep her safe, and I’ll keep you and Fedyor off the front lines for six months.”

Ivan clears his throat.

“Yes?” Kirigan asks with a lift of his brow.

“Will you be staying, or do you need me to send word ahead that you’ll be arriving as well, sir?”

The General’s face smooths into its usual mask of power and calm. “No, I imagine I may well arrive before you all, as you’ll be taking my carriage.”

“As you say, General.”

Kirigan dismisses him, and he stomps off to find Fedyor so they can leave posthaste.

Ivan’s exasperation only grows when the Starkov tries, of all things, to stay and find some tracker friend of hers, tries to deny who she is. She even questions the General’s judgment, something not even Ivan dares to do.

(Privately, he agrees that this whole endeavor is a mistake. Alina Starkov is trouble, and he has an uncomfortable feeling that all their lives are about to change in ways no one can predict).

He hauls her into the carriage, plopping her on the seat across from the one he shares with Fedyor. Perhaps one of them ought to sit next to her to make sure she doesn’t get into any further foolishness, but Ivan’s crabby enough he wants to sit next to his husband.

Once they get out of Kribirsk and on the Vy, she settles down a bit, but she radiates nervous energy and it puts him on edge.

Fedyor, bless him, does his best to put the Sun Summoner at ease. But she’s resentful and afraid, and it irritates Ivan. He knows he should try to be understanding, but with all the fear and resentment he’s put up with from the otkazat’sya—his own family, even—he struggles to find the patience to explain why she should trust in the General and the Grisha. Nonetheless, he tries to soothe her the only way he knows how: by reminding her of the power she now holds.

Ivan’s thoughts drift to what might await them all in Os Alta, but his ruminations are interrupted by the shouts of the oprichniki warning them of a blockage in the road.

The dread he was feeling dissipates in the face of the familiar. He’s ready to fight against an ambush by Ravka’s enemies. He’s not ready to confront the existential questions Alina Starkov brings.

And fighting side-by-side with Fedyor never grows old. His blood sings, his heart pounds with the fierce excitement of a fight with his beloved at his side.

The fucking Fjerdans. Ivan hates the drüskelle for their hatred of the Grisha, and that fire burns hotter when Fedyor is hit in the leg. Fear twists in his belly as he examines Fedyor’s wound, though he claims it’s fine. Ivan, the most feared heartrender in Ravka, can’t concentrate enough to tell how many their enemies number, so he delegates it to Katya. He remembers the Summoner in the carriage, and issues a command for one of the other Grisha to protect her, but the screams fade into the background of his mind as he does his best to heal Fedyor.

Then he senses the shadows that accompany Kirigan—the reason the people mutter in fear, call him the Darkling—and the Fjerdans melt back into the wood. Shame mixes with his fear for Fedyor, and Ivan swears to himself when, after a few moments he hears the General speak to one of the Etherealki who’ve made it back to the carriage.

“Tend to the wounded. Then tell Ivan to make sure everyone gets back to Little Palace as quickly as possible and report to me. I’ll be waiting.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shit. He had one job, and she’s now riding off in the General’s arms.

Alina Starkov is definitely trouble.

&&&

They finally arrive back at the Little Palace late that night. Once everyone, the Grisha and the horses, are all seen to, Ivan makes his way to General Kirigan’s rooms. The oprichniki guarding the door nod at him and make way for him to knock. The General calls out in that even tone of his for Ivan to enter. He does so, anxiety and defiance mixing in his chest.

Nonetheless, Ivan is deferential. “Sir.”

Those dark eyes sweep over him from head to toe, and where there’s normally amusement or quiet affability, he’s unreadable as he is when meeting with the tsar and tsaritsa. “I see you’ve made it back. Are you well?”

“Yes, sir.” Ivan begins to sweat under the woollen collar of his kefta.

“And Fedyor?”

“Much better. He’s recovering.”

“Good,” the General says, pausing for a long, uncomfortable moment before continuing, “now, perhaps you could explain why you disregarded my clear, express orders to guard Alina.”

Alina, he notes. Not “Miss Starkov” or “the Sun Summoner.”

Ivan’s jaw tenses. “My apologies, moi soverennyi. Fedyor was shot while we were attempting to protect the carriage. I thought we’d be better able to protect her with both our powers.”

The Darkling—for that’s who he is at this moment—turns to face the windows. It’s black as pitch outside, but it wouldn’t surprise Ivan if Kirigan could see through the shadows of the night. “I don’t want excuses, Ivan. Had I not been nearby, Alina would have been lost, and Ravka would have lost its greatest hope in centuries.”

Ivan waits, knowing there’s little he can say.

Kirigan turns back. “See that it doesn’t happen again, or I will see to it that you and Fedyor are put on different assignments for the foreseeable future.”

Anger rises in his throat, but Ivan stomps it down. It will do him no favors to argue. The only thing he can do is go to bed, hold Fedyor close, and hope things settle soon. “Yes, General.”

&&&

The next day, a contingent of the Grisha accompany General Kirigan and Alina to the Big Palace. Ivan is used to walking by the General’s side, but Alina is there instead. With Fedyor still recovering in their rooms under the care of the healers, Ivan is alone, distant from the group. He feels a pang of melancholy so fierce it threatens to overwhelm him.

The Sun Summoner looks much better today than she had when he last saw her, and it seems Kirigan thinks so too. After he greets the King and Queen, he can hardly take his eyes off the girl, that same awed, wondering look in his eyes again.

Through the shadows his boss conjures, Ivan sees the way he looks at her, the way he leans over to whisper in his ear, the gesture nearly a caress. The Summoner lights up the darkness, and Ivan can’t take his eyes off the two of them. Alina Starkov smiles at Kirigan, and instead of the polite, unknowable smile he’d normally return to a courtier or even one of his rare mistresses, Kirigan looks back at her like she’s his every dream come true.

After the display is over, the King tries to bumble his way through negotiating over Alina’s training. And in front of the entire court and a good number of the Grisha,the General claims Alina. She will stay in the Little Palace with him, Kirigan states, his tone brooking no argument, not even from the sovereign ruler of Ravka.

Kirigan takes Alina’s hand and leads her away from the throne, and the two pause to speak in quiet tones. Ivan can’t hear them, but Alina’s eyes glow with admiration and the General is looking back at her with...warmth.

It’s not right, Ivan thinks, even as the General departs and the Grisha welcome Alina. This situation is getting more and more troublesome.

&&&

When Ivan arrives back in their room, he’s relieved to see Fedyor awake, though he’s lying in bed with a book. Fedyor sets the book on the bedside table and smiles at him, and Ivan feels some of the tension in his shoulders melt away.

“Why so grumpy, my love?”

“Not grumpy, Fedya. Worried.” He takes off his boots, middle of the day be damned, and climbs into the bed next to his husband.

Fedyor opens his arms, and Ivan goes to him, snuggling in and leaning his head against his shoulder. “About what, Vanya?”

He shrugs as best as he can while in his favorite person’s embrace. “The Sun Summoner is dangerous.”

“So are all of us Grisha, and even the otkazat’sya with training.”

“Not like that. I mean...I-I think General Kirigan has feelings.”

Fedyor had been running his hand through Ivan’s hair, but he pauses. “In general? Or for Alina?”

“For Alina. Fedyor, it was very strange. He looked warm and like he wanted to kiss her, in front of all those people. And then he held her hand.” The Darkling has had lovers, and Ivan is very aware of this, but he’s never seen him act this way around any of them.

With a huff that might be a laugh, Fedyor says, “He deserves a chance at love, too, especially after he’s been so good to us. He tried to help us when we were younger and more foolish.”

That’s true; Kirigan has been nothing but supportive of them when not everyone else has. He even tried to advise Ivan when he was sorting out his feelings for Fedya more than a decade ago. It hadn’t been good advice, but an attempt had been made, at least.

“He seems...lonely,” Fedyor continues.

Ivan nods. “There is no one like him, no one at his level, so who could stand beside him?”

“Maybe Alina.”

Fedyor seems to like the girl, but Ivan isn’t convinced. Is she strong enough to stand next to their leader who has done so much for not just the Grisha, but for Ivan and his beloved?

&&&

The next day, Ivan joins the rest of the Grisha for dinner. Kirigan is off doing something statecrafty and Ivan has the place of honor at his boss’ right hand, so he is ostensibly in charge of the gathering in the General’s absence.

Except he knows Alina was given the choice to sit in Kirigan’s seat in his absence, or to sit at his side were he here. Instead, the girl chose to sit with the other Etherealki. She’s there laughing with Marie and Nadia, indulging in this opulent meal provided for the Sun Summoner, because apparently their usual hearty peasant fare wasn’t good enough.

Resentment curdles in his stomach as he reads out the casualty list, staring down Alina the entire time. She looks stricken, but her concern seems to be more for the otkazat’sya than her fellow Grisha.

Something in him snaps. “Why are you here eating figs? Hmm? You should be training every waking moment to tear down the Fold.”

But when he sees her face, hurt and downcast, he feels a pang of regret for how he handled this.

Kirigan will not be pleased.

&&&

It turns out that Fedyor isn’t pleased either. He had accompanied the General to the dinner he’d gone to, as Fedyor is far more diplomatic than most of the senior Grisha. It’s because of that diplomacy and open friendliness that it takes him less than three hours to hear about Ivan’s outburst.

Ivan is sitting in his chair in front of the fire, doing his best to wind down after the day. Fedyor enters the room, closing the door behind him.

“How was dinner and politics?”

Fedyor scowls at him, and his heart sinks. “Don’t try to be cute and solicitous. I heard about what you did to that poor girl. Badly done, Vanya, badly done.”

“Can we go back to the part about me being cute, please?” Ivan rubs his hands over his face. He and Fedyor rarely disagree, so when they do…

“No. Alina Starkov just found out days ago she’s Grisha, and she’s been pulled away from the only life she’s known, from her friends and comrades. She’s fended off the volcra, almost been murdered by the drüskelle, and has had to get used to a new training regimen for skills she barely knew she had, to say nothing of the high stakes of her every move now.”

“She’s an orphan of Keramzin. How is this not better than anything she’s ever known?”

Fedyor stops pacing for a moment. “Ivan, that’s why we should be kind. She’s never known the love of a family beyond that of the First Army. And you know what they whisper about the Grisha. We were children when we got here, and our families sent us here out of love. It was easier for us to adjust. She’s grown up her whole life hearing the lies most of the otkazat’sya believe about us. She needs time and understanding.”

“But we don’t have that much time. Zlatan is agitating in West Ravka, Fjerda is worse than ever, and Shu Han is causing as many problems as ever. Why can’t she see that unless she is at her best and soon, Ravka is in danger? The Grisha are in danger?” Ivan is furious, but more than that, he’s exhausted.

At that, Fedyor softens. “Ah, my love. You carry a heavy burden. But she’ll have to bear an even heavier one soon,” he says, coming over and placing a warm hand on Ivan’s shoulder.

Ivan reaches up, placing his hand over Fedyor’s. “I just want her to be ready.”

“She will be.”

With a sigh, Ivan pulls Fedyor into his lap, nuzzling his neck. He’s ready to make up.

“Ivan?”

“Hmm?”

“You do realize that people also have to eat in order to be able to train, don’t you?”

&&&

He knows he should, but Ivan can’t bring himself to apologize to Alina. He does try, however, to be more understanding of the enormity of what she faces, the pressure on her to succeed. He tries to be kinder, less abrupt. But he can’t change who he is.

Fortunately, General Kirigan seems more amused than anything else at Ivan’s dinner outburst. It’s a week or so later, and Kirigan is ready to dismiss Ivan for his next couple of days off. “I would tell you to enjoy your time with Fedyor, but maybe you’ll be training instead, since that’s apparently what we all must be doing every waking moment.”

Ivan shoots him a panicked look, but calms down when he catches the amusement in the General’s eyes.

“Indeed. We will train ceaselessly and closely, moi soverennyi.” Somehow, he manages to keep a straight face.

Kirigan just snorts, and Ivan is extremely disgruntled when he mutters under his breath about needing some of that kind of training of his own.

#sab #sab ff #shadow and bone #heartrender husbands #darklina #darklinadaily #darklinaweek2021 #ivan #fedyor kaminsky #the darkling #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #alina starkov #ivan x fedyor #to be clear I don't think Alina or the Darkling or straight #but I think Ivan thinks they are #my fanfic #missing moments

[mrspanky]

I'm not really sure how long these are meant to be. "Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma".

Trauma Bonding, (a Jason Todd x Reader)

Warnings: Language.

Genre: Fluff/angst/comedy/romance

Authors note: This prompt is perfect, thank you @aethers-stuff ! Sorry it took me so long to write! I hope you like it. ♡(: _______________________________________________

Dick watched you two from the kitchen.

Jason was seated on one end of his livingroom couch and you on the other. You were talking loudly, gesturing with your hands so much that you looked like Italians at a family gathering. You were both exceptionally expressive and extroverted people on your own, so when you got together, the room's volume was always raised a noticeable few notches.

It was endearing, but a real headache when it went on for too long.

Dick massaged his temple. An extrovert himself, he felt the need to jump into the conversation, but he knew better. You and Jason would simply not shut up long enough for him to get a word in when you were both really on a roll, and Dick didn't feel like expelling that much energy. Plus, he was curious to see where this would end.

“...That’s ridiculous Jason”.

You crossed your arms.

“There is no way in hell you're dying your white streak black.”

He raised his hand from the couch armrest in exasperation.

“I wasn't even asking you.”

You arched an eyebrow.

“You should've been. The white streak stays. It's your trademark. If you're concerned about me being right, I dare you to ask everyone to vote.”

“Hon, I am not in the practice of asking people if I can or can't do things.”

“Luckily, you never ask me my opinion so you don't have to worry about breaking your pattern just yet.”

“...You never keep it to yourself, so why would I even bother”.

Dick shook his head. You were like an old, emotionally constipated couple and it was amusing to observe.

“Just kiss already”, he said under his breath.

You turned your head towards the kitchen, hearing him faintly, but almost unintelligibly.

“Dick, did you say something? Sorry, we're arguing here, I hope we're not too obnoxious”.

“Hey don’t throw me under the bus with you, I was just trying to have a moment of quiet meaningless thought when you started playing hair cop,” Jason quipped.

“Hush.”

“Right back at you”.

“-Both of you shut up for a minute. I didn't say anything”.

Dick rolled his eyes.

“However, we do have patrol in an hour, and Bruce sent me some weird instructions.”

“Weird how?”

You tilted your head in curiosity.

Jason glanced at you, and huffed a little. He couldn't help himself. Despite himself, he found you really endearing. Especially in moments like this when your lips were pouted in confusion and....”.

Dick snapped Jason out of his brain fog.

“Jay. Buddy. Try to pay attention.”

“Wasn't not doing that,” he grumbled.

“Then what did I just say.”

The two brothers shared a childish battle of glares.

“...fine, you made your point. I was dreaming about this whisky I saw in the manor the other day”, he lied.

“Ok. Very in character, Jason. Now, the mission is-”

“...looked decadent. It was really old and had this fancy label on it that-”

“...Guys. I can hear you from the other room”, Tim walked in looking miffed.

There was a pause as all three of the human boom-boxes stared blankly at the intruder.

“...you’re a detective, Tim”, Jason deadpanned.

“Ugh, Jason...that’s not the... just shut up.”

Tim pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Did you all get the mission briefing?”

“Somehow, Jason didn't”, Dick fumed.

“Alright, fine. Basically, Jason, you, and Y/n are staying back tonight because you're the only ones who haven't been seen yet in the city, and Bruce wants to save you guys for an undercover mission next week”.

“What?!”

You both looked at each other in disgust.

“I'm not working for the bat anymore!”

“Yeah, and I've never even started to work for him! He can't just expect us to be at his disposal and then bench us!”

“Guys, relax. He's just doing this so you can have a better element of surprise later. You're both really valuable, ” Dick reasoned.

You and Jason paused, your egos begrudgingly satisfied.

“...fine”.

“Fine”.

“Good. Ok. So everyone suit up”, the oldest brother concluded.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason was irritated.

He found you interesting. Really interesting. Usually, he dealt with his fear of vulnerability by acting too unbothered to care, but you intrigued him so much that he struggled to keep his mouth shut around you. He was afraid to get too close to you; he would lose you eventually like everyone else.

But, he knew so little about you, despite all of the banter. A talent you both possessed, was chattering without disclosing any actual information. You had only met each other two months ago, and usually it would take both of you longer to warm up to a new person, but there was just a feeling. You were kindred spirits. He wanted to learn more about you, despite himself.

“So what brought you here”.

“Here as in what brought me to dress up and punch criminals as a nightly routine, or as in what brought me to be in an alliance with Bruce Wayne that I'm now regretting?”

There it was. Those were the kind of responses that made Jason feel just enough on his toes to be uncharacteristically comfortable with you.

“Take your pick I guess.”

“Bruce Wayne it is then. I'm not really a fan of my life story”.

“Ttt, ” Jason laughed, taking a page from his youngest brother’s book.

“I'm kind of an accidental friend of Dick’s. We met first at the Bludhaven police station, I was there for...pfft...I was just there, ” You paused with a laugh.

“He helped me out, and we didn't see each other again until he ended up working with me anonymously for info on a case as Nightwing years later. We both just figured out each other's identities and he brought me on a mission once where I met Bruce. And Bruce is a convincing prick so now here I am, somehow under his command”.

“Sounds about right. So when do we kiss?”

Great. Now he sounded like an asshole.

Jason looked at you, gauging to see what your reaction would be. He’d half said that last part by accident, but now that he’d acted out of impulse he knew he couldn’t take it back.

“-What?”

“When do we kiss? You heard Dick”.

He was really committing to his blunder now.

“Yes, and I ignored him and smoothly got him to change the subject. Besides. You're not my type”, you lied.

Jason was in fact, exactly your type.

“What is your type?”

“Shit”, you thought.

“Hmm. I like people who I can chase that don't actually like me, and then I eventually get to give up. It makes it easier”.

You admitted this in a tongue-in-cheek manner, but you weren't really kidding. Something about Jason’s persistence made you want to open up, despite your usual habitual wall-building.

“You're like a fucking mirror; you know that?” Jason laughed.

He knew you weren’t kidding because he’d said things along those lines millions of times.

“Your point, Mr. Therapist? People hurt people. I kind of prefer to enjoy relationships from a distance at best”.

“Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma”.

“Call it what you will, but it's a good way of not getting even more mentally busted up than an already fucked vigilante”, you grinned.

“Nice.” he smirked.

“You sound as dumb as me”.

“That’s a little low don’t you think? I’m only half as dumb as you at most, but yeah. Fine. We share some things”.

“What’s that supposed to mean Princess,” he smiled.

He felt himself get exited a little. What you had just said made it sound like you felt you two were similar just as he did.

“That I think we’re both stupid people that have really stubborn hearts that get us into trouble”.

Your heart was beating so fast. You hadn’t meant to say that much.

“Now who’s the therapist”, he said in a low voice.

He leaned in closer to you a little, testing the waters to see if you were just being a little cautious, or if you actually weren’t comfortable. He felt like you were just being scared like he always was deep down, but he didn’t want to push you if it was only going to cause you both more pain.

He was a little scared too. You scared him. Not just because you were powerful and beautiful, but because he actually liked you. He wasn’t used to that. But he knew himself, and when Jason Todd does something, he can’t do it half way. If you were in this too, he knew he’d do anything for you, and that was terrifyingly vulnerable.

As he leaned in, your breath caught.

“Fuck”, you thought.

His eyes were stunning.

You hadn’t let yourself notice how much until now.

“Jason…”

“...Todd why are you about to taint Y/n”.

Jason spun around.

“Damian!” you yelled.

The small Wayne was standing in the doorway.

“Shortstack, you are too young to be using a fancy word like taint”, Jason recovered.

Tim and Dick emerged behind Damian in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked.

“Todd was just about to be disgusting with Y/n in front of all of us”, Damian smirked, crossing his arms.

He knew he just set up Dick to take a fit.

The oldest brother was not pleased.

“Jason, really? Damian is right here and you didn’t think to chill?”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“We didn’t do anything Dicky. The kid here is being a drama queen. The only thing he walked in on us doing was some good old fashioned arguing”.

Jason knew he was making himself look like a major...well...dick, but he knew you wouldn’t want to commit to the family knowing about anything that might be going on between you two, however small just yet.

Dick rolled his eyes, and the three brothers walked in the doorway and into the kitchen to get water. You and Jason were always an entertaining spectacle for sure, but patrol was tiring, and they all needed to cool down.

Jason looked back to you. You were looking at your feet with your arms crossed and a barely contained smile on your face.

“The kid has good timing,” he huffed with a laugh.

“Oh fantastic”, you gazed at him, laughing back quietly.

“So, you want to talk some more about trauma?” He asked in a playful, but matter of fact tone.

“Maybe sometime, Red,” you smiled.

You turned and walked away.

“She’s gonna make me work for this”, he thought.

It had been so long since either of you had met your match, and you both were going to thoroughly enjoy this.

#writing requests #dc #jason todd #red hood #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd fic #jason todd funny #jason todd fanfiction #asks #dc ask game #batfam fic #batfam fanfic #jason todd fanfic #red hood fic #red hood funny #red hood fanfic #red hood fluff

[firecoloredwater]

2, 4, 7, 13, 37 for the writer's asks? 💙

<3 <3 <3

Thank you for asking! This uhhh got Long and also rambly, so under a cut.

2: Anything that you’d like to write but feel like you’re unable to?

So many things. For so many reasons.

Often it's just, I could write the thing but I'd have to do A Lot of research and don't have the energy for it. This happens a lot with fanfic ideas, because I barely even know American culture much less any that I haven't lived in.

(This WAS keeping me from writing Naruto fanfic but @denialcity is helping me with Japanese culture so. Blessed Sacrifice AU is being written now anyway! But this happens to me a Lot, even though anime fandoms are the only ones I can think of off the top of my head.)

Or sometimes the fandom is one which Really Cares about canon and getting canon details accurate, while my default approach to canon is that canon is a buffet and I am an extremely picky eater, and I give zero shits about what else is on the buffet or what I'm supposed to do with it. (Or just flat out Canon Can Fight Me.)

So technically I could write the thing but it's easier to just daydream about the ideas to myself than get a bunch of "your idea doesn't work because in this interview fifteen years ago the creators said __ which implies they intended for us to read it as meaning..." comments.

There's also this one idea that started as a short story for a class, and then I wanted to expand it to a novel because I liked the premise. But I had a Lot of trouble figuring out what it was about, and when I did the answer was that it was about having power/privilege and the protagonist learning to not hurt people with it. Specifically with a 'wanting to hurt people does not make you the good guy, ever, no matter what, and if you want to be the good guy anyway you need to keep that impulse under control even when it's really hard' message.

And because of the setup, that would require the protagonist to accidentally cause at least a few gruesome deaths for (insert any minority here) background characters, which would then never really have consequences beyond the character feeling kind of bad about it. And that is just not a thing I'm comfortable writing, so I dropped it even though I liked the original concept.

4: Do you have any OCs? Do you have a story for them?

Many! Both OCs and stories for each. Part of how I develop OCs is throwing them into Lots and Lots of AUs, so by the time an OC is fully developed I can probably ramble though what would happen shoving them in just about any setting/plot/role possible.

(A few of) the most prominent:

Kai: Usually comes from a lower class or somehow otherwise disadvantaged background relative to whatever society she finds herself in. @shipfishwrites called her a canary in the coal mine for social injustice and that's not wrong. She seems like she is almost entirely chill but actually she's just quiet and minding her own business, she has negative chill, she WILL decide that ethics/promises/something require her to jump off a cliff and immediately try to do so without telling anyone. The cliff is not always literal but the metaphorical ones are usually worse. Takes Duty and Honor and Her Word and A Person's Place In Society and similar things very very seriously, usually to her own detriment. Needs to learn that 'that's how it is'/'that's how life works' is not the end of the conversation.

Rekima: Almost always comes from an extremely privileged background. Extremely brilliant and clever, could run a conspiracy and take over the world if he wanted to, but all he actually wants to do is party and gossip. Very into fashion. If in a modern setting he's a theater kid. He doesn't view himself as feminine but knows that a lot of other people view him as feminine because of his fashion and similar interests and underestimate him because of it, which he will use, probably to prank them. Very nice and generous and wants everyone to be happy, but almost completely amoral beneath that.

Moritu: Variable background, but consistently comes from a family that thinks men should be tough and macho, which he is absolutely incapable of being. He's a pacifist and An Artist TM and deeply insecure about not living up to any standard of masculinity ever. If in a modern setting he's emo. (If not he's probably at least 50% emo anyway.) Adores kids and caring for people generally, his ideal best life is basically as a suburban soccer/PTA mom but he has to escape the toxic masculinity before he can realize it.

There's also Taka, Meguru, and Kunimi that I've recently co-developed with @denialcity, who I ADORE (terrible, horrible, no good trash fires that they all are) but do not at all fit my usual OC-making pattern. They have, like, three AUs maybe, usually my characters don't get fully developed until they've been through at least a dozen.

7: Your favourite ao3 tag.

I have NO IDEA, honestly. I mostly search AO3 by wandering the bookmarks of authors whose fic I've enjoyed. I tend to go through character phases, so, that might count?

Probably the most important factor in how much I like a fic is 'how well done is the characterization?' but like, you can't really filter for that with tags very well.

Occasionally I'll look through the soulmates tag because I really like when people do creative things with soulmate tropes, so that might qualify as my favorite by default, but I still skip most soulmate fics.

13: Rate your worldbuilding skills from 1 to 10.

Uhhhhh chaotic? I need a working scale. What are the standards for each number. Am I comparing to other writers or to specfic writers specifically or to Everyone because those all skew very different ways.

I'm pretty good (I think) at coming up with creative/interesting ideas and linking them to each other, but it's very much a chaotic rambling process, and I tend not to get into much practical detail unless I absolutely have to.

So like... 6-7, maybe? 6 with the awareness that if I ever sit down and focus on worldbuilding properly I could kick it up at least a few points? That feels about right.

37: Do you research before writing or while you write? Is it fun or boring for you?

During, or after. My writing includes so many [uhh pick a brand for this] and [whatever year this was] style brackets. I only tend to look things up as I write if the answer affects what I'm writing directly (was the character 2 or 12 when Significant Relevant Historical Event happened? really need to know that before I finish the conversation where they discuss it).

I find research really frustrating, mostly. A lot of the time I'm stuck at that point where I know I need to do research, but I don't know where to look for reliable sources, and often don't know exactly what I should be looking for. I know not to trust google! I know that what Feels Right to me is not a reliable measure of accuracy! I don't know what IS good.

Wikipedia is a decent starting point, if the topic isn't at all political, but often doesn't have the type of information I need, and usually doesn't link to it because why would they cite information they don't include? So that actually goes back to 2 and why 'I would need to research This Whole Culture/career/etc' stops me from writing a lot of things.

If I ever become rich I'm going to start a website and pay experts in every subject I can get a hold of to write articles about daily life in __, how various historical things worked, and debunking common misconceptions about everything. I wish so much that I could just go to a writer info site and look up a collection of articles about food in 1508 England, tagged by class, region, and daily life vs special occasions.

With original stories a lot of the time I try to dodge this by just going full alternate world with no basis in the real one. I can't get the political system wrong if I made it all up myself!

In the past that would just end with me trying to make models of planets and research what determines the shape of tectonic plates so that I can figure out realistic tectonic plate shapes and movement patterns so I can figure out the planet's geography so I can figure out the climates so I can figure out the history and nations so I can figure out the cultures so I can figure out the characters' backstories so I can figure out their motivations so I can figure out the plot. But I have learned better than to attempt that now.

#thiiiis got very rambly sorry #but thank you so much for asking! #I did not expect responses to be honest I figured I was saving it for later #interest is very much appreciated #ask game #writing

[daily-rubbersoul-redux]

Around the same time as Mae Fucking Dying...

"YOU HEARD ME, JACKASS!" Mira retorted, hands on hips, a gesture causing Daito to look and become even MORE confused. Damn authority figures... Like hell this guy was just here for that. What, did he think she was stupid just because she was a kid? Like hell she was! She'd show him! "And even IF that's why your actually here, COP, then I think you'll find that we're MORE than capable of taking care of ourselves! Right Sumi?"

She turned to Sumi for confirmation, only to find that Sumi is Fucking Gone, presumably having booked it as soon as she saw a police officer had shown up. Wonderful.

"Ghhhh... Laurence, back me up!"

She turned to Laurence this time, only to find out that he once again was in Contemplation mode. 'So THIS is where they've been disappearing from.' He thought. 'Interesting...'

Oh for the love of.

Daito meanwhile was simply growing increasingly more confused. "Well, that's good and all, but that doesn't change the fact that it's still dangerous. I'm not saying you're in trouble, just asking that you choose somewhere else to hang out-"

"OH, CAN IT OLD MAN!" Mira shouted, taking a Fight Stance. "That's it, I'm gonna make you beat it."

Daito had no clue what was even happening at this point. Was this normal for teens in this town? He had been told that they were a bit strange, but did this really count? It seemed more like aggressive, really. "Ah, that really isn't necessary, I'm just trying to make sure nothing else bad happens around her-"

He was cut off as Mira Sprang forward and somehow with her 5'3 stature landed a height on this 6'8 man.

Daito didn't even flinch, simply looking even more confused and concerned. "-e. Um. Can I ask you to maybe not punch me? It didn't really hurt, It's just kinda hard to have a conversation like this..."

Mira didn't respond, she just screamed frustrated-ly and, springing back and summoning her stand, rushed forward for another attack.

Cut to 20 minutes later, at the Police Station.

Mira sat in a chair, one hand on her chin and the other holding an icepack to her foot. God dammit- How the HELL was she supposed to know that this guy had CONCRETE PILLARS for SHINS!? Great, and now he was probably going to charge her with assault of some shit... Ugh. And she was so close to being able to afford an apartment too...

She glanced over at Laurence, who was still in Contemplation Mode. "Hey bonehead, WHY DIDN'T YOU HELP ME OUT?"

Laurence's eyes widened, before he glanced around and then looked at Mira "Eh- Wha- Oh, uh- Sorry Mir, I was distracted again, haha..." He rubbed the back of his head.

Mira WANTED to slap him, but she didn't.

Daito re-entered the room, with some unopened bottles of water. "Alright you two, I'm-"

"What, gonna charge us with something? Put us in the slammer for a day? Come at me." Mira sneered.

Daito frowned, looking a bit hurt. "No, I'm going to drive you home-"

"LIKE HELL I'M TELLING YOU WHERE I LIVE!" Mira interrupted again.

Why did this teenager he had just met hate him so much? "....Do you want a water?"

Mira gave a deadpan glare. "No."

"Oh, I'll take one," Laurence said, Taking One. "Thanks!"

Daito nodded, smiling.

"Oh," He said between sips "and you can just drop her off at my place. My Ma 'll get her home." He gave a goofy grin and thumbs up.

"Oh, alright! Thank you!" Daito smiled again.

The drive to Laurence's place was fairly uneventful, except for Mira stewing with rage in the backseat, and a call in on the radio that another kid had been reported missing.

Laurence looked out the window, debating on asking some questions, but...

Nah. He would wait.

#[neon lights] laurence 'jake' cranium #[up down left right] mira terebigĒmu #[neighborhood watch] daito yasai ne #[rebellious musician] sumi yukikara #an rp thread? more likely than you think #and NOW #WE'RE IN IT FOR REAL BAYBE #this is probably like kinda shittly written but it's ok it's just meant to a. establish daito #b. establish mira hating authority figures #and c. laurence :] #heehoo >:]

[fritae]

The Missing Piece - Ch 10

Worries 🌸

gang! au / ceo! au

characters: dabi x f. oc, lov

status: ongoing

read on ao3 here.

I spend hours turning in bed, replaying Dabi's words to me earlier.

He cares about me.

Right?

That's the only way I could interpret what happened. He got angry on my behalf, even though he didn't look it.

My cheeks redden as I recall how warm he was to hold, despite most certainly being the most awkward hugger I've ever met. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to remember what it was like.

It wasn't a short hug...but I wish it was longer.

Snap out of it, I tell myself with a groan.

I'm so touch starved I can't believe a hug from Dabi would make me feel this way.

I jolt in bed when I hear the front door open.

"Aliyah?"

Within moments, my suite mate bursts into my room, jumping onto my bed.

"Who is he?!" She screams with glee. "That's your boss?!"

My heart paced with excitement. "Yeah. Nice, right?"

"Nice?!" She jumps up again. "He's so hot - but something about him -"

She suddenly stops.

"What?" I ask her cautiously.

But after a few moments of consideration, she shrugs. "I don't know, forget it. I feel like I've seen him before."

I shrug. "Might have run into him at a corporate event or something? The company may not be all that but Dabi looks like he's been around."

She nods. "You're right, that's probably it. And oh my god," Her voice picks up, that excitement creeping in again. "Mr. Lane's face! He's so pissed you don't even know, oh my god, he's probably still fuming! He didn't even last for the whole dinner, he called his new secretary and told her to run a background check on Mr. Dabi and the company."

"He's a psycho," I laughed. But then a troubling thought occurred to me. "But he wouldn't do anything to the company, would he?"

Aliyah shrugs. "Beats me. You can never tell with Mr. Lane."

I shake the thought out of my head. Choosing to focus on the good (and the fact that Aliyah is here early for once!), I eagerly share what life has been like for me at the Blaze. I leave out certain details of course, especially those conferencing Dabi and company intel, but I'm overjoyed by Al's interest.

And when we finally say goodnight, hours after we were supposed to, I lay in bed again - already thinking of tomorrow.

- --

"Dabi won't be in today," Tenko tells me in the morning.

I pout.

"Why not?"

He shrugs. "He told me and Jin to put a pause on new intake for the next few days so I don't think there's much to do, either. Honestly, if you want to go home from now, you probably can."

He didn't ask for any updates or give me instructions this morning either. I thought maybe he was waiting for me to come in to let me know what we'd be doing today.

He said he'd see me tomorrow, I remember. I try not to feel disheartened. He's a CEO, after all.

It's just...I was looking forward to seeing him today.

"You gonna go?" Tenko snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Oh," I say apologetically. "Nah, I'm used to being here all day. I'll try to make myself useful somehow."

I leave him and head for Dabi's office and go through his correspondence, rescheduling any meetings he would have had today or tomorrow for later in the week. If he isn't in the office today, he'll likely want to be briefed whenever he comes in. He won't be in the mood for a meeting.

Hours and hours pass as I spend my time overlooking the company employees and making a record of potential clients.

After I finish a few late night phone calls for Dabi and make notes of the most urgent things he should know when he comes in tomirrow, I decide to go find the others.

But when I walk into the lounge, the only ones I find are Atushiro and Toga. They're huddled together on the couch, talking in hushed tones.

It is pretty late at night. Perhaps they went home already.

"Hey guys," I say with a smile, carrying a few sodas with me. Immediately, they sit back and put some distance between them.

"Hey," Toga says. They accept the sodas with a smile.

"What've you been up to?" I ask them. I pop open my can. "It feels like there isn't much to do today."

"Why do you sound upset about that?" Atsuhiro comments with a laugh.

I get flustered at that. "I know, I know. I'm a workaholic. I don't know what to do with my life outside of work."

"Go home!" Toga says with a groan. "You've done more than enough today! Dabi specifically didn't give us work and you're over here doing extra."

I groan. "I don't want to go home though, what would I do?"

They both laugh. "Normal people things! Watch a show, paint your nails, order Chinese - you know, hashtag self care or whatever."

I roll my eyes, stalling for time. I don't know why, I just don't feel like going home just yet.

I put my phone down and lay back on the couch.

"Maybe I'll just stay here."

"Go home!" They shout.

I laugh and put my legs down.

"How come you guys aren't going home?"

The two of them share a look.

"We have things to take care of later tonight." Atsuhiro says.

That makes me sit up. "Ooh what kind of things? For Dabi?"

He nods.

I feel a pang in my chest. Why did he give them something to do and not me?

But they've been here longer, I try to reason with myself. They're friends and partners. He's known them for years. If anything urgent comes up, of course they'd be the ones he reaches out to.

I think quickly. "Is he coming in later or something?"

Toga hits me. "No, he isn't. Are you trying to find an excuse to do more work?"

I shake my head with a laugh, but I secretly feel...disappointed. It's not that I want more work, I just...was hoping to see him. Work just happens to be the only way I can do so.

Of course he isn't coming in later, though. It's already 10pm. Most of the company clocked out hours ago. And he undoubtedly has things to do if he hasn't come in.

He didn't even have time to respond to my text.

"Okay," I sigh in defeat. The two high five each other, and I pout as they lead me downstairs.

"I'll be back tomorrow," I tell them quickly as I leave. "If you guys need anything at all, just shoot me a text!"

"We'll be good, don't worry about us!" They wave.

I shove my hands in my pockets and make my way to the bus stop.

They'd text me, right?

But something dawns on me just before I get to the bus.

I freeze, my fingers digging around.

But there's nothing.

I pat all around me and check my purse for good measure.

"Shit, I forgot my phone!

I quickly run back to the Blaze.

---

I enter the marble doors again, only for some reason there's something different in the air.

As I make my way upstairs, I hear a murmur of activity. There's a frown on my face as I try to figure out what is going on.

I head up to the lounge, but this time it is empty and the lights are all off.

The only sounds come from Dabi's office at the end of the hall.

Is something wrong? I wonder with a frown.

I make my way to his office, my heart pounding in place.

With a single knock, I turn the knob. And my heart falls as I lock eyes with Dabi sitting behind his desk.

Dabi immediately sighs, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. "Shit."

"What's going on here?" I ask.

Standing around him are Tenko, Jin, Toga and Atsuhiro, the last two staring back at me with wide eyes.

No one answers me.

I look from one face to another.

Eventually Dabi looks up at Jin, an unforgiving glare in his eyes. "What the fuck happened to she left?"

Jin shrinks under his gaze. "That's what Toga told me!"

I feel my heart fall. Was he avoiding me?

"Do...you not want me around?" I swallow.

I don't look at him as I ask, afraid of what I might find in his face. So he was. I glance around, hooking my purse on my shoulder and turn around. "Sorry, I just came back because I forgot my phone. I'll- I'll go-"

Dabi pushes his chair back. "Rina, wait-"

But when I look back at him, I gasp.

My hand unconsciously covers my gaping mouth.

"Dabi, you're- you're..."

He's bleeding.

Not a drop or two this time.

But a circle of red adorns his lower left side. He holds a now equally red rag to the area to stop the flow. I look at him in horror but he turns his face away from me.

"Fuck," I hear him mutter through gritted teeth.

"Dabi, what's-" I feel my eyes water.

I immediately run up behind his desk, my hand clutching the one he holds to his wound.

"What's wrong? You're gonna be okay, right? What do I do- we need to take you to a hospital - Toga, help me! You're gonna be okay Dabi, I'm here."

Toga shuffles forward but Dabi glares at her. "I'm not going to a fucking hospital, I'll be fine." I feel bad for the way he yells at her. After all, it was my suggestion. "I just need to stop the bleeding."

I turn back to look at the others, but the lack of shock on their faces stuns me.

"Did you guys know about this?"

Atsuhiro runs his neck and avoids my gaze too. Suddenly the frequent questions about when I'd go home made sense.

"I see." My voice cracking. "Is that why you guys were waiting for me to leave?"

"Well, that NNTV douchebag-"

"Toga!" Dabi growls.

I turn to Dabi, my blood turning to ice. "Does this have something to do with Mr. Lane?"

He ignores me. "Take everyone and leave." He tells Toga. When they don't move immediately, Dabi snaps. "Now."

The team scrambles out the room. If it weren't the circumstance, I'd laugh when Jin stumbled. But as soon as we're alone, I turn back to him and clutch the lapels of his jacket.

"Don't lie to me," I say. "Please Dabi."

The man groans and sits back on his chair, as if there wasn't blood dripping out of his side. I pull up a seat and sit next to him, my hand closing in on his, holding the rag in place.

"We're gonna have issues with Lane," Dabi mutters. "I uh, went to see him today. But...it's like he was expecting me."

"Why would he be expecting you?" My mouth drops. "You mean to tell me Mr. Lane did this to you?"

Dabi sighs.

When he takes to long to reply, I press the rag harder.

"Hey!" He grimaces. "Okay, okay. You know how I told you I have business to take care of on the side?"

"Yes."

"Well. I think he found out a couple things."

I lean in closer. "My friend told me about that! She said he ordered a background check on you, he wanted to know everything."

Dabi shrugs. "Yeah well, if he knows who I am, then he doesn't just have everyday knowledge. He probably deals with shady shit too."

Too?

My heart pounds in fear.

"And who the hell told you to go pay him a visit!" I hit his arm. Dabi immediately groans and I recoil. I cautiously touch his arm. "Sorry."

He shakes his head.

I motion for him to go on as I find a little bowl of water under his desk.

As he talks, I absentmindedly take the rag and rinse it into the bowl. He probably intended to do that himself had I not come in. I squeeze the blood out and just as I am about to press it against his skin, I wince at the sight. The blood was dripping out slowly, meaning the wound wasn't too deep. But that's clearly a stab wound. Dabi got close enough to someone that they were able to pull a knife on him.

What if it had been worse? What if I had lost him today?

"Dabi," I interrupt him. He looks down at me, the blue in his eyes could be green in this light. I softly brush my thumb against the wound. His eyes darken in response, and I feel my heart ache at the way he grabs my hand. "Stop."

"Who told you to go to him, you idiot," I punch his arm again. "What the hell were you thinking."

He grips both my hands now. "I had to send a message."

"What kind of stupid message was worth this?"

"Now he knows not to mess with my people." Dabi replies. My eyes go wide.

I'm part of his people.

The thought brings a blush to my cheeks and I get angry at myself. Look where that got him.

If he is like this after hearing one conversation between me and Mr. Lane...

"Besides..."

I wipe my eyes into my elbow.

"He probably won't be taking any more cars for a while now," Dabi smirks. "If that guy of his didn't pop up out of nowhere.."

He leaves that open ended.

Did Dabi really plan on hurting Mr. Lane?

The thought sends a shudder down my spine.

Just who was Dabi.

What did Mr. Lane find?

"Were you going to..." I whisper. "..you know."

Dabi looks completely nonchalant, as if he had gone to leave Mr. Lane flowers or something.

"I was just gonna scare him." He says, and despite everything, it sounds honest. "Sure, he didn't think I'd go that far. But I miscalculated too. Now I gotta fuck him up before he tries to fuck me up."

I swallow. Is this what Dabi meant by information comes with a cost over here?

"I'm sorry Dabi," I tell him, my tears falling over my now bloody hands. "I didn't want you speaking to Mr. Lane and if I-"

"Relax," Dabi cuts me off. "I'm going to make use of that guy. I'm just trying to find the right moment."

I let go of the rag.

"You can't be possibly planning on seeing him again."

Dabi doesn't respond.

The tears start to fall again. "You promised me I wouldn't need to worry about you," I say, my voice getting shakier and shakier. "You said goodbye and see you tomorrow, knowing you were fucking going to Mr. Lane today!"

Dabi looks at the door in alarm, and his eyes narrow. He grabs the hand I'm waving in his face and I could tell his patience was running thin. "Rina, I'm trying here. If you saw what Mr. Lane looks like now you wouldn't be so worried about me. But I'm gonna need you to lower your voice."

I turn my face away from him and wipe the tears from under my eyes. Dabi suddenly gives me a weird look and I glance at my hands.

Fuck.

I grab a napkin and rub the blood off my face until I can wash it off later.

He watches me cautiously. I don't meet his eyes as I take the rag off to rinse it again.

"Stop moving," I mutter, lightly dabbing his skin with the wet cloth.

Dabi hisses.

"Sorry. Does it hurt?"

Dabi groans. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"Just...shut up. Stop moving so much."

Dabi grows silent.

For the next half hour, I continue my ministrations, avoiding his gaze. I know having me so close to him makes him slightly uncomfortable. But I don't care.

"Take off your shirt," I tell him once the bleeding seems to stop. "I'll try to wrap it up."

"No."

I look at him, my eyes ever more hurt.

"No," He repeats, his voice more stern. "I'll do it myself later."

Without thinking, I lean against him and close my arms around his torso.

"I know you keep saying not to worry but what am I supposed to do when you walk in looking like this?" I whisper against his chest.

He looks up at the ceiling, trying to hold his breath.

"You've gotta stop doing that, princess."

My heart beats faster.

"Or what?" I challenge him, hugging him tighter.

He glances at my lips ever so briefly and looks away.

"You'll fuck me up."

I ignore him and hug him anyway, not caring about the stains that undoubtedly cover my shirt now.

I don't know long we stay that way.

Dabi doesn't hug me back this time...but he doesn't move away either.

I wish I could know what he was thinking. What he means by Mr. Lane knowing who he is, and what uses he may have for him. What he did to him today and how he was able to slip free.

But every day, I discover that more and more secrets exist between us.

#dabi #todoroki touya #dabi fanfic #dabi fic #dabi angst #dabi x oc #dabi fluff #dabi x female reader #touya fluff #bnha fic #touya todoroki #mha #mha fic #league of villains #anime #anime fanfiction

[devildom-tyrant]

Ahhhh Ty!!! Same faves!!! Same faves!!! I'm still new to the game rn, chapter 3 lol, but what do you think would happen if Mc went along with Levi's plans for the lols and offered Mammon to break the pact right after Levi left or something? I really didn't like how forceful mc is in the game with how they barely even lived in the place yet they're there forcing their way through the demon's lives. Really peeved me especially on the next arc of belphegor tower, no respect for the house. ~👑

*Keep me updated with your feelings in the other chapters!  I definitely wanna hear about what you think!  =D  

I have to agree; the way the pact’s made so easily didn’t sit well with me, and I also didn’t like how you don’t get a choice and have to kinda sneak around their house despite Lucifer’s rules.  It’s like… you just got there and you’re going to be that nosy?  I guess it’s because you just appear in Devildom and they’re demons and fuck, this is all new and interesting and there’s a spooky voice calling from upstairs, what kind of demon shit’s going on here??  But it still felt a little early for that lol.  

ANYWAY, here’s you some nice introspective on the Mammon pact!

_________________

The day after you helped Levi with his plan, you can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable.  Everyone is making a big deal about the pact you made with Mammon — when in truth, you didn’t actually know what a pact entailed.  You’re honestly still a little fuzzy on the details, but when you told Mammon to pay Levi back and he actually did, you couldn’t help but stare.

It didn’t seem like he would do casual things; if you asked Mammon to stop being so wanton with his spending, he would blow you off and do as he wished.  But when you commanded him to hurry down the stairs so you wouldn’t be late, his body moved so fast that he tripped and rolled down the steps while Levi somehow filmed it and the rest of his brothers laughed.  

Your face had flushed as hot as Mammon’s; you hadn’t meant for that to happen, and you felt mortified.  Even as you apologized, he grumbled and waved you off, and you felt guilty the rest of the day.

Even though Mammon was made fun of all day for “being tricked” into a pact with the exchange student, he still spent the day walking around with you, and after classes were over, he asked if you wanted to go shopping down the main stretch.  

“I went through all that trouble for Goldie, and ya better believe I’m gonna treat her right!  She’s begging me for a night out!  So, what’dya say?”

Goldie, of course, is his credit card — which he’s cradling against his cheek with a broad grin.  

“Are you just asking me because of the pact?” you blurt, unsure if this is some kind of side-effect of the bond.  He seemed bothered by the fact that he had to show you around before, but now he’s going out of his way to invite you?

His brows furrow.  “That?  Pfft, no!  I’m supposed to be your chaperone or whatever, and if you go by yourself and get killed by some random demon, then Lucifer’s going to be pissssed.  N-not that I care!  I’m not afraid of him!  It’s just a hassle to deal with, and I’d rather be spending my time with Goldie!”   His attention turns back to the piece of plastic in his hand.  “Don’t you worry, girl!  I won’t let that jerk Lucifer get his hands on you again!  We’ll never be apart!”

You feel your eye twitch slightly, but you give in and spend the evening on the town with Mammon.  He’s so excited over being reunited with his credit card that he can’t get the giddy grin off his face, and he’s always sure to buy whatever the most expensive brand is.  After a bit, his good mood becomes contagious, and you shake off your guilt to enjoy your time looking through the various devil products.  Most of them seem like off-brand things you’ve seen in the human world, but there were also some manga, video game, and TV show merch that you recognized.

When you get back to the House of Lamentation, you’re seeing Mammon in a bit of a new light.  He was fun, he was engaging, and he asked for your opinions on nearly all of his purchases (and then bought them regardless).  

After dinner — where his brothers continued to tease him — you ask Mammon if you could speak to him, and he shows up in your room.  

“‘sup?” he asks, plopping onto your bed with complete familiarity.  

You’re not sure where to sit; you feel nervous, and you stand in front of him, wringing your fingers together.  

“Um, I wanted to talk about the pact.”

“That’s all anyone’s talkin’ about, huh?” Mammon sighs, mumbling under his breath, “I’ll show ‘em a poor excuse for a demon.  They kept forgettin’ I’m the second oldest–and therefore second strongest!”

“Look, I, uh…”  Just come out and say it.  “Do you want out of the pact, Mammon?”

He blinks slowly, staring at you as if you just announced you were actually a dog in a human suit. “What?”

“The pact.  I went along with Levi’s plan to see what would happen, but it’s not like I want to have power over you or something.  I mean, you don’t really know me that well, and now suddenly you’re getting made fun of and…”  The words came rushing out of you, but you suddenly trail off.  His expression had hardened while you were talking, and it’s difficult to think while he’s looking at you like that.  

“The pact’s not somethin’ I intend to back out of.  It’s not that simple, for starters, and that’d be a pain… but it’s also not that big of a deal.  I’m used to gettin’ made fun of, and I’ll get those assholes back, don’t worry.”

“But, I feel bad that I… that you got tricked.”  You couldn’t bring yourself to say that I forced you into this, even as the words were on the tip of your tongue.

“You really think I entered a pact jus’ for Goldie?  I mean, hell yeah, she means that much to me, and Levi was threatening to tell Lucifer about it, but I could’ve managed to get her back some other way.  I’m not that much of an idiot, sheesh!” 

He crosses his arms, frowning at the implication, while you slowly sit down on the bed beside him. 

“Why then?”  Your heart is hammering in your ears; you’re not a fan of direct confrontation, but you’re beginning to realize your stay in Devildom is going to require quite a bit of it.

Mammon doesn’t look at you.  His tanned face slowly begins to turn pink.  “You seem interesting… for a fragile human that can’t do anything.”  

Suddenly, he shrugs and bolts up from your bed, whirling toward you with his hands planted on his hips.  “I mean, you don’t even have any magical power, so it’s not like you can utilize even a quarter of a pact, so I’ve got nothin’ to worry about there!  And being in a pact with THE Mammon means it’s less likely some rando’s gonna eat your soul, and that makes it easier on ME.  See, the pact actually works out in my favor, and — and I figured all of this out from the get-go!  Yeah!”  

He definitely just came up with all of that on the spot, but you can’t help but smile.  Is he trying to make you feel less guilty about the whole thing?  

“Thank you, Mammon.”

His cheeks flare pink again, and he looks away.  “Wh-what are you thanking me for?  I was just explainin’ that I’m not an idiot — that I actually planned all of this to make it easier to slack!  So if anything, I’d say I’m a genius!”  

You nod along, agreeing with a sarcastic tone that he doesn’t catch until ten seconds later, and the two of you fall into your usual banter.  He lingers in your room… and it kick-starts a nightly ritual of him coming there after dinner to hang out.  

#obey me #obey me game #obey me imagine #mammon #mammon imagine #avatar of greed #oh man oh man i love me some mammon #i def wanna explore the pacts a bit more! #they're so interesting #and kinda under-utilized so far #but i have a feeling that'll change later #it's 3am #should i queue this? #nah #and... posted! #as levi would say #Anonymous

[girlmounter]

URGENT QUESTION TO ALL MY FOLLOWERS, I NEED YOUR FEEBACK!

Okay so here's the situation. I am asking you all to please please read this through and like, maybe tell me if I made the right decision... because I feel terrible about this. I would love it if someone told me if this is correct or wrong and I should've done something else. I'm not a popular blog, so whoever this post might reach (which is not going to be a lot of people) please please take some time out to read this through. I know it's a really long post, but I really really need your opinion on this. If you don't have the time right now, maybe just reblog it and save it for later. It would also help this post reach more people. Also please check the tags for the trigger warnings.

I have been going to a therapist for about 5 months now. My mom, as you probably know by now, is narcissistic and my dad enables her, along with my mom's parents who we live with. I have no siblings, and I just turned 17. Since we live in Asia, all you desi people know how hard society is on us when we go against our parents, who are supposed to be godly figures.

So all along, my therapist, (for confidentiality's sake we'll call him Sam, 21), has been bent on making me talk to them. I dont know why. I've tried explaining so many times that talking to my mom is not an option because 1) NARCISSISTIC PEOPLE DON'T EVER CHANGE and 2) my mom WILL use all my words against me and twist them into whatever she wants and later bring them up to bring me down. You guys with narcissistic parents know this shit too well.

It's not like I haven't ever even tried talking to them, I have! I've done it so many times, with a calm tone, in the most diplomatic way possible. There were times I tried to get the point across by crying and being desperate too. There were also times where I thought anger might work out.

It never did. It doesn't. It won't, because she is not looking for solutions or for mending the bond between us. All she wants is to infantilize me and keep me under her control forever. Mom and dad both want this. They don't ever want to let me out of their sights. They don't let me out of their sights.

A very long story short, I am supervised 24/7, I don't have much of a phone, I don't have friends, I don't have any family members who would support me, I don't have much of a family either tbh. I am monitored like crazy, gaslighted every single day, lied to, manipulated like hell, and babied to the point where it's just narcissistic infantilization and not concern anymore. To them, I'm a baby when it suits them, and I'm an adult when it suits them better that way. She doesn't care about what I think because apparently I'm a liar and to all those people out there who know the smear campaigning and the flying monkeys and the triangulation....yeah. All of that happens on a regular basis. I know I'm not providing any concrete proof and situations but please believe me. Please believe me. My memory is so shot I can't remember anything and i know it doesn't work out in my favor but please please believe me I'm telling the truth...

I have made three suicide attempts, I used to cut and was very badly addicted to it, and now I don't cut, but yeah I'll be sharing the reason in a little bit. Please hold on, this means a huge deal to me. Please don't scroll past this.

So Sam never really even had a smidge of doubt that my mom might be narcissistic, and I wasn't given the benefit of doubt either. After months of research when I myself figured that it might be narcissism, I told him and he went along with it. He does believe me now. But somehow I don't feel very understood. I dont feel better after I talk to him. I feel like my problems are trivial and that I'm just not working hard enough. I feel misunderstood and I never feel satisfied. I asked him for tips to deal with crushing loneliness and panic attacks and stuff like that, but I never receive real answers. When I asked for help with my suicidal thoughts, he just said that it's never an option and that's it. That's the only answer I got. When I asked for help with cutting, the only answer I got was that if I even tried to cut again, I'd lose him.

Like. Is that really how therapy is supposed to work?

Half of the time we just while time away, talking as if we're friends and I mean, it's a paid session. We're not very financially well off right now, what with the pandemic and everything, and we're paying him 2000 INR a week. It's a lot for us because we ain't exactly rich. That's like 10,000 INR a month.

I try to talk, I'm told that I don't stop talking and don't let him speak. When I don't speak, I'm not speaking enough. I dont feel comfortable anymore in a way that I think I should be with a therapist. I have recieved more helpful advice from actual PhD psychologists who are making videos on dealing with narcissism on YouTube. I feel more understood by them than I ever have with him. So many times I have left the session crying and hours later I'd still be stifling tears. So many times I don't feel heard and I feel like if I told him something he'd be angry. Sometimes he snaps and is like way too straightforward and it just doesn't do well with me. He doesn't support a lot of stuff that I support, like anti body shaming, especially for overweight people and stuff like LGBTQIA+ too, really. I'm mocked in an underhand way if I express that I support stuff that he doesn't really like. It's not straightforward but... I can't shake the feeling.

I do sometimes look forward to the sessions, if only because I'll have someone to talk to...but that's pretty much it. I'm not getting anything out of this. He claims that no one will understand me the way he does, and he keeps comparing my life to his, which I don't like. He says that in a way he and I both very similar and he relates to me and then proceeds to tell me about events in his life. He says that I'm his favorite client and now a good friend too, but I feel like that's not how it should be. And I do make an effort to listen to him tell me stuff about his life but...shouldn't it be the other way round?

Now I'm not saying that he is a bad person. I have loads of my own issues too; severe depression, crippling anxiety, overthinking every freaking thing, I'm like 100% sure I have complex PTSD from this childhood trauma, constant pain everywhere, crazy headaches, flashbacks, nightmares, hallucinations sometimes, and major emotion repression. I'm dealing with a million and one things right now and yes that might be causing me to feel worse about this situation than I should. I admit that I'm not exactly thinking about this in a diplomatic way...but somehow it doesn't feel right, and hence this really long post.

If you're still here, thank you so much. Your reading this is doing something that means a lot to me. Truly.

He exercises a lot, and he gave me a whole schedule to follow with the meals I should eat and the exercise I should do and somehow I never feel like I'm doing enough. If I miss out I can't tell him because he always reprimands me for messing up. I dont feel comfortable about opening up and then he forces me to do that and then when I do I don't feel better.

Lately, we'd been talking about how I need to tell my parents to their face what I feel is wrong with their actions, and how without that happening there's no point to our sessions anymore. Straight up went that if I don't talk to them on this Sunday, then we're not going to have sessions anymore.

I tried explaining to him many times how my mom will never change, how I don't want to enrage them further, how I don't want to give her more information on my life that she can use against me again...but no use.

He insisted over and over again on how she has no idea what she's doing to me, and if we just talked it out, my whole situation will be fine. This is just a huge misunderstanding.

I tried so hard to make him understand that that's not how it works for her, she doesn't want to resolve things and she'll just jump at the first chance she gets to use all my information against me, but no. I tried telling him that I have talked to her before and that I also used to think that if I just told her what they were doing wrong, then they would understand and mend their ways, I mean it took me YEARS to convince myself that it was never gonna happen! I tried it so many times and everytime I fell for this trap and everytime I regretted it but he doesn't get that! At all! That they're never gonna change!

Instead of helping me get over them, instead of telling me how to move on, instead of helping me grieve over my entire childhood... he was forcing me to talk things out with them, because if I didn't tell them I would be keeping it inside me and letting that fester would be bad.

I agree that it's not healthy for me to keep things to myself, which is why I talked to him right? And the things which are troubling me cannot be resolved with them because they refuse to change their ways!

The only thing that would come out of that family discussion is me at a disadvantage and them at an advantage by having all the latest scoop on my life and then have my mom (who is a doctor who has also done a course on CBT) psychoanalyse me even more than she does now. I'd be tailed harder. It will get worse and I know it. I've seen it and I promised myself that I would never make the same mistake of opening up to them honestly ever again. And here Sam wanted me to that very thing.

And I agreed initially, I tried convincing myself that maybe it'll work out and after all, Sam will be defending me and everything (even though he did say he would support them if he found them correct) but I didn't feel good about it. I remembered that a therapist is supposed to make you feel more at ease and let you take your own time to process through things and never force a client to do something if they had doubts about it.

And so I texted him today, and I refused. He said we won't have any more sessions, but I said it's fine. Because I don't want to go to him anymore anyway. I think I would rather have no one to talk to, than have someone belittle my experiences and just overall make me feel worse than I did when I first entered the session.

There's more stuff that was related to this, and if you guys want to know something before making your judgement of this situation, please please please ask me, message me, but please just have a bird's eye view on this whole thing and tell me if I made the right decision...please.

I would really appreciate some feedback right now.

Thank you so,so much for sticking with me till the end of this post. It means the world to me, honestly. I couldn't thank you more.

#tw: narcissism #tw: narcissistic mom #tw: trauma #tw: abuse #therapist problems #family issues #tw: suicide mention #tw: anxiety #tw: depression #tw: ptsd #tw: self harm #help needed #one note a day #please help #boost this #please reblog this with your opinion below #i really need feedback #i wouldnt have asked if i didnt have to #this means a lot to me #please believe me #help #if you dont wanna comment #just please boost this atleast #surviving narcissistic abuse #narcissistic parents #narcissistic abuse #narcissistic help

[hirazuki]

Ooo I'm curious about your hot takes on the Inuyasha reboot after reading your tags 👀

Ahaha, where to start XD Idk if they are hot takes, but here are my thoughts in bullet point form for coherency, I couldn’t figure out how else to organize them. Under a cut, as usual, because it got lengthy... as usual :D

We are 13 episodes in, and I still have no idea wtf is going on or what the series is actually about. And yes, I’m aware that we didn’t know of Naraku’s existence or of the overarching plot until at least episode 16 of that series either and Inuyasha was still very episodic in nature at that early point too, but here’s the thing: Inuyasha did not build upon a pre-existing series. For better or for worse, Yashahime has certain expectations to live up to that the original anime didn’t, by virtue of its being a sequel. Unfair? Maybe, but tough; that’s what happens when you make a sequel. Additionally, despite us not knowing The Main Plot™ of Inuyasha until later, the basic framework for it was laid out clearly by... episode 2? I think? Find and collect the Shikon Jewel shards. Boom, done. Were there distractions or fillers? Sure, but you never got the sense that the characters simply up and forgot about the shards. Even in fillers, the shards often made some kind of appearance. With Yashahime, there’s like three potential storylines going on: 1. The most obvious: most of our main cast from the OG is missing; where are they? Apparently no one in-story cares! :D Inuyasha, who’s that lol. I’m all for a sequel focusing on the new generation with cameos of the old crew; after all, they already had their own series. But this is like... no one cares about them? No one talks about them? And the more characters go about not mentioning them, the stronger their absence is felt. Like, for instance, Kaede knows Moroha is InuKag’s daughter. Moroha grew up on her own, doesn’t know her parents. Kaede doesn’t mention them to Moroha, doesn’t even spare a passing thought about them for the audience’s benefit, Moroha doesn’t ask. Kagome’s family in the present day meet Moroha, recognize her as Kagome’s daughter and... say nothing??? Souta shows Towa Kagome and Inuyasha’s old photos, but doesn’t say a word to Moroha?! Like. It makes no sense. By people not even acknowledging their existence, it makes the fact that they are nowhere to be found even weirder. Also the new gen girls don’t care about their parents or finding out who they were/are... like, okay, it would maybe be in character for one or two of them, but all three don’t give a fuck??? 2. Kirinmaru/the rainbow pearls: Idk how familiar you are with the story, but similar deal with Naraku and the shards here. Kirinmaru is being set up as the villain, still a mysterious figure; our new gen trio is supposed to collect the rainbow pearls that... some of his henchmen have? Or he is after them? Or is that Riku? Unclear. ANYWAY the new gen girls often forget all about the pearls’ existence :D 3. Setsuna’s memories: Setsuna’s dreams have been stolen by the dream butterfly and they need to get them back, because without her dreams she has no memories and is unable to sleep. Cool! Finally a solid, easy-to-follow plot line! Except wait! Towa, who supposedly made it her goal to get Setsuna’s sleep back, forgets all about it! All the time! Like, none of them make an effort to look into this other than being like “oh yeah, know anything about the dream butterfly?” to random folks every now and then. The Inugang back in the day was putting some grad school level research towards their goals, just saying. It just feels like everything’s all wishy-washy and there’s nothing really solid tying the series together. People just remember shit exists when it’s convenient.

.

Character development is MIA. I’m not expecting ground-breaking char dev in 13 episodes (though I do know 12 episode series that were phenomenal in that regard), but like... I do expect the series to focus on building the dynamics between the main three characters. So far, the series is more focused on teasing the audience with glimpses and promises of the OG cast instead. The creators are using nostalgia and bait (esp of a certain pairing) to drive interest in the series, rather than developing the new characters as fully-fledged characters for their own sakes. 

.

Moroha is was the only thing I actually liked about the series. She is a little spitfire and you can somehow instantly see both Inuyasha and Kagome in her, while she also remains very uniquely herself; I have never seen such a successfully developed main pairing child in any series. She featured quite prominently in the first few episodes -- and unlike both her parents, she’s got a great memory and knowledge of lore -- where she balanced funny moments with badass fighting moments and being the token supernatural encyclopedia. It was great! And then... they’ve like... forgotten her. She’s been left behind so many times by the twins. She’s the butt of every joke. She’s become the type of comic relief that’s, well, insulting. More like a buffoon than anything else. And it’s basically all for the sake of giving the floor to Towa :/

.

Setsuna is okay. Not offensive, but unremarkable. She’s got her dad’s personality but like way toned down due to her different growing up circumstances, which is nice, but like... I feel she isn’t given any room to grow or breathe or anything. She’s also basically there as a device to enhance Towa’s development.

.

Towa... oy. I tried to like her, I really did, but she just doesn’t work for me. They set her up having a very Kurosaki Ichigo type deal with beating up bullies and getting into trouble at school and shit -- I’m fine with that. That’s cool. Esp if it’s linked to not feeling like she fits in bc she’s a hanyou? Awesome. Except once she travels back in time to the feudal era it’s all “Oh killing is bad you shouldn’t kill people” and “even though they attacked me I can’t possibly hurt them” and “you need to empathize and talk things out” and “friendship is magic” and shit. It feels like she had a personality transplant, it literally makes no sense. Her design is totally nonsensical too -- out of everyone at her school, she’s the only one dressed in a bright white suit? Do protags not wear the school uniform? Someone should tell Kagome lmao. She’s a pro at hand to hand, and she can absorb demons’ powers and fling them back at them like a personified Tessaiga, and she has a lightsaber sword, and she’s immune to miasma, and -- like... you get it. It’s too much. It’s way too OP for the type of universe that Inuyasha/Yashahime is set in. She’s hanyou for fuck’s sake; remember all the training Inuyasha had to go through? When he couldn’t lift his sword? When his sword attacked him? Sango, Miroku, Kagome, even Sesshomaru all had trouble with their weapons and had to work to become stronger. But Towa? Nope. Towa is straight out of the Yas Queen/Girl Boss manual, so she gets a free pass on everything.

.

UGH they are doing the VLD/bad writing thing where things happen (like, BIG THINGS) and none of the characters actually react to them. Or stuff happens and there are no consequences. No one ever talks about anything. It’s wild.

.

Everyone has amnesia!! :D People either don’t know or don’t remember anything or anyone. People who absolutely should know things all of a sudden magically don’t know them. Like, Kohaku -- traveled with an undead priestess, spent years in the company of demons, traveled with Sesshomaru... and yet had NO CLUE that Setsuna is Sesshomaru’s daughter or that she is hanyou, despite her living and working with his team of demon slayers all this time. Like... how, man. How. And Kaede! Don’t get me started. Since when does she perpetuate random demon-boogeyman type stories as facts? Demon children will kill each other in the nest so that only the strongest one will survive, therefore Setsuna must have killed Towa when they were infants. O_O What are they, sharks? Has she been hanging out with Kisame? Wtf?? And she’s speaking about Sess’s kids as though she doesn’t know him or anything about him, when she has had Rin under her roof all these years. It just makes. no. sense.

.

Things that happened in the original series are happening again now! Because that’s the best we’ve got, recycled plot elements wooo! No, but really, characters that died or things that were resolved in Inuyasha keep coming back. Why? What was the purpose of bringing back Kinka and Ginka? To have a foil for Towa and Setsuna as twins? Someone please tell Sunrise they can just create new characters. Like, it’s one thing to have call backs to the original or cameos, references, whatever. But like... this is entire (dead) characters and interactions.

.

No one knows how long it’s been since the original series ended. Fans initially heard 20 years from promo material, then “over 15″ and “10 years since” in-series regarding two different events, and now in a future episode summary we’ve gotten 18 years since Hosenki II gave Inuyasha the black pearl. But like, which black pearl? Because the one in Inuyasha’s eye doesn’t exist anymore, but Hosenki II had told Inuyasha that it would take 100 years for him to produce one. So, are we retconning that or where the fuck did it come from? Also, this doesn’t help one bit, it just confuses things even more. Back to the point, though, we have no coherent timeline or real frame of reference whatsoever, and I’m betting it’s in large part to keep the mystery of who is Sesshomaru’s wife going, as it keeps Rin’s age very vague. Everything is vague and mysterious in Yashahime, to the point where no one knows what’s going on, in fandom or in-story even. It’s kinda like how too much plot twist/shock reveal ruins a story, too much mystery does the same. It’s insane that both shippers and antis of that ship can lay equal claim that the “18 years since” announcement works in their favor.

tl;dr: Idk man, Yashahime is a clusterfuck of a series. Even if the mother of Sess’s twins is either of the characters I ship him with, I will still not like the series. There’s no saving this writing. Every episode feels like this:

#baked-hylian #i've been wanting to rant for a while about this series thanks for enabling me! :D #i'm actually not upset about this sequel which is amazing; i thought for sure it would impact my love for the OG but nope! #it is so wild and out there that my brain literally cannot comprehend it as part of the same material #i'm just watching it out of the kind of morbid curiosity you'd watch a horrifying experiment with #and watching the fandom drama too ofc #popcorn in hand #so it's a win-win all around ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #talk: yh

[grlfriends]

The Raven Boys thoughts

ch 1: boi I thought gansey was the bald one 😔 anyway the bald bitch and the nerd who looks like a twink in every fanart are gay

ch 15: wow guys nothing has happened so far... nothing..... we're almost 200 pages in and nothing that interesting has happened, I know the plot is setting in and the pace is starting to speed up a little but wow so far this already isnt my fav book of the series I think

ch 24: ok the pace is starting to pick up and I'm really enjoying it rn, I still see gansey as this polo wearing and golf player fucker but he's getting better I guess, Ronan can fuck off sometimes he's so edgy it irks me a little

on this and on the previous chapter they saw/hallucinated some stuff at that hollow tree and then at the end gansey was like "ohh blue was the missing person/thing I feel so connected to her something something" and tbh I did not enjoy that very much it was a bit 😬😐 for me bc I just dont like when this type of connection between characters bc it feels like the author is trying to force/speed up a relationship they just dont have yet?? and we the readers must accept they feel the connection in their souls and it just feels so right for them to be around each other when in reality it feels a bit lazy to me..... I'm still halfway through the book so it's not like I can complain for real but still ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ch 42 maybe?? : okay just something's I wanna tall about: can we pay respect to Maggie stiefvater and how organic she made Adam deciding to wake the ley line?? bc it was GREAT and I deeply loved it, i know i said that the book felt boring and very slow and how it needed to pick up the pace but i think this trilogy falls into the lotr/hobbit category where it's one big movie (in the specific case, book) divided into 3 so it would be easier to digest and I think this makes total sense, everything I've read so far (from chap 33 to here) feels so perfectly paced and planed but still it feels natural, when Adam was coming back home and he had a confrontation (well, not really) with his dad it just felt like was supposed to happen at that time with those exact words describing everything and mwah I'm loving it so much

also!! boi do Adam and blue sound so cute together, when he said he wanted to kiss her I was like

bc holy shit do they make a cute couple EVEN THOUGH I do know she ends up with gansey and their energy is also really good but goddamn do they look cute together and to think he would have been her first kiss too I'm going insane rn brub oh my god

also maybe it's the 21 year old in me talking but god did I wish they were one or two years older, it just kinda makes me a bit :// reading to 16 year olds being this traumatized about life in general and I feel like it honestly would change much if all this happened in the meantime they're about to turn 18 bc it would still be a ya book but it would be just?? more comprehensive I guess, adam dialogue about making up enough money to leave his house and getting into a good college so he can live a good life and have a home finally baby that's a 17 year old talking and feeling the pressure of the so called adulthood and being so close to being independent but also still being so young and !!!! I just feel like it would make more sense to me personally

re: about gansey's glasses: did I miss something or have the part where he gets glasses already went by?? bc he shower up at blue's home wearing white ones and there was no tall about it?? nothing else and it makes me feel like I missed something and I'm not sure yet

ch 48 and ending thoughts: ok. I'm not really sure what to feel about it bc even I had a rocky beginning with it I did end up really liking the ending but it left such a big taste of wanting more than I got that it just kinda makes me feel like it was, in a way, a prologue for the second book, where I imagine things will be more intense and already be in motion plot-wise. I have many question but my biggest one is that wow apparently that was the big explanation for gansey wearing glasses?? bc it honestly looks like I missed something or a chapter where something happens and he got glasses, his fight with whelck did break his thumb but it somehow got him glasses too?? or what the hospital like "yeah you're blind so fuck here's some glasses bitch"?? and Adam mentioned something on his face from their fight and??? was the discussion their fight and how did it hurt gansey's face?????? HOW???

not only that but also Adam sacrificed himself and how exactly does that affects him?? or was the whole "oh I've sacrificed myself my whole life" dialogue supposed to explain something?? bc yeah it kinda did but I was left with the thought that he would be kinda like a puppet I guess? bc he said he would sacrifice himself so in a way he wouldnt be himself anymore and there would be something else controlling him and maybe that was just my imagination wanting to guess what was going to happen now

I did think there would be the classic sacrifice scene and that whelck would try to shot gansey and that Adam would step in front of him or idk bc the scenario wasn't really solid in my mind and I did have trouble trying to figure out who was in what place but it was fine I guess

how on earth did Noah pull out chainsaw from his dreams?? man what the heck I need to read the second book

#g.txt

[wolferals]

🌙TROUBLE🌙

arón piper imagine

🌼@bbaronpiper and I wanted to try something and got some basic keywords for a story and both of us wrote our own interpretation! A so seen little project🌼 hope you like it🌸

and check out her story as well TROUBLE

also check out her writings, shes amazing! @bbaronpiper

*

*

friday july 12th 2019

„Have you ever considered becoming a vegan officer?" you asked the tall handsome cop who sitting in front of you.

He looked at you in disbelief before speaking up:"Y/n, its one thing being a proud vegan but its another thing to carry out violet actions against Mr. Rodriguez. You overreacted and you have to deal with the consequences."

You scoffed and leaned back against your chair.

„And how long is that going to take here?"

He slowly lifted himself up from the wooden chair and turned to you once again, saying:"Apologize to him and maybe he wont sue you."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

He was the one who had provoked you by pushing you out of the way, making you fall. You had just asked him what that had been for and he had responded:"Get out of the way little girl. Maybe go to school instead of protesting against something you cant stop. Maybe eating some meat wouldnt harm you."

And yes maybe you had overreacted by kicking him in his left leg. But how were you supposed to know he had just had surgery?

When you had heard about the protest against animal cruelty in the middle of Madrid you had immediately called your best friend to tell her to make some signs.

And that said friend was now hiding somewhere, just as the cops had arrived she left you alone and ran.

In that very moment you could've screamed but you were too busy trying to hide. But they caught you eventually, thats why you were here.

„Alright Ms. Y/l/n, we only need your personal details and then you can go. You will receive a letter from us in the next week."

You looked up and listened to the police man talking to you. Then you grabbed your bag that's been sitting on the floor throughout this time and walked outside.

„Alright, sit down." An older woman ordered you.

You unwillingly sat down on another chair in the main area of the police station.

There were two other people you noticed. A young girl, maybe around the age of 11 who had probably lost her parents in the city. And a rather damaged boy your age, perhaps a little bit older, who had scars in his face.

Your gaze fell to his hand that had bleeding knuckles.

He noticed your stare and looked at you.

He didnt look very charming you figured. He looked pretty serious and was probably one of those guys that got into fights on the regular or maybe even did drugs.

„Full name." the unpleasant female cop yelled at you.

You looked at her and then took a deep breath. Your parents would kill you, but you had no choice, you were already in deep shit.

„Y/n (y/m/n) y/l/n)" you spoke and looked to the ground.

The lady mustered you and eventually wrote down the information.

„Birthday", „Place of birth" , „family status (parents names and birthdays)"  and other personal information followed. You unwillingly answered each time.

Great, now you were officially fucked.

„Wait here." She said after she slammed the „questionnaire" on the front desk where a young woman took it and started typing something on her computer.

So you just sat there for what felt like an eternity until another police officer entered the room and grabbed a chair to sit in front of the guy with the bruises.

„Alright. So, beating up teenagers is now cool or why did you do it?" he asked him while leaning back.

The guy just laughed and then replied:"First of all, they are not teenagers, they are over 18. And second, this fucker wanted to rob me. I just defended myself."

You listened interested until they both looked at you, making you look away rapidly.

„So you're saying that this boy who is about 5'6 wanted to rob a man who already has a criminal record?"

The guy nodded and added:"I know how this sounds but look what he did to me! The guy can do karate. I just hit back to run away."

The officer took a long breath in before answering:"Well too bad you got caught and are already very well known here Arón."

The guy suddenly looked very mad again and leaned towards the old police man.

„I didnt fucking start this!"

The man got up, put the chair back to its original position and said:"I'll get the report ready Mr Piper."

The guy cursed and then leaned back against the wall.

You were looking at his face. The bruises you had noticed before looked very fresh, there was still some liquid blood in them. But in general he was quite handsome. He had a sharp jaw, a very chiseled face structure and a shaved head. He looked like a criminal, judging from how the criminals on tv look like.

„Qué??" he then asked, making you snap out of your thoughts.

„Uh nothing." you replied and coughed.

You turned your face away from him.

„First time in trouble huh?" he asked and you could hear the grin in his tone.

You looked back at him, looked him up and down and replied sassy:"Duh."

He chuckled at you.

Then he spoke:"Welcome to the real world."

You had to laugh at his word choice. Next he sat up right.

„Did you beat him up?" you then asked out of curiosity.

„Arón" stared right into your eyes and eventually stated:"Did you kick the man out of nowhere?"

You responded with a small laugh. „Yeah." he just claimed and looked around.

„I'm fucked." you mumbled after a couple of seconds.

You could feel him looking at you. „Nah the first time isnt as bad. Plus, you just kicked someone, you didnt kill anyone."

Your head shot around. „Ah someone knows his way around huh?"

Arón chuckled again. „Nah. Not yet." he smiled.

You noticed a little gap between his front teeth. He didnt look as dangerous when he smiled.

„You know I'm good at assuming things about people. And you dont seem like a killer girl." he suddenly said.

You smiled and scanned his face secretly.

„What do I seem like then?"

He grinned and the next thing he did was stare you up and down for a bit. Until he finally spoke:"Rich girl, who lives with her parents. She likes to say what she thinks and sometimes gets into fights because of that. But she's never been arrested before so mommy and daddy are going to ground you for that."

You scoffed at him.

But he wasn't completely wrong.

„Well. Okay." was all you could say. He was pretty right about his statement.

After sitting in the hall for a little, the old officer finally came back and handed you your ID.

„You can go."

You got up and grabbed your bag with your left hand.

„Hey princess, tell mommy and daddy I'm sorry for their criminal daughter." you heard Aróns voice as you wanted to leave the police station.

„Ha ha very funny." you replied and faked a smile that turned into a frown.

„Hey girly, can I crash at your mansion some time?" he yelled after you.

„Sure. But I wont tell you where I live." you grinned and looked at his expression.

He looked chill despite the fact that he was in trouble like you had been.

„Dont worry, I'll find you."

You nodded unbelieving and then finally kept walking.

Now you had to explain to your parents why you were late, and why you were expecting a letter from the police. Fuck.

•

•

You somehow managed to tell your parents exactly how it happened without being yelled at. They believed that it wasn't completely only your fault yet they werent happy about the fact that you ended up at the police. But on the other hand you had never had any problems with the law before and you were usually a good girl, so they werent worried as much as expected. You hadnt told them about the lawsuit yet though. That was a future problem.

As it was now the next day you were just at home, finishing some assignments for your second year of college that would start next week.

You had taken a shower after dinner and then went to your room to watch a show before heading to bed.

To be honest, you had almost forgotten about the whole lawsuit thing when you went to bed that night. It got late, you got stuck with the newest season of your favorite show and actually fell asleep at around 1:30.

A loud noise woke you from your sleep and you sat up right, looking around all confused.

Your room was completely dark besides the streetlights from outside your window.

You heard the knock again and a shockwave went right through your body. Where did it come from? The house was all silent since your parents' bedroom was downstairs and your sister was sleeping at her boyfriends' almost every night.

Slowly you made your way threw the hallway checking where the noise came from. Your first thought was that it was probably the neighbors cat in the backyard or something but then you realized the bangs came from the bathroom.

You grabbed the first thing near you which was a vase that had been standing on a little table in the hallway.

Eventually you walked to the bathroom and turned on the light.

You got scared immediately as you saw a face in front of the window.

After looking at the person you realized it was the guy from the police station. You closed the bathroom door and unlocked the window.

„What the fuck are you doing here?" you whisper yelled.

The guy climbed into the room. He was wearing a black hoodie with some dark grey sweatpants and a black beanie. „You said i could sleep here if I found you. And i did."

You were actually creeped out. So you just stared at him until your confidence came back. „How did you fucking find my house?" you asked and pushed him back a little bit. He grinned and leaned against the sink. „I stole the paper with your information."

Your eyes widened. „You what??" you asked him in disbelief. „You're welcome. Now they got nothing against you. For the police you dont exist."

You didnt know if you should thank him for it or hit him in the face for doing such a stupid thing. What if the police thought you stole it? „So where can i sleep then?" he asked you and took a look around. His bruises were still visible but now looked a lot more clean and healed.

„Uh." you stuttered and thought about his question.

„My parents are right downstairs. You cant just sneak in here and expect me to offer you my bed. I dont know you, you could be a psycho!" He laughed at you and stepped closer to you. You were intimidated because you couldnt step back any farther. Your back was already touching the wall next to the bathtub.

„I wont hurt you, I just need a place to sleep." You looked right into his eyes that were only inches away from yours.

He was so close he could probably hear your heart pound. It was about to jump out of your chest. You then offered him to sleep on the small couch in your room, if he promised to disappear before your parents found out.

So you passed him a blanket and two pillows and finally turned off the light the second time this night.

„Goodnight." you automatically whispered. You heard a little chuckle from the other side of the room before he whispered back a quiet:"Gracias."

•

When you woke up a couple of hours later your room was lightened by the sun. You rubbed your eyes and sat up. You almost had a little heart attack when you saw someone laying on your couch. But then you remember what happened only 4 hours before. The guy who's name you werent sure about -was it Arón?- was sleeping peacefully, his closed eyes facing you. You noticed he had taken off his shirt. You didnt see his stomach but you could see his naked, muscular arms over the blanket. And you saw some tattoos on them. And a small tattoo on his chest.

He looked quite cute when he was sleeping.

You then checked your phone and thought about what you'd do today until you heard footsteps coming upstairs.

Your mom! She always says goodbye before work. Its like a mother-daughter tradition because once when you were a kid and she didnt say bye you had a panic attack because you thought something happened to her. You jumped up from the bed towards the couch.

„Wake up! Wake up! You gotta hide, my mom's coming!" you shook him to wake him up. He replied with a raspy groan and eventually opened his eyes.

„Huh?" he asked confused looking at you. -„Hide! My mom!" You whispered and waited for him to get in the closet.

But since he took so long realizing what was going on, it happened what had to happen.

Your mom was standing in your room, staring at both of you. You in your oversized shirt and no pants and this strange boy shirtless. You were fucked.

„Uhh y/n?" she asked and looked at you in confusion.

You were all staring each other down until Arón spoke up:"Mrs. Y/l/n, im so sorry. My name is Arón, I'm your daughters boyfriend." He shook her hand smiling. Your mother on the other hand looked confused as hell. Just as you. Did he just call himself your boyfriend?

„Oh. I didnt know she had a boyfriend." Your mom replied and then actually chuckled. She laughed! She wasnt mad?

„I have to go to work now but nice to meet you Arón. See you later honey, i think we have to talk."

She said after none of you said anything.

„Likewise" Arón spoke before your mom left your room and closed the door.

„What the hell?" you yelled at him and lightly punched him in the chest.

„I had no choice. What do you want me to do? Say that I broke in here because we met at the police station?"

You ran your hand through your hair and then said:"Please go. I'm in enough trouble already. Please leave."

He nodded, then grabbed his sweater and put it back on.

„Can i sleep here tonight too? I dont really know where to go." he asked while picking up his things.

You rolled your eyes but nodded softly.

„Thank you!" He smiled and came up to you.

„Sure." you replied and crossed your arms.

He opened the door to your room and whispered a „see you tonight" before finally leaving your house.

You didnt really trust this guy. Something about him was off but you didnt know quite yet what it was.

•

•

Arón's been crashing at your place for a week now and a lot of weird things happened inbetween. You only saw him at night when he climbed through your bedroom or the bathroom window. Then you usually went to bed and in the morning he left. You never knew where he went and you also didnt know why he couldnt sleep at his parents'.

Your mom and dad had both talked to him before and actually believed he was your boyfriend. Around them he acted like an angel but you knew he wasnt. I mean, he's never insulted you or been rude but he certainly wasnt an example of a good guy.

One night as you were sleeping, him laying on your couch, you were woken by someones voice talking in your room.

Arón was walking around your carpet, speaking into his phone loudly.

„Whats up?" you whispered and looked at him all sleepy.

He showed you he needed a second and kept discussion in spanish.

He was pretty loud and you were worried your parents might wake up from his voice. And he seemed mad, almost aggressive.

He then hung up and before you knew, he slammed his phone on the wall. It broke immediately, shocking you intensely.

„Jeez what the fuck!" you spoke and got up from the bed.

Arón in the meantime put on his jacked and wanted to walk out of the room but you chased him, trying not to make too much noise walking downstairs.

„Where are you going?" you asked.

„I need to see someone before this certain person wakes your parents." he boldly spoke and opened the front door.

You were only wearing shorts and a top and it was chilly outside. But you were far too concerned to grab a jacket.

You closed the door behind you and ran after him.

„Y/n go to bed." he then ordered as he kept walking.

„No i need to know whats happening."

He scoffed at you and finally stopped as you both reached a person standing around the corner.

Aron was just standing there staring at the dark dressed man.

You were right behind him, carefully taking a look.

„Arón." the guy finally spoke and came up to you both, grabbing aron by the jacket.

„What do you want?" arón asked the man, sounding as if he was about to rip his head off.

„Needed to see you little brother." the guy replied and then noticed you hiding behind Aróns back.

„Oh got yourself a girlfriend huh?" he grinned and walked around him to get closer to you.

„Hey you." he smiled and reached out to touch you but you backed off and mustered him.

„She's hot." the guy then said and turned around to arón again.

„What the fuck are you doing here Juan?" Arón finally spoke up. „Taking you home. Mom is worried about you."

Aron laughed fake before claiming:"Oh really?"

Juan stepped right in front of Aron and looked at him.

„I like your new haircut brother. You look like a prisoner."

Arón didnt reply, he clenched his fist as if he was about to hit.

„If you keep going like that, you will be soon." Juan added and smiled at him.

„Fuck off im not coming home." arón mumbled and wanted to step back but Juan grabbed his arm and answered:"You. Are coming with me. Because I say so."

Aron freed his arm and yelled:"Get out of my life."

You just watched as they were yelling at each other. The reason for Aróns stubbornness wasnt quite clear for you until he said one specific thing:"Mom and Dad dont want me back! All they want was you. You're the only son they ever wanted."

He was jealous of his big brother.

What you figured out from their conversation, Juan was a troublemaker himself but then started studying and was now about to be a lawyer. Apparently their parents had always supported him, even though he used to be in deep shit often times. Arón kept claiming that he was „nothing to their parents".

At some point the situation escalated and Juan grabbed Aron rather harshly and Aron pushed him back. Which made Juan fall to the ground, hitting his head on the concrete.

Juan looked even more furious than Aron then.

He got up again and basically jumped arón.

You felt useless, watching those brothers fight in the middle of the streets.

But suddenly you decided to do something.

You went up to them and jumped on Arons back to make him stop.

„Stop this shit before someone calls the cops!" you tried to calm them down.

But Aron was so furious he threw you right off.

You landed on your back rather harshly, moaning out in pain. It had been really fucking painful.

He didnt even notice that he had hurt you, they kept yelling at each other until you heard police sirens getting closer.

Juan seemed to notice as well and let go of Aron.

„You know what, fuck you! You're useless to this family. Come back after achieving something!" Juan yelled and just disappeared between the streetlights and the bushes.

„Fuck." Aron cursed and finally turned around to you.

„Run!" he then said as the police car turned around the corner.

You got up in pain and grabbed his reached out hand.

„Faster!" he told you and pulled you with him as he was running super fast. You almost stumbled over your own feet.

„Where?" you just asked and concentrated on running as fast as you could.

Usually you hated running but right now it felt good. Free kind of. You had never run from the cops, especially not with a known criminal who wasnt as bad as you thought.

„Fuck, run faster." he yelled but you couldnt go any faster.

Eventually he let go of you to make you jump into a bush.

The cops were right behind you but didnt seem to notice you hiding, they ran past you after Aron.

And aron on the other hand did something you hasnt expected. He stopped running.

He turned around and put his hands up in the air.

What the fuck was he doing?

The police reached him and put him in a secure grip in a fast motion. He couldve gotten away easily if he hadnt stopped!

They grabbed him by the arm and pulled him through the alley of trees towards the police car.

You looked him straight in the eyes as they walked past you. He inconspicuously smiled at you.

What was he doing?

As they sat him in the police car you slowly got out of the bush.

So you just stood there. They couldve seen you but you didnt care, you just wanted to see what was happening.

Some of your neighbors were outside looking as well.

Before the car took off you felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket.

Who would text you at 3am?

You took it and opened the message.

You started to smile and looked up to see him smiling at you from the police car.

Arón:"Can I crash again when I get out?"

⭐️

#elite #cute #preference #aronpiper #omander #aronxreader #ander #preferences #imagine #police

[jp-oc]

Double Bloom drabble 1

AU: On the right wrist of every individual is the first words their soulmate will speak to them.

Characters: Aalto, Iain, Destiny, Oliver, Mochi, Vel, Kadence.

Word count: 2,266

Aalto kept his arm outstretched. It strained him, keeping a focus on the spells he was practicing while maintaining control over his prosthetic’s fingers. To stay clear, he tested the waters and allowed his shaking hand to relax slightly to give himself more control.

“Keep your mind on balancing both tasks.”

Aalto stiffened his prosthetic’s arm once again. He hated to hear that voice, demanding and condescending. Commanding him to do what felt impossible, to do what made him sweat under the desert sun, with no sympathy to spare for him.

Hours passed, with limited success. Aalto was able to keep his prosthetic arm in the casting pose using his magic, however, since the incident that took his arm, Aalto encountered trouble in focusing on casting magic while controlling his prosthetic. He did well enough for a small nod from Iain before being told what he had done wrong.

It was only the occasional training session that Iain would end with some half-assed summary of what Aalto had done decently. Usually it was what he struggled with, and how it wasn’t anywhere near what was expected of him, as it was today. Destiny was always waiting inside on the days she didn’t teach, and would often greet Aalto afterwards, offering some kind of drink to help him cool off. He would take it, thank her, and go to his room and lock the door.

Now Aalto sat in his room, listening to the primarily one-sided conversation in their makeshift kitchen. Destiny was reminding Iain to ‘go easy, he’s just a human boy.’ Aalto assumed that Iain had barely acknowledged it. A thankful smile grew as he heard Destiny’s reaction to whatever bullshit Iain had tried for an excuse after that, ‘he’s not like us, Iain, and you know you shouldn’t push him like you are!’

Aalto then laid back onto his bed, trying to think past the conversation going on just down the hall. He tiredly pulled his tunic off, arching his back slightly to unzip his binder before pulling it off alongside his arm. He had heard the argument before, and he was tired of being reminded. He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of sand hitting his window as he thought back and attempted to keep his breathing keep and steady.

Aalto had lost his arm after casting a higher level destruction spell. Destiny was concerned for the fact that Aalto had suffered a major injury, one that was able to be healed quickly by her magic. She began her thoughts towards his mental health, but it was short-lived after Iain discovered the scene. He was proud, the bastard. Proud that this human that his sister had adopted somehow paid off. He told Aalto that casting that spell was promising, that it assured him of the potential that lay within him. Training increased from once a week to three times a week, one of which was with Destiny. Those were Aalto’s favorite sessions.

Aalto slept with a common dream of his own. When he had lost his arm, he had lost something else entirely. On the right wrist of every human individual were the first words they will hear from their soulmate. Iain and Destiny lacked those words, however, Aalto fawned over this distinction. When he was young, he had enjoyed the concept of a soulmate. He begged Destiny to tell stories of how he may grow older, a master of the magic Iain promised to teach him, and as he performed miracles to help other humans like him, a stranger spoke the words- “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

So what now? Have his words been erased from his would-be soulmate? Has his soulmate forgotten him, or would they be searching for the person with an intact right wrist that says those exact words as they speak? Oh, what a mistake he had made.

In this dream, Aalto was pushing his way through a thick wood, using his magic to bend the greenery out of his path. He wore the outfit Destiny had made for him, it felt as if it was made of silk, and it never grew dirty. She called it professional, said it made him look dashing. Maybe that’s why he always wore in the dream. As he trudged forward, wildlife watched him. An uneasy feeling overtook him as he moved faster, it was as if a message was passed through the woods to him, a message he was desperate to answer. It was then that Aalto pushed past into a clearing, and in the center lay a figure. Aalto called out, and in return he looked to his prosthetic, the words spoken towards him written as if that was his own flesh and bone.

When he awoke, Aalto saw Destiny’s kind face hovering over his. Immediately she smiled gently, knowing to keep her excitement down. He was exhausted, and a slow glance at the window gave the indication that he had slept towards the evening, with no harsh winds and a sky no longer burdened with a burning sun.

Destiny shifted, kneeling to be face level with Aalto. “Iain and I talked about your training, he should be going easier on you now. When you’re with him, I’ll be your audience from now on. How does that sound?“

Aalto hummed. “Good, I just… It’s just that I don’t want to trap myself again.” he whispered. After training, Aalto slept. Then he ate. And then he slept again until morning came, and Iain waited for him to eat before training began once more.

Destiny brought a hand up and began to run her hands through Aalto’s hair. She brought her head up to rest beside his. This was her boy. He was mature, but young. An idea sparked, and Destiny smiled, bringing her head up.

“Rumor has it that there is a bakery opening in Nucifera, and I’d hate to live in the mystery that their goods might somehow match up to our own.” Destiny brought an arm up to lean on, smiling more as Aalto understood. “So, I think it would be best if you redressed and went out to get a meal along with some treats from that bakery. Perhaps then we can make the decision on if it is up to our own quality.”

Aalto smiled, reaching for his binder and arm before Destiny pulled it over to him. She winked at him, and as she reached the door, Aalto gave a tired wave.

“Love you.” he said.

“I love you too. Be safe.”

When Aalto arrived in the kingdom, the sun was lowered enough to touch the sandy horizon. He enjoyed the view from the kingdom, but it was difficult to shake the feeling of unease as he stepped out of the desert and onto the cobblestone path as he moved onto the plains the kingdom was built on.

The guards watched him. Magic users were not common, and while they were not exactly welcomed, they are not completely turned away. Destiny once told a story of how magic users helped build the kingdom, how they worked alongside the royal blood to maintain such a prosperous kingdom. But those magic users left after the royals gave them nothing in return.

Aalto walked the path up, stiffly watching his own movements. Last time he had been here, Destiny had been told to wait at the gate, and Aalto refused to go in without her. Thankfully it didn’t burn his face into banishment, but it did make for a sour trip home. Aalto now regrets it, as he moved through another cobblestone wall through the path he followed. Shouldn’t market areas be easy to find?

“Excuse me? Excuse me?”

Aalto turned, to see an annoyed man, wearing a white coat and formal wear. Glasses framed his eyes, which stared right into his own.

“Who are you, why are you on royal grounds?” he asked. “Are you even supposed to be here? This isn’t a shortcut!" 

Aalto stared back, completely silent. No way he was gonna say something to bring more attention his way.

"Oliver, is there a problem?”

Shit. Aalto turned, seeing a small group, all of whom where looking at him. The one who called over was also wearing a white coat, they had long blonde hair with a blue stripe. Behind her was another girl, with red hair matching her outfit pinned up, a blonde stripe matching the other’s. Lastly, there was…

The fucking prince.

Fuck.

Aalto must have been hiding his panic fairly well, as Oliver and the blonde-blue hair white coated people bickered, the prince looked from them to him and fucking smiled before taking a fucking step towards him.

“Oh shit.”

The words were out of Aalto’s mouth before he could think, and by the look on the prince’s face, he was done. No meal, no stop by the bakery, if he was being released to go back home today then he was going home with some kind of fine and banishment from the kingdom. Perfect.

The prince’s look of disbelief faded and he began to walk towards Aalto again, who stood stiff. When the prince stood right in front of him, the prince’s smile was bright, and he put out his hand. And Aalto froze.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.”

FUCK.

The prince stood silent, watching Aalto’s face for any reaction other than intense discomfort. He then pulled his right sleeve up slightly. On his wrist the words ‘Oh shit.’ stood as a permanent mark against his skin.

“Granted, I never really… enjoyed having this sort of vulgarity printed on me. I will say my attempts to listen through crowds of visitors to hear it were straining to say the least. Though, I believe this meeting is preferable to the stories that I’ve heard from others.”

The group he was with was staring and whispering to one another.

“Although… I suppose other stories don’t compare to the one you create.”

Aalto took a deep breath. He did not want to be here right now. The prince took a step back and put down his hand.

“I’m- sorry, I suppose that isn't… the best… introduction. My name is Kadence, I'm… I’m Prince Kadence Nelumbo. This is the Kingdom of Nucifera, although you probably knew that.”

The two stood still, and Aalto then spoke softly, enough to Kadence to hear.

“You… you are my soulmate.” he said softly.

Kadence nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry if I'm… not what you had hoped for. I promise you, any further steps you want to take I will support.”

Not what he had hoped for? Aalto raised his right arm up, and watched Kadence as his eyes drifted down. Several emotions ran across his face, clear as day. This prince never had to hide anything, did he? Kadence looked up to meet Aalto’s eyes. The prince’s soulmate was a human magic user.

Aalto looked past Kadence to the group that had accompanied him. The red haired one pushed Oliver away as he harshly whispered to her, and the blonde gave a thumbs up. They were leaving. Oh, shit, he had to leave. Aalto took a step forward and looked back at Kadence.

“It’s- I live in the desert. It’s late, and I…” Aalto fumbled. He felt more comfortable when it was Kadence who was fumbling with words. But shit, it was worse when Kadence’s smile slowly fell into worry.

“Can’t you stay? Just tonight and we… we can further discuss things, we can discuss one another and make up for lost time-”

Kadence wasn’t really thinking when his anxieties crawled into his words. For years, maintaining his kingdom as its prince, a title he could never shake and must earn beyond, felt fruitless. He was pitiful. Kadence ruled his kingdom, but he was not a king. For years he believed that if he were to find his soulmate, certainly, he would mature. His staff would bloom and he would be the king. He and his true love would care for the kingdom and they would flourish. He couldn’t lose this man.

Kadence held Aalto’s metallic arm so gently. As if holding him closer would break them both, while holding him any less would whittle them both to nothing. Aalto leaned closer and rested his forehead against Kadence’s. He felt the prince freeze, although he had leaned into the touch. Aalto brought his left hand up to the prince’s side, where he brushed his thumb softly. Aalto took a slow breath in and out.

“Kadence,” a shift as the prince turned slightly to listen closely, “I promise you, I will be back. I’ll be at the gate when tomorrow dawns.”

Aalto began to pull away, and tipped Kadence’s chin up as his expression laid dejected. “You promise?” the prince asked.

“I promise.” Aalto’s eyes flickered down for a moment before leaning and kissing Kadence’s cheek.

“I… Okay, I’m gonna…” Aalto shrugged slightly as Kadenced smiled, watching. Aalto moved back, looking for the entrance he had moved through. “I’m gonna meet you then. Okay? Uh… bye!”

Kadence watched Aalto leave, almost hurried with a small sigh and a smile. He touched his cheek. His smile fell as he saw the group of staff at the window.

“How much did you see?” he asked.

“Enough to make you tell us everything about him.” Mochi called out, straightening her coat. Vel turned from her sister and shrugged before beginning to shoo everyone away, bribing them with the idea of a cake she may just make for the prince’s soulmate.

#double bloom #db #writing #soulmate au #drabble #aalto #kadence #destiny #iain #mochi #vel #oliver

[irepookie]

INFINITY

Summary: QUEEN AU where Rog (aka Rowan Queen) is young single dad struggling to make it into music industry.

Warnings: Fluff, Fluff, Fluff, and swearing.

Word Count: 1926

Okay so this is the closest picture I could find to Row's state in the next two chapters:

Chapter 2: PIPER

Row has a lot questions to ask himself, and he knows it's on only his own future at stake, but also The Prune's, who may be getting a name.

Of all the things Rowan Queen might have aspired to be, -a Rockstar, a Roger Taylor level drummer...- a 19 year old solo dad wasn't amongst them.

All he knew was that since he had first held that small Wrinkly being and her eyes had met his, she had stolen a part of him, and that the only way to feel completed again was being with her.

Ridiculously sappy, he knew.

"But that's what makes best parents" Callie, the nurse who had introduced them assured him one day when he confessed his thoughts out loud, while he watched her sponge bath the infant "Don't feel stupid, or embarrassed for feeling that way, Row. In fact, that's exactly how it should be. Always. And those fathers who deny it or fight that connection, end up estranged from their kids as they grow up. Take it from a daughter who hasn't seen her father in 5 years"

But, alas, there he was, living between his flat and the Hospital's newborn aisle, because he just couldn't get that one girl out his head, despite don't knowing how he had come to this.

"Well I haven't seen mine in 9"

"And that scares you, don't it?"

He gasped, and nodded slowly.

"Is better having no father figure at all than having a bad one. Just like I think your Prune is luckier having one brave dad than a coward mom"

"And two fit parents?" He asked, eyes flicking to the untouched pile of adoption papers

"Well that's the ideal situation, isn't it? But the weight always ends up relaying more on the mother, you know? The father always steps back, because society still thinks it's more acceptable for us women to raise the children because, of course, we have deeper connection with 'em for carrying them around for nine months and blah blah blah." She got the towel and handed it to him before laying the squirming 2 day old In his arms.

He carefully wrapped it around her and sat down so he wouldn't drop her, then started to stroke her soft delicate skin with the towel.

"But that's bullshit." Callie continued "That's an excuse you men came up with to sneak out from changing nappies. But I believe you guys are just as capable of taking care of children as us. And that you might be the ultimate proof of it." She gathered her hair in a ponytail, and smiled at father and daughter, as Row was now

leaning back on the rocking chair with the Prune, -as all the staff had begun to call her- laid on his bare chest.

"So forget whatever prejudices you have. This kid needs you, she doesn't know nothing about what's going on, she misses her little warm oven, the voice she was so used to hear and that she'll never hear again because that world has left her behind the first chance she got and she's very confused.

But also, She doesn't know about gender stereotypes, or that she's a girl. But she knows you're here. And her instincts tell her you're safety, and warmth, and love. Sure, I'm around a lot too, but soon you'll be discharged and everything she'll have will be you. A d then she'll grow up and will be forever grateful for everything you will have done for her"

The teen nodded, taking in all the words but remaining silent. Quiet moments like this -when she was calm and content- were quite meaningful.

"I just want the best for her. And I'm not sure I am"

"Well, from where I'm standing, you're pretty much up there. Nobody gets her to settle down as quickly as you do. That has to mean something, right? Newborns have this amazing instinct of detecting sources of love and protection. And you are hers. She trusts you: trust yourself"

Days went by, and Row found himself getting up early in order to go back to hospital. At home he was restless, as questions filled his head.

Was she better off with him?

Was he ready?

How could Callie be so much more sure about the whole thing than he was?

What if be wasn't good enough

What if mom was right?

Why did he want to become a dad in the first place?

Should he just sign those papers before it was too late and forget the whole thing?

The sixth day, he made his way to the hospital as usual, but something felt off. What it was? He couldn't put a finger on it, so he shrugged it off and entered the NICU area where she was.

"Hey, lovely one, look at you, a bit bigger each day" he cooed at his yet unnamed daughter, as he put his hand through the incubator hole to let her know his ore6 "So strong and so beautiful" he smiled brightly as her small hand closed around his finger.

"Yes, this way please" he heard a male voice and turned his eyes to see a doctor and a man and a woman who were probably in their thirties

"Oh my gosh she's so tiny!" The woman exclaimed, walking towards the glass

"Who are you?" Row asked, stepping defensively in front of her before she could reach the baby.

"You must be Rowan Queen?" The man held his hand out "We're the adopting couple..."

"What?" He basically slapped it away "No! Who told you she's in for adoption?"

"Mister, you signed the adoption papers" the Doctor said

"No I didn't!"

"Yes you did. Here" the doctor looked through the pile of papers on his hands and showed him.

He snatched the file from him. That was his signature but he didn't remember signing anything. He may have doubts about being a dad, but Callie was right, the little prune and him needed each other. They belonged together And he wasn't gonna give her away. The only way was through.

"There must be a mistake. She's not up for adoption"

"Err... Yes she is" the man said

"No she's not! I should know better than you, huh?"

"We've heard about the mother. So sad. But babies need their mommys, don't they?" The woman cooed from the other side of the incubator

"You can't take her" if looks could kill, Row would have murdered her right then and there.

"Mister..."

"No! He's my daughter!"

"Sir, signing this you gave up your parental rights"

"And what the hell does that even mean?"

"Legally, she's not yours anymore"

"But I don't remember signing anything!"

"But this is your signature"

"Yes. But I... I didn't mean it"

The woman scoffed "Well you clearly did."

"Mind your fucking business!" He snapped, before turning to the doctor "Look, I really don't know how my signature is there but I need you to... I don't know, forget it, okay?"

"Forget it?"

"Yes! Whatever that stupid paper says, I'm keeping her. And I will do everything you want me to"

"Sorry. There's nothing we can do about it now. You could take this to court but... It's a lost cause"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"A 19 year old against a healthy, stable marriage?" He used the same arguments mom had

"But I'm her dad..." His voice quivered, as his baby started to cry.

"Don't worry sweetheart. Mommy and Daddy are here now" the woman said "Our Judy"

"Judy? What the fuck, you're not naming her Judy!"

"What we do with our daughter is our business, sir" the woman said "Now please, leave us alone"

"No! She's not Judy. She's my prune, I'm gonna prove to all of you fuckers wrong, because I can fucking do this if I want you. Not because I wanted to at first, or because I can't have my own kid like you; she's my own kid and she belongs with me. And I may not be a middle upper class, or drive a goddamn Mercedes, or have a huge house and a stable boring job at whatever office. And she may not have a goddamn mother, or her own room. So what? She has me. Because I'm the one who's been here for the whole bloody week worrying about her. Not you, not her mother. So fuck off and choose another kid!"

Two men who Row hadn't even seen arrive took him, as he fought and called his crying daughter "PIPER! PIPER! DADDY WILL GET YOU! I'M YOUR DAD, DON'T FORGET!"

Then he woke up with a jolt in that same hospital room, as his newborn baby awoke too beside him

He quickly sat up and leaned over to place a hand on her tummy, to check that she was real, letting out a sigh of relief when feeling her warm skin

It had been just a dream. Well, a nightmare rather than a dream. But she was there, safe next to him

"Hey, baby girl. Yes, hello darling. You had a good night? Gave trouble to the nurses?" he asked, stroking her torso "Are we hungry?" He offered his little finger,and she began to suck on it as response, which made him chuckle. "Alright, I'll call so they get us a bottle okay?"

3 minutes later, he was sitting on the green rocking chair, Baby Prune on his bare chest -because apparently skin to skin helped parents and kiddos bond or whatever- as he gave her the bottle.

He had to admit, ever since he had learned how to properly hold her, he looked forward to feeding, because he had grown to love these little moments, and by the end of them, be always felt closer and more in love with that tiny, wrinkled human being which he had helped make.

Who was a part of him somehow, and who he couldn't imagine his life without despite having only known her for 6 days.

She was so amazing. So mesmerizing. With her clear grey eyes and her peachy skin, and her adorable ears.

He just couldn't get his eyes off her.

"You're gonna come home with me in a couple days, and..." He realized he hadn't really thought about a plan. He had just moved out mom's, and the apartment was still empty. He'd have to start getting stuff. But anyway "... And we'll figure something out. I'm not gonna renounce to you. No ma'am. You've got me. And I've got you. And I'll look after you and make sure you're always happy and safe and... loved. I fucking love you so damn much and I don't even know how did this happen. I mean you're not even a week old and you've already turned my life upside down just by bloody existing. You can't even understand what I'm saying. But here I am, making all this plans and Shit... I, who never thinks ahead, who never knows his future beyond what meal he's gonna get. But I... Damn. Do you babies have like special powers or something? Do you like... Is it a defensive instinct? Like you manage to make us go nuts about you by casting a spell it whatever so we'll stay enchanted? Because this is fucking ridiculous."

She finished the bottle and he put it aside.

"Speaking about plans, we can't keep calling you Baby Prune. We're gonna have to choose a name. A pretty unique gorgeous name for a special, perfect little princess like you. So, let's see" he changed his hold on her so they were face to face. Something the nurses had called.. ? He wasn't really sure but he had got hand on it "Yes, hello" he smiled helplessly at the sight of her "Baby girl. Baby girl" he cooed absentmindedly as he analysed her features

Then he remembered his dream. He had called her Piper. He wasn't even sure if he had heard that name before but he liked it. It was original, cool, rare enough people would associate it with her but not awful, like other names he had heard.

"Piper" he whispered, tasting the word while contemplating her face. It sounded good to him. "Piper Queen" he said, a bit louder this time as her tiny hand closed around a strand of his blonde hair. "You like that? Piper?"

She just blinked, but he interpreted it as an affirmative answer

"It's settled, then. Piper. Pips for short." He smiled, and brought her back to his bare chest so he could lull her back to sleep with his rambling, which had worked the previous times.

"My Piper" he kissed her head and began to rub her back "I'm so scared honestly. I won't lie to ya, I have no idea what I'm doing but you can rely on me. I'm good at improvising so I'll figure it out. Don't worry. But you gotta take it easy, hm? If you have a bit of patience, it'll be just fine. And about this?" He reached for the papers -which were unsigned- and ripped them off "Fuck it. Just fuck it."

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

A big Hola to my dear fellow @definitely-darcy whose kind review and attention to detail has made gain confidence in this.

So, I've written this one in different bits which I've had to tie up together. Hope you guys like it.

That's about it, really. Please comment and let me know what you think (always nice and constructively).

Xx

~Pookie

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